Πέμπτη, 13 Δεκεμβρίου 2012

marilena: A Cold Heart for Europe Merkel's Dispassionate App...

marilena: A Cold Heart for Europe Merkel's Dispassionate App...: By Konstantin von Hammerstein and René Pfister Chancellor Merkel has more power in Europe than any of her postwar predecessors. Ye...

A Cold Heart for Europe Merkel's Dispassionate Approach to the Euro Crisis


By Konstantin von Hammerstein and René Pfister
Merkel is the most powerful politician in the euro zone, but she prefers to...


More than anything, though, Merkel would like to see a bit more discipline in. ..

Merkel is undoubtedly the most-hated woman in Europe at the moment.  Protest ...

Chancellor Merkel has more power in Europe than any of her postwar predecessors. Yet there is little passion in her relationship with the EU, preferring instead a strategy of what can only be described as pedagogical imperialism. She sees the bloc primarily in terms of euros and cents -- and worries that it is rapidly losing relevance.

The crisis has its comical sides, of course. Take, for example, the story with the submarine. Angela Merkel starts to giggle. It was lopsided. Suddenly she snorts with laughter, as tears run down her cheeks. She can't even talk anymore. Lopsided, she says, trying to pull herself together. But she can't. The chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany has succumbed to an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

The story Merkel is having so much trouble relating goes like this: The Greeks ordered a state-of-the-art, class 214 submarine from the Howaldtswerken-Deutsche Werft shipyard in the northern port city of Kiel. But when the vessel was ready, they refused to pay. The Greek military experts who had traveled to Kiel explained that the Papanikolislisted even in slight swells, and they declined to take delivery of the vessel.
The Germans tested, measured and checked the sub, but found nothing amiss. The boat's lopsidedness is apparently something only Greeks, up to their eyeballs in debt, can detect -- an anecdote that still sends the chancellor into fits of laughter years later.
Oh, those Greeks. Sometimes, when things get really bad, Merkel resorts to gallows humor. But it doesn't really help. The show must go on, and in the end, it all comes back to her, anyway.
For three years now, the euro crisis has been smoldering. It has brought down governments in Ireland and Spain, in Italy and Slovenia, and has led to countless summit meetings in Brussels, at which first a temporary and then a permanent bailout fund was established.
European leaders will meet in the Belgian capital once again this Thursday and Friday, at what is expected to be the year's most important summit. The agenda consists of nothing less than the political realignment of the euro zone and the question of whether members can agree to a European banking union to save the Continent's ailing banks. In the midst of it all, as always, is German Chancellor Angela Merkel.
The Fate of Europe in her Hands
All eyes in Europe are directed at Merkel. No other politician on the Continent arouses as many hopes -- or as much hatred -- as Merkel. When she visits Greece, protesters wearing Nazi uniforms march through the streets of Athens, and yet a word from Merkel can also mean saving a euro country from bankruptcy.
She currently holds the fate of Europe in her hands. If the euro is rescued, Merkel will get most of the credit, and if it falls apart, she will be forced to shoulder the blame. No other German chancellor has had as much power on the European continent as Merkel. And yet, ironically enough, none of Merkel's predecessors were as dispassionate about the European Union as the woman currently governing from the Chancellery. Merkel is different.
Germany's first postwar chancellor, Konrad Adenauer, together with then French President Charles de Gaulle, established the foundation for the Franco-German friendship. Later, Chancellor Helmut Kohl would tear up whenever he mentioned the "House of Europe," and even his successor Gerhard Schröder, initially concerned that German money was being "frittered away" in Brussels, eventually became an ardent supporter of Europe.
National interests, of course, have always been part of European politics. After the war, Adenauer wanted to firmly anchor Germany in the West. For France, on the other hand, Europe was a means to keep its neighbor across the Rhine in check. But passion was always the fertilizer on which Europe thrived. And passion is exactly what Merkel lacks.
Her Shangri-La was not Paris or Rome, but America. The United States was the antithesis to the musty stuffiness of East Germany, and for her, Europe did not promise any deliverance. This attitude distinguished her from those members of the conservative Christian Democratic Union who came of age in the western part of Germany. They grew up with the belief that the rehabilitation of the Germans, and the recovery of Germany's national dignity and identity after the crimes of the Nazi era, could only be achieved through Europe.
