Cherman Engineering

I read an article today by Stephen Hill in the Atlantic about how President Obama is looking to Germany as an economic role model. Specifically, the article addresses how Germany has managed to maintain a healthy manufacturing sector in the face of international economic woes and increased competition from cheaper labor markets.

I found the article particularly interesting because I think it touches on a few very good points where the U.S. can learn from Germany (and Europe in general). First, the author talks about how German industry maintains a healthy industrial Mittelstand (middle class - but referring to middle-sized businesses rather than individuals) that specializes in high tech, high precision goods. These companies actually supply the Chinese manufacturing juggernaut with the tools they need. In most cases, these companies have workers that get paid well and have full health coverage. Most important, however, is the fact that none of this would be possible without a strong (and longstanding) link between private companies and Germany's vocational training programs:

"The Land of Bismarck has fed its manufacturing machine with a steady supply of technicians, engineers and skilled workers through a superb apparatus of vocational training and technical apprenticeships. Companies work closely with regional technical schools, sometimes sponsoring programs to prepare the graduates so they are immediately job-ready." 

Though trade school numbers in Germany are high, they've also seen declines since the 90s. Source: German Federal Statistical Office.

As the author states, Denmark does an even better job of this than Germany; the vocational schools there know years in advance exactly which companies will need to fill which positions. I think there are two big challenges that the U.S. would face in trying to emulate this kind of workforce planning. With a population about four times the size of Germany's and many more times the size of Denmark, coordinating the needs of companies and the respective training programs would be much more difficult in the vast United States. Second, and more fundamentally, a paradigm shift would have to happen in the U.S.: I feel like in the last 20-30 years, young Americans have been told time and again that you've come up short if you didn't go to college and at least complete a Bachelor's degree. Many students who did reach this goal, and beyond, are now finding that college degrees aren't all they were cut out to be, and meanwhile, U.S. manufacturers can't find skilled workers. I think there needs to be a general reevaluation of the "value" of vocational training, along with various other professions beyond skilled industrial labor (Primary and secondary school teachers are the first that popped into my head).

The second thing that the author brought up that I found particularly interesting was the fact that "Germans have harnessed their wealth to foster an equitable and broadly shared prosperity that has given Germans an enviable living standard." A comment from a reader expounded on this: "In many ways, Germans are simply better at living and working together. They have a sense of national community combined with inherent resourcefulness which, when combined with smart and inclusive policies, ensures a great part of their long-term success." Though I think both of these writers are on to something, I also think both are perhaps a tad on the idealistic side in ignoring many of the shortcomings of German society. I think that Germany in fact has many of the same internal divisions and conflicts that are also present in the U.S.; but in Germany, the fierce American individualism and libertarianism is notably absent, so that highly progressive taxes and a robust welfare state are widely accepted facts of life (one indicator of this: the FDP are the strongest anti-tax/pro-business party in Germany – though not nearly as extreme as the Republicans or Tea Party – and after seeing their best result ever they still only received 14% of the vote). These social programs actually work for the most part, and the result is that the gulf between rich and poor is not nearly as wide as in the States.

Finally, a bit that the article does not mention: that despite having all of these efficient vocational training programs that help maintain a healthy manufacturing sector, Germany has also piggy-backed on some of the extremely harmful developments in the working world that the U.S. has spearheaded. I'm talking here about the rise and spread of the concept of the eternal intern (see this article from the Washingtonian). It's a buyer's market (for the employer, that is) out there on the job market, so German as well as American companies know they can get highly educated people to work for next to nothing because they want to gain some experience; at the same time, employers don't have to make any long-term commitments to most of their workforce.

As a former TA, I'm finding out now that I jumped out of the pot and into the fire of the private sector: it all looks a whole lot like what I experienced as the current employment model at universities: fewer and fewer well-paid professorships and an army of well-educated, underpaid "teacher-interns" teaching courses previously taught by professors. With the number of 'real' jobs shrinking, this 'well-trained army' in turn has nothing to look forward to but vicious competition for the few positions that remain. Not only is this employment model unsustainable, it will eventually come back around to bite employers in the ass as well. In the end, an intern with little or no job security and little hope for a permanent position are also less invested in their employer's success. It's a scary world out there, so let's hope the U.S. starts copying more of the German model when it comes to vocational training, and that the Germans realize that they're better off not taking a page out of the States' book in this case.

[steps down from soapbox]

Update: A new look for vocational training in the U.S., from NPR's Morning Edition

Berlin Water Pipes You Don't Smoke

This is a new-fangled blue pipe!

