At least nobody has asked me – living in the Netherlands – to pay in Swiss francs yet. Today, at the hairdresser’s, after the habitual chat about the weather, the inevitable subject came up: the euro crisis. Today’s panicky atmosphere in the eurozone, on the eve of the currency’s tenth anniversary, is the culmination of a decade of complaints. She summed them up neatly.

‘So how about that crisis? For me, they needn’t have bothered introducing the euro.’

Me: ‘But surely, it will cost us a lot if we go back to the guilder.’

‘I think so. Well, we are used to the euro by now.’

Me: ‘Do you still calculate in guilders sometimes?’

‘Not anymore, during the first years I did. Well, sometimes, with a high amount. Like recently, my little dog´s vaccination, that cost me 60 euros, and then I think: that´s more than 130 guilders. And it used to be 50 guilders. And all shopping gets more expensive too, especially food.

But although people complain about the crisis, we still live well. If you see what people can buy nowadays, my grandchildren for instance, then our lives have definitely improved. And maybe this is also due to the euro. And I must admit: it’s easy when you go abroad.

But you can say whatever you think, they do what they want anyway.’

Me: ‘So do you want me to pay in guilders?’

‘No, let’s stick to the euro. I don’t believe in a way back.’

Europe’s sovereign debt crisis receives plenty of media coverage, but much of it is abstract and focuses on politicians, markets, banks and economic analyses. This way, we easily forget that over 330 million people use the euro every day. How do they feel about the currency? When I teach about the European Union, I often ask students which tangible achievements they see in their lives that the Union has given them. My students are from all over Europe. They always mention two things: the freedom to cross the internal borders without checks (with some exceptions), and the euro. Undoubtedly, the common market has brought us Europeans much more, but it is just so hard to see it. Free trade has brought us wealth, but there is no comparison, no ‘parallel Europe’ in which countries have decided to keep 27 isolated markets, and time accordingly has gone slower. We see more foreign products around us, and they are probably cheaper because of competition, but we are used to them – so actually we don’t see them. Europe has given us rights, as workers or as students, but we do not remember the time we – or our parents – did not have these rights yet. So it is understandable that proponents of European integration wanted a symbol.

‘The greatest economic experiment in history’

In a Dutch economics magazine dated 22 December 2001, nine days before the introduction of euro notes and coins, I read it was going to be a revolution, ‘the largest economic experiment of all time.’ The magazine itself has ceased to be, which only adds to the nostalgic value of the article. I do not think the euro was a larger experiment than communism, but nevertheless it was an extraordinary experiment and a revolution: it is, after all, the world’s second largest currency. However, it was a revolution from the top down.

The euro did have economic benefits, but they were not that great, especially compared to the common market’s. And governments never quite explained these gains to their citizens before the euro was introduced – at least in the Netherlands they did not. The Dutch worried that inflation would rise in a monetary union, because other countries’ governments had less fiscal discipline. Our carefully saved pension funds could lose value. And on the other hand, economists pointed out that less productive nations would lose the opportunity to devalue their currency to promote export.

For those reasons, countries agreed on convergence criteria and on the Stability and Growth Pact, which both oblige the euro members to keep their deficits and debts in check. But a year after the euro’s introduction, Germany and France flouted the rules and the other countries did not push for a penalty. Two years later, they all made the pact more flexible. Of course, by now we know that this was not a good idea.

Experiment succeeded?

Nowadays, almost ten years after we started to use euro coins and notes, only a minority of those 330 million users believe the currency is good for their economies. They have been sceptical from the beginning. ‘Since the euro, prices are much higher,’ is a remark I have often heard from people around me. Research seems to largely contradict these inflation complaints. Other research concludes that the euro has stimulated growth. But so far, with the costs of the crisis in mind, we cannot call the euro an economic success. And as a political project and a symbol for European integration, the balance until now is negative. The euro crisis proves that European integration is not yet up to the test. Europe’s citizens did not have a voice, and now the crisis is driving them apart.

The monetary union was an agreement between governments, which each reeled in the best possible deal for their country. However, such a package deal does not automatically get you the best monetary system. If these governments had been under a stronger obligation to explain to their citizens why they should have a single currency to begin with, they would have had an incentive to think it through again.

This is the danger of great social experiments and top-down revolutions. They tend to be over-ambitious. The ‘visionaries’ and wheeler-dealers that launch them, often avoid the discussion and deliberation that is so much needed, and the great scheme backfires.