For Merkel, Europe is no dream, vision or object of desire. She has since learned that it is part of the Christian Democratic etiquette to sugarcoat Europe with pathos, which is one of the reasons she traveled to Oslo on Monday for the presentation of the Nobel Peace Prize to the EU. It was, however, little more than a show for the public. In the end Europe, for Merkel, is a question of prosperity, of euros and cents -- and not a matter of the heart.
A Brief Lecture
Which begs the question: Can this woman lead Europe out of crisis? Or is a dispassionate politician like Merkel precisely what Europe needs -- someone who lacks the unrealistic emotionalism that led the euro astray in the first place?
Close observation of Merkel this year, as she travels through Europe and around the world this year, reveals a relentlessly objective woman, one who is primarily interested in key indicators like growth rates, demographic trends and debt levels. When Merkel is asked about the causes of the euro crisis, she likes to reply with a brief lecture on economics.
"Where are my beloved tables?" she asks, seated in a plane in the summer. Then she pulls out a stack of papers. On one side, they show the skyrocketing labor costs in Southern Europe. On the other side are the low interest rates that enabled countries like Greece, following the introduction of the common currency, to embark on such an unrestrained path to debt in the first place.
It isn't sentimentality that drove Merkel to make €400 billion ($520 billion) of German money available to help prop up the euro zone. This quickly becomes clear when she speaks. She treats the debt-ridden countries of Southern Europe like unruly children that have to be brought to their senses so that Germany isn't dragged into the abyss of the euro crisis along with them.
When she flew to Greece in October, she prepared by reading an interview with the Greek prime minister in the leading German business daily Handelsblatt. In it, Antonis Samaras said that he now makes himself available to his ministers on weekends, and that he also has time for face-to-face meetings. The message he was trying to convey is that the era of inefficiency is finally over. But one could also interpret the premier's words differently, namely as evidence of the long road ahead for Greece. How can a prime minister, after all, believe that having to work on the weekend is even worth mentioning?
For months, Merkel wavered over whether or not Greece should remain in the euro zone. As recently as summer, she couldn't decide whether to believe in the domino or the ballast theory, as she called the two alternatives. According to the first theory, a Greek bankruptcy could drag other threatened euro countries into the abyss. Proponents of the second theory, on the other hand, believe that Greece is the ballast that the euro zone has to jettison to recover.
Most-Hated Woman
It's difficult to say why Merkel eventually chose the domino theory. Perhaps it was partly the doing of Chinese fund managers who, during her visit to Beijing in the summer, bluntly described to her what they saw as the devastating consequences of ejecting Greece from the euro zone. If that happened, they said, China would no longer have any confidence in the euro and, as a result, would stop buying bonds issued by euro-zone member states.
Perhaps it was also the warnings coming from her counterparts in Europe. The Slovenian prime minister, for instance, told her that a Greek bankruptcy would result in a 5 percent shrinkage of his country's economy. That too made an impression on Merkel.
What don't tend to make an impression on Merkel are the protests against her. She is undoubtedly Europe's most-hated woman at the moment. When she traveled to Athens in October, her motorcade quickly swept through the empty streets of the Greek capital; it felt like the setting for one of those films that depicts a world devoid of human beings.
Visiting Lisbon in mid-November, she met with her Portuguese counterpart in a centuries-old fortress on the Atlantic coast, where police officers dressed in black and carrying submachine guns were posted along the battlements. A helicopter circled overhead, while frogmen in an assault boat kept watch over the sea approach.
The chancellor's motorcade had hardly left the airport before demonstrators greeted Merkel with Hitler salutes and extended middle fingers. In the summer,Time ran a cover story titled "Why everybody loves to hate Angela Merkel."
The chancellor was horrified at first over the amount of aversion she encountered, say her advisors. But now she sees things in a more pragmatic light. Her confidants say that the protests do sometimes lead Merkel to wonder if she is on the right track. She usually answers the question in the affirmative.