If you've ever taken a stroll through central Berlin, you've probably noticed the massive blue/purple/pink pipes winding along the sides of streets, over streets, and into the ground. In many cities, these structures would stand out starkly and draw a fair amount of attention from residents and visitors, but in Berlin they sort of blend into the fabric of the often-just-dirty-enough urban landscape. The surrounding graffitied walls and ubiquitous construction sites render the pipes relatively unremarkable. They themselves are often adorned with various tags and street art – just another kind of urban canvas to be utilized.

On the surface, the pipes are mere curiosities, but they actually reveal a pretty interesting and oft-forgotten aspect of Berlin's history; namely, that the entire city was built on top of a swamp. The region around Berlin has historically been referred to sarcastically as the "Streusandbüchse", and presented challenges from day one during the settlement of the area. The term Streusandbüchse translates literally as "sand box", but actually refers to a small box containing fine sand that was used to dry the ink on manuscripts. So what exactly does the Brandenburg-Berlin Streusandbüchse look like?  

The Spree-Havel region in Brandenburg/Mecklenburg.

Berlin is situated right in the armpit of the Spree and Havel Rivers, the latter of which flows into the Elbe about 150 km north of Magdeburg. Berlin sits just 35 meters above sea level on average, and just to give you an idea of just how flat this region is, the River Havel drops only 50 meters in its 325-km trip from the already-quite-flat Mecklenburg to the Elbe (see map, with the Havel in dark blue). A quick glance at the whole region shows that the rivers often bulge out into lakes as they pool up on the flat land. The Wannsee in southwest Berlin and the stretch along the Havel bike trail west of Potsdam are great examples.


Historically, Berlin was a late bloomer on the European landscape. As a backwater trading post on the outer fringes of the Holy Roman Empire, Berlin sat on swampy, primarily nutrient-deficient, loose soil (with the notable exception of the Havelland west of Berlin), and Middle Ages settlements were perched on silt islands that rose out of the lake-like Spree of the 13th century. The settlements were important for east-west trade, but for the most part stagnated. Some 400 years later in the mid-1600s, however, following a few spoonfuls of Black Death, a healthy dose of malnourishment and the death or emigration of half of its population during the 30 Years War, the Hohenzollerns looked to reincarnate Berlin, only this time much bigger and better. They called pretty much everybody to come on over, but perhaps most crucial to the expansion of the city were precisely those people who knew best how to build on swampy silt and sand: the Dutch. As Berlin expanded beyond the silty high ground around the river, engineers and architects from Holland came to the rescue, drained the land, and the rest is history.   

Unter den Linden. Notice the copious
construction cranes.

Today, the colored pipes are most commonly spotted near large construction sites. Together with modern pumps, they are used instead of windmills to lower the water table in order to set building foundations. There are also many problematic spots where the pipes are basically permanent, and on these you're more likely to find ads and/or graffiti, depending on what you call art, of course (see photo and check out Pink Pipes of Berlin!). The latest example of Berlin's high water table causing problems is at the now-notorious, to-be-finished-at-an-as-yet-uncertain-date-for-a-much-higher-price Berlin-Brandenburg Airport (BER) being built on the southeastern outskirts of the city. While the massive public project has been delayed for just about every reason ranging from flaws in the fire safety system to a shortage of check-in counters to the actual size and capacity of the airport, if the thing is actually sinking into the Streusandbüchse as this Focus article says it is, all those problems may be a moot. One would have thought they would have learned from the Dutch engineers in the 17th century, or from the myriad water pipes throughout the rest of the city. Lord knows, we'll probably be able to snap pictures of these above-ground pipes at the construction site for the BER airport five years from now!

Photo by rituffo: 'Pink Pipes of Berlin'

(If you're into early-80s German TV documentaries, this one on the Berlin freeway ring gives a nice idea of the idyllic landscapes that are Brandenburg. They mention the Streusandbüchse at 12:00, and unrelated, but the Fisherman at 27:00 has a pretty solid Brandenburgisch dialect)

Döner mit Allem – und Scharf

The indomitable, delicious Döner. What would a blog about life in Germany be without it? Ah, but first, I must begin with a heartfelt apology, for in case you hadn't noticed, I heartlessly slandered the Döner last week in order to make a point about cuisine in Berlin. I dared mention it in the same sentence with the far inferior Currywurst. Yes – today, I take it all back. This is my "Ode an den Döner"...

The Dürüm-Dönerbürste being put into action in Vienna.
That handsome feller on the right didn't even have time
to put his umbrella down.