But just when it seems that Europe’s politicians are beginning to understand this, the euro crisis calls for a stronger Europe – again. Let’s hope that once more its citizens will have the understanding to tolerate this.

Longer version of the article that was published in the Globe and Mail on 11 October.

Last  article in a series of four

A different kind of Brussels-bashing has dominated international media, lately: scolding the European Union for not doing enough. Refreshing, but these critics seem to forget how diverse Europe is. A simple holiday excursion to the volcanoes proved an eye-opening escape from the Brussels-minded Bubble.

If you want to learn about Europeans,

don’t travel around Europe

Travelling around Europe is fascinating, but if you have read the first three parts of this story, you know: there is a faster way to get acquainted with its inhabitants. For both journalists and ‘Eurocrats’ it is a way to get out of their familiar bubble of people. Watch how people, less adept in languages, interact in unfamiliar surroundings. Compare the different nationalities. Test if the clichés hold true: will the French be content with only half an hour for lunch? Will the Brits form an orderly queue? Will the Germans be back on time? Try to discover differences – or similarities – that you were not aware of. And, most important, ask your new fellow travellers if they are sceptical about the European project, and why. What is their greatest problem with the Union, and what do they most desire from it? I would expect both the judgements of opinion formers and the plans of policy makers, to gain in realism. (I can already see a new programme from Brussels, with subsidized bus excursions for journalists. Further ahead, it will be expanded to all European citizens that only speak one language, so that different nationalities can learn to know each other and work out their differences.)

But seriously, we can probably draw some quick lessons from this small-scale model of European cooperation, perhaps the most important being that, whatever measures will be taken in times co come, ‘Europe’ will always be a shaky project. Usually worth the trouble and often fascinating, but never without loose ends.

And about the politicians that were recently so lambasted: they may at times have a slightly better idea than their critics of what moves the majority. That is why the German, Dutch and Finnish prime ministers have been so strict on Greece lately, while the French president was more willing to lend money. They reflected the opinion of their citizens. So maybe it is not exactly their fault that Europe is so divided.

A blast from the past

We ride on to Lanzarote’s most special site, national park Timanfaya. This is where the desolate Fire Mountains are, a large area of craggy lava plains, rounded hills, and sand desert. There are hardly any plants or animals, nothing but emptiness in black, grey and earth colours. In front of the visitors’ centre, many buses are parked. The guide tells us we have to wait a while, before we can drive the trail through the park. So we get out and watch a man demonstrating in various ways how hot the ground is just below the surface. The most spectacular are the fairly high geysers he produces, by pouring a bucket of water into a hole. After that, we look around the site. A stone structure, shaped like a water well with a grill on top, is actually a lava barbecue, and every nationality around it is pointing his camera at the lava down below. I believe nobody actually manages to take a good photo of the dark, red blob.

When it is time to take the bus tour through the park, again some people are missing. This time, we have to wait for a group of Italians, causing some renewed stress with the English guide. When at last they come, I see they have bought a CD with the Italian narration for the Ruta de los Volcanes, the route we are going to take.

While we cross the strange Martian land, the driver plays the English audio guide, complete with eerie sound effects and Also sprach Zarathustra. An 18th century priest is quoted, giving a chilling account of the eruptions that created las Montañas del Fuego :

‘The earth suddenly opened near Timanfaya, two miles from Yaiza. An enormous mountain emerged from the ground with flames coming from its summit. It continued burning for 19 days…’

The bus rides on a narrow, curvy road along precipices. The audio guide is timed to the route, so we have no chance to play the Italian version as well – and I believe a Polish version does not exist yet.

We do not experience any new eruptions, however. When we get out of the bus, back in Playa Blanca, I even think most passengers tip the driver. Faces are bright and the sun is shining. I shoot some pictures in the harbour. When I leave my camera case on a bench, two fellow passengers, an Italian girl and her mother, follow me and hand it back to me. We have a nice chat about photography, surfing and Fuerteventura. I am thinking: maybe the other Italians were not informed properly ahead of the trip – a possibility, given the way my ticket was handled. The Poles are nowhere in sight, led away by their guide. I realize the couple one seat ahead of me must have felt awkward and therefore reacted clumsily, because they could not understand nor answer me. Then I talk to the English couple. We take each other’s photos in front of the little lighthouse. On the ferry back, we try to capture the sunset and compare our efforts. Maybe unity is too much to ask, but there may be hope for European cooperation after all.

