Germany and the Silk Roads – Chinese Imperialism, or German Protectionism?


 

The Silk Roads are returning. China’s largest and most ambitious international economic plan, the “One Belt One Road Initiative” (yidaiyilu) will see its influence tangibly spread over Asia, Africa and Europe. With newly planned trade corridors over much of the world, a vast number of countries will be affected by the initiative. Included in that number is Germany. The question arises: how will “One Belt One Road” affect the country?

The “One Belt One Road” initiative has not appeared over-night. Xi Jinping first announced his masterwork in September 2013[1] and has since then developed into an extremely ambitious vision. The Chinese leader pictures a better connected world, held together by free trade and global cooperation. The proposed maritime ‘road’ leads over South-east Asia to Africa, where China has been carrying out major infrastructure projects already for a number of years. The ‘belt’ stretches across Central Asia and all the way to Western Europe[2].

“Inclusiveness” (baorongxing) is the central word to Xi’s rhetoric for the project. For many outside of China, this standpoint seems uncharacteristic of a country renowned for its history of closed borders and secrecy but China has been gradually opening up business since the start of economic reforms in the late 70s. China is now not only more open economically, but also confident in its business know-how. The “One Belt One Road” initiative signals China’s desire – and capability – to join the major players of the world economy.

A number of German media outlets are already expressing their fears over the new silk roads. Wary Critics point to China’s track record for promoting their own form of ‘illiberal free trade’ at ends with the western model of international trade, expecting its development to be damaging to German companies. The Brics states are portrayed as an enemy of a more just existing western system, with China at the centre of the trouble[3]. The closeness of Putin to the Chinese leadership and his willingness to be part of the project scares the German media further. [4] There is concern for China’s apparent desire to make economic in-roads into the Eurasian region on their own conditions.[5] This behaviour is generally known as making trade agreements, and both Europe and America are quite used to doing it themselves.

Any bilateral agreement does of course have political implications, but Germany’s fear of working with China on predominantly Chinese terms is telling of previous agreements where Europe has been the instigator of negotiations. More justified would be a view of caution towards the kind of company, rather than Chinese FDI in general.  Up to now mainly only state-owned companies have been involved in the initiative.[6] That could potentially lead to more Chinese political influence internationally in trade compared to Chinese private companies.

Some German companies are however openly enthusiastic, with eyes fixed solidly on new business opportunities. Duisburger Hafen in Nordrhein-Westfalen already considers itself a central point for trade relations not just between China and Germany, but also Europe. In October 2016 the port claimed that “when you are in Duisburg, you are in Europe”[7], as part of an announcement regarding expanding its China business. Duisport already cooperates with Urumqi, Far-western China’s trade powerhouse; a city central to the new Silk Road’s expansion due to its strong position in central Asia.

Some Chinese groups are meanwhile not entirely satisfied with current Sino-German trade relations. The China International Investment Promotion Agency, accused Germany of protectionism directed at China after changes in Germany’s regulation of foreign trade[8] but as both countries are members of the WTO, it seems unlikely that Germany actually is able to target China unilaterally with trade restrictions. It is however important that Germany is the one being criticised for poor international trade practice. The standpoint also parrots Xi Jinping’s ‘Inclusiveness’ rhetoric.

Germany does not appreciate the very general sounding rhetoric China prefers to use when it talks about official plans. Just like the extremely vague (and clearly related) Chinese Dream (zhongguomeng) back home in China, there is no exact, set in stone plan for the new Silk Roads. Instead China offers a lofty dream with networks of possible trade corridors on maps with a mysterious lack of national borders. Daniel Müller from the Ostasiatischen Verein believes that the new Silk Road is more of a conglomerate of many individual initiatives rather than one unified grand plan.[9] From the Chinese perspective, this pragmatic approach is perfectly normal; indeed it is part of modern Chinese culture. For Germany however, the uncertainty raises concern further.

Much of the misunderstanding between Germany and China stems from differences in political and business culture. Germany favours clear, objectively measurable plans. China on the other hand prefers big ideas resolved with pragmatism. Deng Xiaoping’s infamous pragmatism brushed off on the nation, and has remained the culture ever since. As the new Silk Roads progress,  what Germany is likely to find even more challenging than China’s apparent lack of clear planning Is the country’s special brand of pragmatism, with force.

German critics’ fears of the “One Belt One Road” Initiative are focussed on the wrong concerns. The massive infrastructure project will not necessarily be bad for Germany and its businesses, but will change political and economic relations in ways  which as of yet  are hard to predict. What is certain: the “One Belt One Road” initiative will change global relations massively.

Written by Timothy Van Gardingen,  Student of German and Chinese at the University of Leeds, on 25th October 2017. 

I am currently writing my dissertation on the relationship between Germany and ‘One Belt, One Road’. I would be grateful for any commentary and criticisms from any experts who happen to stumble across my article. As of yet, there is very little scholarship on the topic, and any pointers will be greatly appreciated.