spiegel




marilena: The science of compassion

marilena: The science of compassion: Can we be taught to care more about our fellow humans? Christina Patterson joins the scientists and thinkers who believe a true understandi...

The science of compassion

Can we be taught to care more about our fellow humans? Christina Patterson joins the scientists and thinkers who believe a true understanding of empathy could transform the world we live in




Everyone smiled. The woman who greeted me on the door smiled and the woman who told me where to register smiled and so did the woman who gave me a badge. Perhaps these women always smile, or perhaps they thought they had to. Perhaps they thought that if you were running a conference on "empathy and compassion in society", aimed at "professionals in education, health and social care", the least you could do was smile.
You might think "professionals in education, health and social care" don't need to be taught about compassion. You might think compassion was what got them into their jobs. You might, in that case, have been living in a world where you've never been in a hospital, or a care home, or a school. Compassion is what gets some people into nursing, teaching or social care. But compassion isn't easy to keep up. Compassion, as those of us who have had experiences of the lack of it, in hospitals, doctors' surgeries or relatives' care homes, know, can fade.
"You don't," said the man on the stage, in the packed hall of Friends' House in Euston, "need to be religious to develop compassion for others. We need a secular approach to human values. I believe we can begin by acknowledging that everyone we meet is a human being just like us." The man, who was called David Rand, and who was from something called the Tenzin Gyatso institute, was reading a message of support from the Dalai Lama. Quite a few who were taking part in the conference quoted the Dalai Lama. Quite a few people were practising Buddhists, though most, apparently, weren't. I'd already wiped a tear away at footage of the youth conference at the Royal Festival Hall the day before. "It's vitally important we have our eyes opened," said a young Londoner on the giant screen with the kind of smile that makes you want to sm ile too. "I just sent a text to my mum, saying how much I loved her," said a girl whose big, blue eyes were shining. "I went to the youth conference yesterday," said the filmmaker Roger Graef when the footage ended, "and was very moved by the whole thing." He had, he explained, made a film about the neglect of old people called Who Cares? He'd made another one called The Truth About Adoption and another one called Kids in Care. On the night the film about adoption was screened, he said, all the websites for adoption agencies crashed.
"We need compassion," said a professor of clinical psychology called Paul Gilbert, perhaps stating the obvious, "because life is hard." Our brains, he explained, have "all kinds of motives that come from our evolutionary past". Using slides of people, and animals, and a mouse wearing, for some reason, a crash helmet, he set out some of the principles of evolutionary psychology that had shaped his thought. We have, he explained, built-in biases. We're tribal, but it's not our fault. The genes in his frontal cortex, he said, would be "very different" if he'd been kidnapped by a violent gang.
When he finished, another Paul spoke. This Paul, who's also a clinical psychologist, has done pioneering work in the study of emotions for 40 years. He spoke in a video from California and later via Skype. "We probably see more suffering in a week than our ancestors saw in a lifetime," said Paul Ekman. "What does it do to our brains?"
A pretty young woman called Olga Klimecki tried to give us some answers. She had just finished a PhD on "training the compassionate and empathic brain". When she started, she said, there were no "longitudinal studies". The brain activation, she explained, as she showed us slides of brain scans, with bits in red and blue, was "very different" in a "compassionate state" than in a "non-compassionate state", or a state of pain.
"A teacher at a high-school graduation," said the next speaker, Patrick Gaffney, "shocked his students when he told them: 'You are not special. Even if you were one in a million, there would be 7000 just like you.' We seem," he said, "to have created a world in which we're more and more concerned with ourselves". To cultivate compassion, he said, we "need to have some ability to focus activity." But our minds, apparently, can wander away from what we're supposed to be doing 47 per cent of the time.
Mine, if I'm honest, already had. I was interested, but as well as not having time for special acts of kindness, I hadn't had time for lunch. But in the break, help loomed. As a woman played a harp, smiling staff poured mugs of tea and served giant slabs of cake. These people, I thought, know how to be kind to me.
After the break, Yotam Heineberg talked about his work with gangs. With Rony Berger, a clinical psychologist at Tel Aviv University, he has developed a programme for young people who are at risk of violence, or who are suffering post-traumatic stress. Their "Erase Stress programme" has reached more than 50,000 children whose lives have been hit by natural disasters, terrorism, or war. Children, he said, "get trapped in the cycle of violence". Their brains get "programmed to think in terms of hateful threats". Their work, he said, can break the cycle.
C hristine Longacre, a former director of a hospice, has done pioneering work of her own. "After my first husband died," she explained, "I was complaining to an acquaintance who's a doctor about some of the additional suffering we went through. The doctor said 'you don't know what our training's like. The ones who survive the dehumanising effect of it are the ones who cut off'." She has developed a five-month training course in "contemplative end-of-life care". Greater "physician empathy", she explained, "has been associated with better patient outcomes and fewer medical errors".
"If you want to change the future," said the next speaker, Mary Gordon, "you have to go to school". And 17 years ago, she did. When she met women whose lives had been "blighted by violence", she decided to try to tackle the problem at its root. The result is a programme called "Roots of Empathy" which now runs in seven countries around the world. They start by bringing a mother and baby into a classroom, and training the children to observe the baby's feelings. At the end of the year, the children make wishes for the baby. "They say," she said, and it made me want to cry, "that they hope Baby Billy gets a daddy, or has a friend, or isn't bullied, or that his dad gets out of jail". "We've got a long way to go," said the economist Richard Layard in the final session, "before people feel that other people are on their side". But he is doing his best. He has written reports on happiness for governments and the UN, and campaigned for "resilience" programmes, and parenting classes, in the House of Lords. "The key determinant of your happiness," he said, "is your mental health. If you're not at peace with yourself, you can't give much to other people."
"The point of the conference", said Vinciane Rycroft afterwards, was to look at "the different approaches to compassion and the science, ethics, politics and reality on the ground." She runs a charity called Mind with Heart, which aims to give young people the social and emotional skills they need to build "a more sustainable society". She didn't present her own work, she said, even though she organised the conference, and the day of workshops that followed, because "you have to walk the talk" and give others a chance.
Yes, if you're doing this stuff, you do. You could just preach about compassion, but the proof is in the studies, scans and "narrative interviews" with people whose lives have been changed.
The proof, in fact, is in the pudding – and, of course, the cake.
compassioninsociety.or
independent