(the entire story, with photos, is also published on http://marcveldt.wordpress.com/)

A series of four articles

A different kind of Brussels-bashing has dominated international media, lately: scolding the European Union for not doing enough. Refreshing, but these critics seem to forget how diverse Europe is. A simple holiday excursion to the volcanoes proved an eye-opening escape from the Brussels-minded Bubble.

Melting pot or dormant vulcano?

It is easy to make fun of coach excursions. The tour guide speaking over the intercom, sometimes in more languages, about the standard trivia (‘At the next crossing we’ll pass the Farmer’s Monument, created in 1968 by local artist Cesar Manrique. Despite the dry climate, Lanzarote’s farmers produce many onions, potatoes…’) Often you pass things by too quickly to really see, or they are at the wrong side of the bus. Then you arrive at a point where everybody gets out, and they all start looking at the surroundings through the displays of their compact cameras. Time is restricted, so soon they hop back on. There is always a stop where they entice you to buy local products, and you can taste a few samples. And then there is a warmly advertised meal, usually a buffet.

I mention the buffet, because it is such a great opportunity to observe people’s behaviour. You see people that pile all three courses on one plate, so the desert is lying on top of the steak. You will notice interesting differences in queuing habits and food tastes: who will eat the olives, for instance, or squid?

In the restaurant, a rather large building in the tiny village of Mancha Blanca, the Poles quickly take their positions at the front of the queue, even before the buffet is opened. When the food becomes available, they quietly and efficiently load their plates, not opening their lines to any stranger. This is clearly a self-contained group with no intention to mix or even communicate with outsiders. The Italians get their food later, at their own pace, in small groups at a time. Loud conversations are held between the table and the buffet, about what kinds of food could be under the various batter coatings.

Managing such different groups proves difficult 

At every stop, the English guide tells us how much time we have, and that it is important to be back in the bus on time, because otherwise we cannot do the entire programme. I’d say we have enough time at every location. But already at the second stop, the Poles stay away at the indicated time. Everybody else is waiting in the bus. The two guides become anxious.

‘She has not told them we had 45 minutes,’ the English lady says to me, talking to her Polish colleague. ‘If they don’t come fast, we’ll have to skip an attraction.’

The Poles eventually do come and we move on. But back on the road the Italians talk at an ever louder volume, so it becomes increasingly difficult to understand the English guide’s story. Initially it just seems undisciplined, but then it appears a protest is building up. A woman in the back stands up and interrupts the guide, loudly declaring that the Italians are really bothered by the fact that the narration is only in English and in Polish – it becomes obvious most of them do not speak English. They want the English lady also to explain things in Spanish.

‘No puedo – I can’t,’ answers the tour guide from the opposite side of the bus. She adds in Spanish that the passengers have been told ahead this tour would be in English.

A heated debate erupts in Italian versus Spanish. I hear some cries for money back. The guide, looking distressed, takes control. ‘Please sit down and calm your tone of voice. If you have any complaints we can talk about it at the next stop.’

The next hop-off is a winery, where we can taste three samples, and buy bottles if we want. While everyone is standing in line and tasting wine, the English guide asks me jokingly: ‘Now, you are not going to complain, too, are you?’

I smile. ‘I guess I could shout anything I wanted. If I’d do it in my own language, nobody would understand me anyway.’

She thinks about it for a moment, but does not encourage me.

I do not see any Italians coming to her to discuss their grievances. Still, I think she has a difficult job, keeping all these different groups satisfied.

Did I enjoy myself? Absolutely. There is farcical comedy in a disorderly journey, on which the passengers do not understand the experts, sometimes even rebel against them, while the guides seem to contradict each other, and have quite a job getting everyone back on the bus at every stop. Moreover, it was such nice metaphor for the European enterprise.

Next week: part 4

A series of four articles

A different kind of Brussels-bashing has dominated international media, lately: scolding the European Union for not doing enough. Refreshing, but these critics seem to forget how diverse Europe is. A simple holiday excursion to the volcanoes proved an eye-opening escape from the Brussels-minded Bubble.