Where I live, we don't eat the Döner, we brush our teeth with the Döner (the term Dönerbürste, or Döner-brush, has been bandied about in certain circles). Four out of five dentists do not recommend it, but I personally brush my teeth with Döner approximately as often as I actually floss. Doctors don't recommend them either; a BBC study found that the average Döner in England had around 1,200 calories (if you consider the 5-10 beers you drank beforehand your lookin' at 2 grand or more). You also often must brave less-than-sanitary conditions if you're keen on finding the best Döner in town; "the dirtier the better" is a pretty solid rule here. If you're not just a little bit nervous on your way there, you're probably going to be disappointed. There is also no edible item that I have eaten more of between the hours of 3 a.m. and 7 a.m. The Döner is a loyal friend of sorts; it's flavors and spices will accompany you wherever you may go, for many hours after eating. Don't think that a real toothbrushing will save you, either. Despite all of these things, I continue to thoroughly enjoy and love the Döner, and this keyed my interest in finding out just how a food with Turkish roots has ironically become one of the most iconic symbols of German cuisine.

The Döner gets its name from the Turkish word for "to turn around", and though its history begins on the shores of the Sea of Marmara in western Turkey, its true glory and worldwide fame wasn't realized until it traveled along with the Turkish Gastarbeiter (literally "guest workers") of the 1960s all the way to the German capital. Only there did it assume its current form as a sandwich, along with that wonderful mix of 'Salat komplett' (or ohne Zwiebeln if that's how you roll, though you're missing out) that we all know and love.

Where it all started: Iskender in Bursa, Turkey

So we first trace the roots of the Döner back to the the very brief capital city of the Ottoman Empire, Bursa (capital from 1326-1365). It's a city whose past glory as the center of a powerful empire – at least for 35 odd years – is today unknown to most. Its reputation certainly suffered from lying directly across the pond from its much bigger brother, Istanbul (or Constantinople, if that's how you roll). Likewise, it's importance as the prime mover in the development of today's Döner Kebab has gone largely ignored. I took a journey in 2009 that began in Istanbul. I crossed the Marmara Sea, and set off toward Bursa on a mission to find the original Döner (also, I had a day to kill on my Turkey trip and Bursa happened to be a quick and convenient ferry ride away, but this doesn't take away from how happy-as-a-clam I was when I found out the original Döner Laden was where I had randomly decided to go). After touring some of the fascinating original medieval villages on the outskirts of the city, my Couchsurfing host guided me to Iskender Kebab, the place where it all began. Yavuz İskenderoğlu, who lived during the latter half of the 19th century, was the first man to take the proverbial Kebab-bull by the horns – he deliberately and confidently turned what was previously a horizontal spit, and tilted it precisely 90 degrees. Just like that, the vertical Spieß was born. Iskender Kebab, as it's called today, is lean lamb, should be sliced thinly but widely, and is served on a plate over pieces of unleavened bread and with yogurt, and if you're lucky, the server will come around with the melted butter and tomato sauce and give you a nice friendly Turkish drizzle. Let me give you a little helpful tip at this point here though: when you're all sated and full of tasty rotated-meat goodness, you've finished your Iskender and are sipping Şıra and are brainstorming about possibly similar foods you've had before that you could compare to Iskender Kebab, don't say this: "Hey, this is basically like a Turkish gyro." Take it from me.

Only Döner is a better incentive than money (Photo from
the always-entertaining Notes of Berlin)

We fast forward to the 1960s in Germany, where work was plentiful, but working-aged men were not. Italians, Greeks, Spaniards, Moroccans, and of course Turks came to Germany as Gastarbeiter to fill the ranks. The full history of the Gastarbeiter is a topic for a different blog, but suffice it to say that – to the chagrin of many a German xenophobe – thousands upon thousands of Turkish men came in large numbers, and their families eventually followed. Somewhere in that mix, some Iskender enthusiasts settled down in Berlin and sought to give their fellow Turkish workers a little 'slice' of home, but this time a slightly more convenient and portable one. As with many of my favorite legendary food and drink inventions (the Reuben, the Martini, sliced bread, etc.), there is some dispute as to who exactly was the first person to take the bread that Iskender was served over, and repurpose it as a vehicle for the turning meat. One of the main claimants to the Döner Throne is now a retiree in Berlin named Kadir Nurman. With his humble stand near Bahnhof Zoo in the early 70s, he was slingin' Döner before it was cool, and it didn't take long before his Turkish clientele was joined by ze hungry Chermans. Let the controversy begin, though, because in 2009, the very reputable Guardian reported the death of the 'man who invented the Döner' in 1971, Mahmut Aygun. Perhaps the world will never know who really created the Döner. I like to think it was the multi-cultural soul of the city of Berlin that birthed such a divine drunk food. In the 40 years hence, Döner Kebab spits of wildly varying quality can be found on every street corner on nearly every town in Germany and increasingly Europe-wide: today, there are well over 1,000 Döner shops in Berlin, and over 16,000 in Germany alone. 