Part 2: the coach tour

By chance, I discovered a great way to touch base with ‘ordinary’ Europeans. Journalists and policy makers, if you want to sense the pulse of the continent, go on a sightseeing tour by bus or boat. Of course, the passengers must have diverse nationalities. Compare their different behaviours and watch how the groups get along. It may be the least adventurous way of travelling, but you will see things you will miss otherwise. After having travelled quite a bit around Europe with every kind of transportation, I say: if you want to know Europeans: don’t travel TO them, travel WITH them.

Probably you too know many Europeans that easily mingle with foreigners. Don’t be fooled by that: it may blur your vision. Working out differences, that looks a lot easier when I watch ‘my’ students. They are from all over Europe: Germany, Spain, Denmark, France, Sweden, Lithuania, England, Norway, Portugal, Belgium, and the Netherlands (where I live). Usually a few from the US, Australia and Canada join them. Having different backgrounds is for them a bonus, something challenging and exotic, instead of a burden. Being highly educated and very mobile, they quickly feel themselves at home in their new city.

A ‘year abroad’ is common for students nowadays – thanks to European sponsorship, well over two million students have participated in exchange programmes since the late 1980s. This increases their intercultural and language skills, and one can imagine it makes many of them feel more ‘European’ and in favour of European integration. But in each of their countries, there is a much larger group, from which you probably do not hear a lot. How do we learn more about them? How do we prevent politicians and commentators from calling for measures that will not receive their support?

Setting the scene

About once in every two years I go surfing on the desert island of Fuerteventura – ‘desert’ meaning it is very dry and has lots of sand. Being one of Spain’s Canary Islands, it is an outpost of the European Union, lying some 1200 kilometres south of Portugal and Spain and just a hundred kilometres from the African coast. On a surfing-free day I went on a coach tour on Lanzarote, an island which is visible from Fuerteventura’s north shore, its black rock in striking contrast with Fuerte’s yellow sand. Lanzarote has been shaped by recent volcanic eruptions; with ‘recent’ I mean on the geological scale: the 1730’s. In six years, a large part of the island was transformed into a moonscape by over 130 emerging volcanoes that buried eleven villages. Besides this alien scenery, the island has excellent coastal views, interesting caves and some picturesque towns. In a day you can see the most interesting spots, and be in time for the last ferry back. However, you have no time to linger. The bus trip I booked is a good deal, since it spares you the cost of hiring a car on the island. And with a car, you would probably go to the same highlights as the bus does anyway. Obviously, a guided coach trip has several downsides, but nothing you cannot put up with for a day. Moreover, I think precisely these downsides, combined with the mix of passengers, make the trip an interesting social experiment.

But first I had to get on the bus, and this proved to be not so easy. After buying a ticket from the Belgian surfer receptionist, the next morning I had to convince first an Italian hippy girl in Fuerteventura and second the English tour guide in Lanzarote, that there was a seat for me. The guide was standing next to the bus, which was right in front where the ferry landed. She was an English woman with light brown hair, middle-aged, dressed in black, except for her white scarf.

‘Can I see your ticket?’ Of course.

‘Can’t let you on, dear. We’re completely full.’

‘But the girl in Corralejo called the company and they said there was place.’

Other holidaymakers were crowding her, and she nodded: get in.

Company of strangers

Sitting inside for a while, it turns out I have two seats for myself. But then I see the couple in front of me have very different-looking tickets. Since it all went a bit fast and chaotically at the entrance, I show them my ticket and ask: excuse me, is this the tour I have to be on? They look briefly at my ticket that says ‘Grand Tour’ and then surprisingly turn their heads away from me, without answering. This rudeness slightly irritates me.

I am sitting in the middle of the vehicle and notice that people in the front half look different from those behind me. In front of me, silent, slim men with short hair, many with moustaches, non-descript clothes, dull colours. The women wear sandals and light colours. The hair of some of them draws my attention. It is probably dyed and blow-dried, or permed (I’m not an expert), because it seems dry and the colour is fading. I also see we have two tour guides now. A blond girl with large sunglasses on her forehead has joined the British lady. When she speaks to the people in front, I hear they are Polish, like I suspected.

In the back, people dressed in darker colours, a little bit more modern. Most of them are Italian. Like the Poles, they are of middle age, except for a few younger passengers with hip sunglasses, caps and sneakers. Later, I will also discover a British couple.

The British guide introduces herself through the intercom, and checks in Spanish with the Italians if they have been told that this is a trip with English narration. Her Spanish is not good enough to tell her stories about Lanzarote, she explains. Every time the British lady has spoken, the Polish girl translates what she said. Apparently she adds a few things, because she speaks considerably longer.

So by now, you get the picture. I am on a not very well planned trip, with a couple of very different groups, which cannot communicate. The itinerary is clear to the guides, but not necessarily to the passengers. So let’s wait and see: will the guides be in control, and how docile will their customers be?

Next Wednesday: part 3

A different kind of Brussels-bashing has dominated international media, lately: scolding the European Union for not doing enough. Refreshing, but these critics seem to forget how diverse Europe is. A simple holiday excursion to the volcanoes proved an eye-opening escape from the Brussels-minded Bubble.

I am sitting in a bus which I, according to some, should not be on. The Polish people in front of me do not want to speak to me, the Italians behind me are talking far too loudly, so I cannot hear the English travel guide. The Polish travel guide sounds nice, but I cannot understand a word. When it is the English guide’s turn again, an indignant Italian woman stands up and loudly demands that she speak Spanish. The guide says she cannot. An English couple call the Italians ‘scrappy’. This is the European Union at grassroots level: not very united.

Prologue

If we believe the Brussels-watchers of the international quality press, Europe’s leading politicians have been doing a terrible job of late. The New York Times wrote in its editorial titled ‘Leaderless in Europe’ on 28 June: ‘The survival of the common European Union currency, free movement across national borders and trans-Atlantic collective security are all in serious doubt. Europe’s leaders are in denial or paralyzed.’ Canada’s Globe and Mail wrote about the Euro crisis on 15 July: ‘It’s about time someone in authority in Europe decided they had an emergency on their hands,’ followed by: ‘Actually, it’s been one long intermission for Europe’s policy makers, who’ve been talking throughout the play, annoying everyone else in the audience but doing very little.’ Meanwhile, Poland’s Prime Minister Donald Tusk chided Europe’s political leaders, ‘…who say they are for the EU, support further integration, but at the same time suggest actions and decisions that weaken the community.’ A particularly severe dressing down came from German professor Herfried Münkler in Der Spiegel: ‘Europe’s political elites are a pathetic sight at the moment, from their contradictory reactions to the rebellions in the Arab world to their timid handling of the euro crisis. Either they persist in doing nothing or they flee from one falsehood to the next.’ With the financial turmoil seeming far from solved, Europe’s leaders had better brace themselves for some more flak this year.

Splitting hairs, splitting up or splitting the difference?

The rebukes make perfect sense at first sight. The situation is urgent, with the single currency at stake, and free movement of people being undermined, a cornerstone of the union. It’s only natural, to urge those responsible to wake up and stop bickering. In the words of Jack Nicholson as president of the United States in the film ‘Mars Attacks’:

‘We can have it all, or we can smash it all. Why can’t we work out our differences?’

So, is it about time that the EU’s leaders – if we can still call them leaders – get rid of all their outdated differences, which only divide Europe and stand in the way of progress? It sounds like what an American friend, when he travelled around Europe, once said to me: ‘Europeans should all switch to one language. The way it is now, is just too inefficient.’

Of course, we think such naivety is funny, like we probably laugh about president Nicholson’s tear-jerking speech in ‘Mars Attacks’ and, more cynically, about how the Martians cruelly respond to it.

While many urge for the Union to step up its measures, there are critics like Mr. Münkler, who go further and say the only way out of this discord is to hand more power to Brussels. But Europe’s politicians are operating in a void: while the markets press them for quicker and stronger actions, they do not have a mandate from their voters. Any serious further centralization of power, whether it be expanding Europe’s rescue fund, issuing euro bonds, or a move towards fiscal federalism, needs to be approved by 27 member states, either by their parliaments or through referendums.

Remembering the resistance against the Treaty of Lisbon, the timing is bad for governments to give up yet more sovereignty. It would probably add to the backlash we are already seeing, and destroy even more of the fragile support the EU has left in many countries. So what some see as ‘procrastination and denial‘ (The New York Times on 5 August), are actually legitimate debates. While for the short term we need financial emergency measures, the Union really has to find ways to connect to its base in the long run.

Next week: part two

Is it the North v Club Med? Is it the Protestants against the Catholics? Is it the West against the East? Or the divide Slavic-Germanic-Latin? Is it all about the wine belt versus the beer belt? Europe, divided and complicated, is sometimes carved up into a few larger zones, to make it more comprehensible. Can such classifications be accurate, or are things never that simple?