Despite a fair bit of controversy in recent years stemming from questions on the origins of the Pressfleisch-type Döner meat, the Döner continues to be serious business. Over 720 million Döner are sold annually in Germany (!), and even Angela Merkel was recently photographed awkwardly trying her hand with a big slicer. There is now an official certificate issued by the ATDiD (Avrupa Türk Döner Imalatçıları Dernegi, or the Union of Turkish Döner Makers in Europe), who despite piss-poor website design are at the very least pretending to regulate the quality of the turning meat. They even have their own annual conference, so it's gotta be legit, right? I mean, I'm sure at least there's no horse meat hanging out in there.

Mustafa's Kebab in Mitte (also in XBerg).

Yes indeed, the Döner has joined a long line of semi-circular, tasty, practical foods. The Cornish pasty, the calzone, the gyro, the taco – I'd even submit that the semi-circle competes with the beloved cylinder as today's shape of choice for handheld food. For all of its faults, the taste and smell of a nearby Döner Laden will never leave my memory, and I thank Iskender, Nurman, and all of the best shops in Berlin today that I'm still discovering (for me, there's no comparison thus far to Imren or Mustafas – you've gotta check out the latter's website). But in the end, I'm really no expert. To those of you in Berlin or elsewhere, I'm calling out to you: I want to hear where the best (and the worst) Döner is hiding out.

Pan-Asian, All the Time

The first part I believe...not so much the second.

Berlin isn't exactly known as a foodie capital among the world's metropolises. In fact, it's not even a foodie capital in Germany: its two most widely-known signature "dishes" are a sliced hot dog swimming in curry ketchup and a Turkish more-often-than-not mystery rotating meat sandwich (stay tuned here for part two of cuisine in Chermany). Now, I'm the first to admit that I love me a good quality Döner as much as the next guy, but by any standards these are not products requiring refined tastes.

Japano-Thai food, anyone?

Now, before I get into what I think are the cultural and historical roots of Berlin's lagging food culture, I wanted to mention my new personal favorite symbol of Berlin's food 'handicap'; namely, the ubiquity of the 'Pan-Asian' restaurant. On nearly every street, in train and U-Bahn stations, in tiny kiosks, shopping malls, and especially in certain corners of the former East Berlin, you can't help but notice the stereotypical pointy Far-Eastern typefaces on cookie-cutter style signage (see photos). 'Asia Restaurant', 'Oriental Wok', or the most honest of them that I've come across, 'Pan-Asia', call out to you to take a closer look at their amazingly versitile menus offering Vietnamese  pho and bahn mi, Japanese sushi rolls, Korean rice bowls, Chinese crispy duck, Pad Thai and the wonderfully generic 'China-Pfanne' (literally 'China pan'), which in no way has anything to do with China beyond having brown, asian-looking noodles and some soy sauce in it. In fact, these 'restaurants' can really be best described as the hybrid bikes of the food world: they do a lot of different things quite poorly. Your sushi rolls might look like fish wrapped in seafood and rice, and your pho will indeed contain a brown-colored liquid, but it will taste only vaguely like the original. At the very least, you can expect your spicy Thai dish to have about as much kick as a Wiener Schnitzel. I really hope somebody living in Beijing reads this and sends a pic of the pan-Europe restaurant around the corner slinging pizza, gyros, paella, fish and chips, and Wurstsalat on the same menu.

"I'll have the Pad Thai"

So the question inevitably arises: why Pan-Asian? Why not a Korean restaurant, a Sushi bar, and a Vietnamese specialty restaurant, all doing the things they're respectively best at? After all, anyone who knows anything about biking wouldn't take a hybrid cycle to a mountainous downhill race. My personal theory has a two-part explanation. The first part draws on the fact that nowadays, the far-flung corners of the former East Berlin that haven't taken part in rapid internationalization and gentrification (see Marzahn, Lichtenberg, Hohenschönhausen, etc.) seem to be the most fertile ground for the pan-Asian restaurant – and consequently the most drought-ridden ground for finding traditional country-specific Asian food). While West Berlin and the rest of West Germany spent the post-war decades becoming more culturally and culinarily diverse, and certain hip(ster) pockets of East Berlin rapidly internationalized upon the fall of the Wall, the rest of the East remains relatively isolated from these developments, sticking with its traditional 'German' (i.e. Brandenburgisch/Deutsch) cuisine and just getting its toes wet when it comes to ethnic Eastern food – which brings me to part two of my theory...

And they put the most appetizing
dish on the front cover!