It was the weekend of great panic on the financial markets. The world’s leading politicians were frantically phoning each other from their holiday addresses, trying to stem the western debt crisis. According to a survey, two thirds of the Dutch believed the Eurozone would not survive completely. In a series of previous surveys, between half and two thirds of the Netherlands’ public had opposed a new loan to Greece (that was nevertheless given). My own neighbour had said: ‘We’re not crazy! WE pay, so that THEY can retire at 50?’ (It was an exaggeration, by the way, that Greeks retire at 50.) Such opinions mirrored what the so-called populist politicians in The Netherlands, Germany and Finland had said on television. Some German commentators had suggested it would be better if countries like Greece leave the euro. I was in a local bar in Utrecht, the Netherlands. Why not gauge the mood a little? Where does the rift come from?

Pretty soon, one of the regulars remarked: ‘Did you notice all Euro-countries with too much debt are either Catholic or Orthodox?’, thus providing a nice sweeping generalization and an excellent starting point for an old-fashioned free-associating pub-argument, that might either end up in some fascinating new insight, or in only greater confusion.

Actually, it was me who pointed this out, because I was thinking of starting this story with a ‘comment from an ordinary man in a local pub.’ And since I did not want to make anything up, I made sure that somebody actually made the remark.

Can we make Europe a bit simpler for ourselves, by splitting it up into two, three or four areas, which roughly share a certain culture and mentality? That way we could explain the differences by just looking at the map. The European Union simply has too many countries to fully comprehend it.

Reactions were at first a bit hesitant. ‘I’m not sure there is a connection between Catholicism and debt,’ said one customer.

‘Some influential social scientists have said that northern, Protestant countries traditionally have a stricter work ethic,’ I explained. ‘It could be this diligence and frugality that prevented most of them from incurring too many debts.’ I free-associated further. Some of the criticism from the North towards the South had reminded me of an old-fashioned Protestant penitential sermon. ‘This repeated emphasis on austerity measures, do they really want to help these countries improve their economy? Or do they want to see them be punished and repent, because they haven’t worked and saved enough?’ I had to think of the word our German neighbours use for the countries that ask for support: Schuldensünder (‘debt-sinners’).

‘What about Poland?’ the regular asked, after he had thought about it a little.

‘Good point,’ I conceded. Poland’s debt is low, around 55 percent of national income, its economy is healthy, and yet it is one of the most devout Roman Catholic countries in Europe.

I gave it a second try. Maybe, I suggested, the great divide is not religion, but alcohol? ‘The countries with large debts are all wine drinking countries, except for Ireland,’ I had heard about the so-called wine-beer divide. Others name it Europe’s wine belt and beer belt, and also add a wodka or spirit belt in the north. They say that these areas share similar values, like – again – the work and savings ethic. The zones of problematic debt and wine seem to overlap pretty well.

I explained why people said the divide was significant. ‘It has historical roots. People living north of the territory where you can grow vines, had to work hard and stock up in summer, to survive the winter. So they learned to save. They drank beer all day, by the way, because the water was often contaminated.‘

Unfortunately, my description only made people thirsty. Someone offered the next round, and the conversation was diverted to everybody’s drink of choice. It was all beer, by the way, so you must not think we have a bad work ethic. But it was a bar with many kinds of beer, so off and on drinks dominated the conversation. Still, we can conclude that the Irish are spoiling what seemed a good explanation, only by doing what we did: drinking beer. Luxembourg does not help either, by drinking wine, while at the same time having very low debt (the anarchists). So much for the concept of ‘geo-alcoholics.’

‘Countries where they talk too much, versus nations that are too reserved,’ someone proposed.

‘The Italians are talkative. Are the Greeks?’
‘On Greek TV they are.’
‘The Fins certainly aren’t.’
‘What about the Irish?’
‘When they drink, they talk, yes.’

Whatever criterion we tried next, they all failed the test. We could not find a plausible way to explain Europe’s divisions. Actually, the more we tried, the more the rifts disappeared. The explanations were simply too ridiculous. So in the end it all came down again to 27 countries (17 in the Eurozone), every single member state fending for itself, like countries usually do. But since that weekend, the turmoil on the stock markets has continued, and this very much looks like the moment for an ‘all for one, and one for all’ approach. In everybody’s interest. Otherwise we must start worrying in which currency we’ll have to pay the next round. Whose turn is it, anyway? No no, not me again. What do you mean, ‘Can you lend me some money?’