...that northern Germany – and indeed most of northern Europe – started the world foodie race with a ten kilo ball-and-chain attached to its leg. Though the following quote from a friend cites the Netherlands rather than northern Germany, it could very easily also be said about Brandenburg: "the Dutch don't just have bad cuisine, they have no cuisine." Yes, when we think of most traditional "German" cuisine, we're really thinking about southern German or Austrian cuisine. Schnitzel, Spätzle, Maultaschen, Schweinsbraten, Flammkuchen, Gulasch, Knödel...all from the South (or the former Hungarian Empire).  Now, before all the Brandenburgers, Dutch, and northern Germans get their undies in a bundle because I've slandered their regional kitchen, let me explain. The vast majority of "national" cuisine is firmly rooted in the distant past (the U.S. being an interesting exception, but that's a topic for a different blog), and generally incorporates ingredients, vegetables, meats, etc. that were found in that region at that time. Though people in the pre-modern world moved around more than one might think, the lack of refrigeration and slow transportation methods meant that ingredients had to be sourced from the immediate vicinity – a great reminder of this fact for me was when a (living) German acquaintance said that they hadn't eaten a banana until they were in their mid-20s or 30s. The point is, chilly northern Europe (and England) had some pretty paltry ingredients at their disposal: fish, salt, root vegetables, cabbage, a few of the hardiest fruits, and not much else (see photo). I exaggerate, but you get my point; pretty much any spices beyond salt, and pretty much any spicy food – chili, coriander, curry spices, nutmeg, cilantro – were all completely unknown to most of Europe until the Dutch East India Company and other international trade brought them there in the not-so-distant past...after a "cuisine" and regional tastes had largely been established. These things seem to also have a remarkable ability to stand the test of time and passing of generations. What you eat and become accustomed to as a child has a lot to do with what your parents enjoy eating, after all.

Ah, my favorite publisher from the 90s: Verlag
für die Frau: Publisher for the woman (!).

So back to my original question: why pan-Asian? I think that (northern) German taste buds are playing catch-up. There are still a lot of Germans I know, most of them of the older generation, who are what I would call "sensitive" to strong flavors, intense spices, hot peppers and spices. I think the success of pan-Asian restaurants, at least up until now, has been in that they provide just enough in the way of exotic flavors (just as a hybrid biker wants to be able to ride in several different environments, but they don't want to go careening down a mountain). But things are changing fast here in the Hauptstadt, like rent prices and demographics and just about everything else. Many of my younger German friends are very well-traveled and are keen on a wide variety of world foods. In fact, we found the little Kochbüchlein depicted in these photos on a shelf in a fantastic little prix fixe restaurant across the street from our Friedrichshain apartment – a sort of symbolic novelty item reminding the diner of how food habits here have already changed dramatically. The gray foods, pickled and salted fish, and mushy cabbage are already in the rearview mirror in most areas, soon to be followed by all of these hybrid-bike-like pan-Asian restaurants. In anticipation of this development, a host of new region-specific ethnic restaurants are already booming in central Berlin, so much so that one has trouble booking a table at the multiple tasty Korean restaurants after Thursday (I'm looking at you, Kimchi Princess). There are now even a few Mexican joints that are actually worth their salt (look up Ta Cabron) – something I wouldn't have thought possible even five years ago. Like the shelf toilet and FKK, I think the pan-Asian restaurant will in all liklihood fade away in the next generation. I, for one, won't be complaining.

FKK in the DDR (and beyond)

Naked kicker (foosball), anyone?

FKK, or Freikörperkultur (literally 'free body culture'), is a century-old German institution, and it has a very simple philosophy: 'nudity is normal'. Revel in it – in public, in a park, in the water, on a bicycle. Let your bits swing freely when you're sunbathing, sitting in the sauna, swatting a birdie around with some friends, reading a book, or grilling up a juicy bratwurst. So where does this German (and to some extent, European) openness to nudity really come from? I think a quick look at the difference between the U.S. and Europe is a good starting point...

Americans are prudes – at least from the perspective of the Germans and the Europeans. I think my favorite example of this on the continental scale is the fact that American children are vigilantly shielded from exposed nipples and buttocks, sexual innuendo, and the like, but are free to (or implicitly allowed to) bathe themselves in blood, guts, and torture in films and games. Now, the last thing I want to do here is start a debate about guns and violence – it's like arguing with somebody over the existence of god. This article is all about the nudity, folks.

But so the point is, Americans view being naked as something fiercely private, while violence is and was historically a part of everyday (and public) life. I have a hunch that this contrast with Europe can be traced all the way back to America's prudish, Protestant roots, which were combined with an often lawless, vigilante-type justice as the U.S. expanded into an ever-westward-moving frontier with no discernable governmental structures. I've read many theories about Europe's relative lack of a culture of violence (a sort of counter-movement to the long history of wars, the fact that violence was exclusively the instrument of the nation rather than a part of individual volition, etc.); but I think the rise of FKK – in the sense of nudity being a completely normal thing, even in public – could perhaps be connected to Europe's secularization, which is often accompanied or replaced by a certain naturalism.

Two East-Berliners enjoying a little naked time.

In any case, the concept of FKK as a movement ('nudism') really could only come about as a nudity taboo emerged in 18th century Europe. Indeed, when society or the powers that be tell you you can't do something, it only serves to strengthen your resolve. The German FKK movement begins in earnest around the turn of the 20th century, and seems to be at its strongest when it's forbidden or verpönt (frowned upon).

A very quick aside: the birth of the FKK movement in Germany coincided with a nudism movement in the U.S., which never really blossomed into the mass movement seen in Germany.

So in 1954, GDR culture minister Johannes R. Becher declared: 'Schont den Augen der Nation!' (Spare the eyes of the nation!') as he closed down over 50 designated nude bathing spots throughout the country. Too many wrinkles, too much hair, too many body parts where they shouldn't necessarily be, too much...you get the idea. So FKK continued to gain popularity in the East after this declaration, to the point that it became one of the major defining aspects of East German culture. By the time the Wall came down, the Wessi (West German) was amused, and sometimes apalled, by the Ossi's (East German) penchant for not just sunbathing naked, but playing sports and hanging out in the nude. A 'Höschenkrieg' ('War of the Knickers') ensued on Baltic Sea beaches as the knicker-ful Wessis encountered the knicker-less Ossis. But why so popular in the East?? According to an article from NDR, some have blamed the lack of stylish bathing attire, some say Ossis were trying to carve out a bit of freedom in an otherwise oppressive regime. I'll let you decide, but I personally think that without the official ban in 1954, there is no mass movement.

FKK-themed clothing: so itchy, you'll
instantly want to disrobe. (Photo: Amazon.com)

Anyway, this 'Knicker War' has in fact had a strong and long-term detrimental effect on the FKK movement in general. The ranks today are dwindling and aging (check out this video in German – at your own risk – interviewing real live FKK-enthusiasts), and I think we can all see that the latter isn't doing any favors for the former. I mean, let's just say, purely hypothetically, that a 26-year-old American male were to arrive at an Austrian FKK beach in Austria's Salzkammergut for a little skinny dip, in hopes of curing his societally conditioned prudishness, only to find he is the sole swimmer/sunbather/reader/badminton player born after the Berlin Wall was built. Suffice it to say that even if said wrinkly nudists were the hippest, friendliest 55-plussers around, I still wouldn't have felt compelled to return, much less visit the official website and pay to membership fee.

The Sternfahrt: an event for cycling awareness,
or a perfect opportunity for an FKK demonstration?

I had one more recent first-hand encounter with the FKKers that underscores the continuing marginalization of a once-proud mass movement. I spontaneously decided to take part in the largest group cycling event in the world, called the Sternfahrt ('Star Ride'), in 2010 in Berlin. Some 150,000 people meet at 19 different starting points and converge on the Brandenburg Gate, where beer-drinking, sausage-eating, and chaos ensue. The point is to raise awareness for cyclists, despite the fact that Berlin, along with Copenhagen, already has one of the best bike infrastructures in the world. Anyway, I had big designs on the 90-mile Frankfurt/Oder starting point, but had had a long night and slept through the starting time, so Potsdam it was. Little did I know, this meant that I would get a little 'show' (see photo), as about 150 FKKers decided they would hijack the bike demonstration to raise awareness about FKK. A group of some 7,000 clothed bikers were physically blocked by the Polizei for 45 minutes while the FKKers debated with the police about the legitimacy of 'free'-riding. 'Das hier ist eine Familienveranstaltung' ('this is a family event'), said the police. Words were exchanged as meticulously uniformed officers conversed seriously with naked bikers in baseball caps. The FKKers finally relented, dressed (I have no idea where they had the clothes stashed because I didn't see any panniers), and on we rode, family-friendly, toward the Brandenburg Gate.

In the end, I think FKK as a movement will more or less die out with the current generation, but the underlying perspective of Europeans toward sex and nudity remains worlds 'ahead' of the U.S. I at least like to think that I'm not nearly as prude as I was when I first set foot in Germany and had my first FKK experience.

The Dirty South

Flanders – future newest member of the EU?

I promise to return to the lighter, stranger, funnier side of German culture in 2013. But first, one more foray into the complex dynamics of an increasingly unstable European Union...

In my previous post about the chinks in the armor of the European Union, I mentioned reinvigorated regionalist and independence movements within national borders of EU member states. Among others, the Catalonians, the Flemings, and the Scots have made concrete moves in this direction in recent months (read this very interesting and informative profile of the movements from die Zeit. The author does a great job of concisely describing and comparing their situations and histories). Though I personally think the recent rise of referenda on independence have a lot to do with the present economic and cultural uncertainty in the EU at large, these local movements have long histories as well, and tell us a lot about the human story in general. Indeed, human nature seems to dictate that as long as one is comfortable and provided with basic needs and work, political and cultural differences can be and are put aside in the interest of larger political and cultural units. We probably also have to add authoritarian government to the list of unifying forces, as in the case of the USSR and Yugoslavia, which promptly broke down into their regional parts – and in many cases descended into serious conflict – following the weakening or downfall of the respective regimes.

Scotland's flag – a long history of resistance,
and finally an independent land?

So there were really two things that struck me when reading this piece in Die Zeit. First and foremost is the European – and I would argue worldwide – trend away from national identities and borders toward more localized structures. As any history student knows, the nation seems like an eternal edifice to us today because all of us were born in an era where the world would look completely foreign without national borders. But of course in many cases in Europe, the nation wasn't even born until the second half of the 19th century, so the memory of a pre-national society is much more salient in many Europeans' collective consciousness; I think there are lots of places in Europe beyond the above-mentioned territories where you could ask residents with whom or what they identify most intimately, and the answer wouldn't be Germany, Italy, or Spain, but Bavaria, Lombardy, or Andalusia (or even Munich, Milan, or Granada). In the United States, even as regionalism is being muted by increased long-distance and urban migration, states such as Texas are reasserting their historical rebellious identities in the face of the clearly-tyrannical Obama administration. In China alone there are perhaps a half dozen examples of regional movements struggling against a government that spends much of its time and effort trying to hold together and justify the idea of one China. There are countless other examples in post-colonial Africa, the Middle East, etc. The case of regionalism in the EU is particularly interesting, though, because its constitution has specifically encouraged the preservation of these unique identities, perhaps to the detriment of the Union itself. Interestingly, if the Flemings want their own country, the 'Belgians' – or whatever is left if the Flemings separate – would have to agree to their entry into the EU along with the rest of the member states. Likewise, Spain would have to agree to Catalonia's legitimacy as a state. Can the EU really survive if the regionalism ball gets rolling and gains momentum? I can think of quite a few other regions that could gain momentum if these first regions successfully gain independence (South Tyrol, Friesland, Basque, etc.).

The Catalonians – funding Madrid amid
economic instability in Spain.

The other thing that struck me as I read about these referenda was just how often regional and cultural divides are defined by a north-south border. Italy, Great Britain, Germany, the U.S., and indeed the entire continent of Europe have distinct cultural and political borders that run horizontally. Though the south of Germany breaks the mold by being the richer region in Germany, the southern regions of all of these examples are viewed by their northern counterparts as being less productive, more provincial, or less economically successful parts of their respective nations, just as southern and Mediterranean Europe is seen by the North as the delinquent participants in the European Union. In this context, I couldn't help but remember Jared Diamond's book Guns, Germs & Steel, which, though flawed in many respects, does a pretty solid job of outlining in broad strokes the tendencies and trends of human movements, the proliferation of technologies and disease, and the distribution of cultures. In short, he points to the fact that all of these things tend to move much more readily and rapidly horizontally than vertically. This idea is based largely on the fact that weather and climate are huge factors in determining which microbes, plants, and lifestyles are possible or likely in a given place (geography and just plain chance also admittedly come into play). This is why a New Yorker would most likely feel more at home in London than in Savannah, Georgia, and it also reinforces itself because people from northern climes and cultures have a lesser tendency to migrate from north to south or the other way around. 

So I think my point with all of this is that I think that so much of the conflict within nations and continents is based on this inherent, fundamental difference between the sober, determined, industrious, colder, cleaner North, and the emotional, profligate, lazy, hotter, and dirtier South. At the small scale and the large – that is, at the continental or national, or even state level, these differences continue to strengthen and reinforce these regional (and linguistic!) identities. Where that leaves us in the globalized age remains to be seen, but I feel like humans – being animals that by nature organize in smallish groups – will always have a strong desire to identify with something on the local level. This tendency seems to be gaining traction again, perhaps as a backlash to the pervasiveness of global economies, culture, and technology. The question is whether the nation really has any relevance in this hierarchy as technology continues to render its borders irrelevant. The European Union just might be the perfect place to keep an eye on to find out.

European (Dis)Union

Greek discontent with German euro policy (or just the Germans?)

     Now that the U.S. elections have passed, and the Americans haven't yet peeked over the edge of the fiscal cliff, the Germans can get back to the business of discussing the euro, austerity, the fiscal responsibility of their southern neighbors, and the general future of the European Union. When the grand European project began in the wake of the Second World War, it was clear that Germany and France would have to be the core of the union. In the opening decade of the EU, Germany relished the chance to resume it’s role at the heart of Europe’s economic and political world. Indeed, the euro opened with a bang and quickly established itself as a consummately stable currency, despite the fact that cost of living pretty much instantly increased in all member states. Exports were strong, the elimination of trade barriers and international investment leading to booming economies in countries like Ireland, Spain, and later in the former Soviet territories. What lurked beneath, however, were some very key structural flaws in the common currency that have left the euro – and the Union as a political/cultural entity – where it is today: the currency remains stable against the equally fragile dollar, but it's future as the EU's common currency is quite uncertain. The Union itself, I would argue, wavers amid doubt that the differences between the countries (or perhaps regions) of Europe are just too great to reconcile. I even saw these chinks in the armor when I was living in Austria in 2006 and writing about the EU on the unfortunately now-defunct 'Stusie' blog.

     So if we boil it down to a nice, viscous goo, the problem in the European Union is that it is probably now too united to drop the common currency (read: boot Greece, Portugal, Italy?, Spain?) without inducing a domino-effect run on the banks of the rest of the Mediterranean, which would in turn surely send the world economy back into a spiral. On the other hand, it is not united enough to control a common currency the way it should be governed. Now, I'm no economist, but I do understand that when an economy in a given country stagnates, interest rates and a number of other currency controls can be manipulated to navigate and hopefully reverse the downturn (just as overheated economies such as China 5 years ago can be cooled). The planners of the euro – perhaps due to oversight, perhaps resulting from naivete regarding the debt boundaries set prior to the euro's debut (even the solid German economy is now hovering above the 60% of GDP debt limit set by the Maastricht Treaty) – did not foresee the fundamental differences between the member states' economies. The 2008 crisis shined a floodlight on these differences, but over time – even had the crisis not happened – this problem would have emerged anyway. In essence, with the euro pegged to the economic trends of the most 'core' members (Germany, France, the Netherlands, etc.), the rest of the countries were left powerless to react in an agile manner to the drastic effects of the downturn, or any other hypothetical financial event that may happen.

     Greece has become the face of this problem in Europe, and their economic failings have been attributed (mostly by politicians) to everything from corruption in the public and private sectors, excessive pension programs, and general laziness and profligate spending. The EU's (read: Germany's) response to this problem has been to scold Greece and the other 'problem states' for the above-mentioned shortcomings, and to institute austerity measures to quell debt. In a way, I think Merkel might feel like she's in a strategically stronger position advocating austerity: if it fails, she can simply point to the Greeks' inadequate implementation of the recommended steps. However, I'd like to set aside the debate about whether one can actually 'cut' one's way out of an economic crisis (for commentary on this, see nearly any column written by Nobel Laureate economist Paul Krugman) and have a look at the cultural complications brought about by Germany's response.  

     

     As the EU (read: Angela Merkel, having 'convinced' France and 'the north' to acquiesce) redirects money toward the south in order to calm market fears about those countries' economies, the general populations of both contigents are increasingly resentful and angry with the other side. The Spaniards and Greeks wield placards depicting Merkel in Nazi garb, believing that it is the intention of the Germans to 'punish' the Greeks for their impropriety. In Germany and the rest of the 'paying' customers, an already-present-but-latent air of superiority toward the lazy and profligate South has become more and more prevalent. In my experience, the average German is not aware of many of the advantages that Germany's economy derived from having free reign in the less-developed economies in Europe, and therefore view the ECB bailouts as pure-and-simple charity given to the problem states. In effect, I think both angry groups are missing part of the story, but who can blame them for being livid about losing their livelihood/jobs/tax revenues? 

My point in all of this is that the crisis with the euro, in some sense, has served to bring all of the underlying non-economic problems to the European Union to the surface. Now that business isn't booming the way it was in the early 2000s in Europe, the South-North divide has reemerged, Great Britain has suddenly walked back its participation in the Union, and perhaps most importantly, a number of historical intra-national local/regional independence movements (the Basque/Catalonians in Spain, the Flemings in Belgium, the Scots in England, etc.) have gained huge momentum in the past couple years (watch for my next post on this topic). Though peace persists on the large scale, all is not well in the Union, and I'm here to tell you that austerity won't bestow satisfaction on the North for having taught the South a valuable lesson in fiscal responsibility. Likewise, the debt-ridden states will find no resolution of their economic woes until the underlying shortcomings of the common currency are addressed.

Update: another interesting contribution to the debate from prominent economist Joseph Stiglitz in Slate magazine.