[1] SCIO. 2016.  哈萨克斯坦:“一带一路”从这里走向世界. http://www.scio.gov.cn. Retrieved on 24/10/2017

[2] Telepolis.  2017. China: Der Traum von einer neuen Seidenstrasse

[3] Zeit Online. 2017. Chinas Traum einer neuen Seidenstrasse

[4] Zeit Online. 2017. Chinas Traum einer neuen Seidenstrasse

[5] Zeit Online 2017. Chinas Traum einer neuen Siedenstrasse

 

[6] DW. 2017. Die deutsche Sicht auf Chinas Seidenstraße

[7]“Duisburger Hafen. 2016. Duisport is expanding its China Business „when you are in Duisburg, you are in Europe” retrieved from presse.duisport.de. 25/10/2017

[8]China International Investment Promotion Agency (Germany). 2017. Kommentar zur Änderung der Außenwirtschaftsverordnung durch die Bundesregierung. www.ma-dialogue.de. Retrieved 24/10/2017

[9] DW. 2017. Die deutsche Sicht auf Chinas Seidenstraße

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A quick trip to Prague


There is something a little wrong feeling to me, writing about Prague before I’ve even really written about my new home in Leipzig in any depth, but that seems to just be how it’s going to go.

I’ll put it down to actually having taken photos in Prague, and not down to a serious case of slacking. I’m kidding myself really though.

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You have probably heard of Prague. It’s turned into a bit of a tourist hot spot in recent years, as far as I can tell. There certainly were a fair few there. That however doesn’t take away from it being a fabulous city. It’s cool, it’s arty, it’s historic, and wonderfully Gothic. Gothic will always score points with me.

So why did I end up in Prague when I should be busy exploring Leipzig? A good friend of mine came to stay and we decided to go on a trip out of town. Prague just happens to practically be down the road. It’s about an hour to Dresden on the bus, which is almost on the Czech border, then the Czech Republic (officially Czechia now, but the name apparently isn’t catching on at all) is a conveniently small land making the second half of the journey happily brief.

That’s not to say I would have complained at a longer stint through the Czech countryside. It’s beautiful. Living in deathly flat Saxony is a bit of a curse for me, seeing as my pet hate of Cambridgeshire back in the UK is its boredom-inducing views. The majority of the Czech Republic is surrounded by mountains, and although our bus drove only through comfortably rolling countryside, lofty mountains were always in the distance.

Something about the rolling fields was puzzling though. I could swear they had changed colour since Germany. The saxon fields of flatdom are at the very least of a very pleasing green (Cambridgeshire fields are usually brown and frankly crap), but over on the Czech side I swear the grass was slightly bluer. Now, I’m willing to accept I’m just mad, but that’s what I thought. Blue-ish-green fields. Lovely.

And then of course moving further east in Europe means the buildings change quite a lot. Although Prague as a city was impressively gothic, the churches appearing from the hilltops in the countryside had a distinctly orthodox feel about them. I believe that the predominant form of Christianity in the land is actually Catholicism, but the church architecture makes me think of further east. Of course, that is almost irrelevant anyway, as being a former east bloc country means that most people are irreligious these days.

I didn’t get any photos of that lovely Czech countryside. I was too busy enjoying it. I never get any good shots from bus windows anyway really.

So. After rolling along in a coach over rolling, slightly blue-ish (mainly green) hills, Demi and I arrived in Prague. We only had a day and a half, so had to use our time well to get the most out of it.

Naturally we through that idea to the wind and spent a good chunk of time in coffee shops.

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being Bohemian in Bohemia

I’m going to put it out there and say that doing so is almost justified in a place like Prague. If there is a positive word for those strange folk like me that find themselves willingly holed up in coffee shops for the best hours of the day, every day, then that would could well be bohemian. Prague just happens to be the main city of Bohemia. Although this land may not exist today, the feel attributed to the word certainly does. Therefore I (and I hope Demi too) feel no regret at the dangerous amount of time spent sipping coffees on a more dangerous time restriction.

We spent the rest of the time wondering the wonderful streets with our cameras.

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or taking photos of cameras inside the coffee shops.

Honestly, we did actually go outside a bit.

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How could you not, when a city looks as good as Prague does?

There’s clearly so much to do in the city. I was quite desperate for example to go to the Kafka Museum, as a huge fan of that genius existential miseryguts. Being a former east bloc city, there is also a communism museum hidden in its windy streets. Then of course towering over the river from the old town is Prague castle, apparently one of the largest castle complexes in the world.

Unfortunately the old town was so touristy we turned back for quieter streets, and never quite made it to the castle. I get the feeling it is a must see however, if you are not busy being ‘bohemian’ in coffee shops.

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I’ll just put some proof of actually stepping outside now.

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Prague sits comfortably on Vlatva, which is the longest river running through the Czech Republic. I showed my ignorance by thinking that it was the Danube. Nope.

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The buildings really are beautifully ornate in Prague. I’ve never really been one for balconies, but I’d be pretty chuffed if my house had a balcony like those in Prague.

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I even appreciated the road signs in Prague. I don’t drive, so I can’t say the road signs are my favourite thing in the world, but I have to applaud a town which has road signs for segways.

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And signs for classy gentlemen to cross roads.

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See, this shouldn’t have surprised me so much, as former East Germany still holds on proudly to its Ampelmann. The fellow of traffic crossing light fame even has his own shop in Berlin.

Prague does of course have historic links, for better or for worse, to the German speaking world. It was an important city in the Habsburg Empire after all. Kafka after all, wrote his stories in German, not Czech. It is worth pointing out that he wasn’t hugely fond of German, despite it being his chosen creative language. He saw German as the language of bureaucracy – no surprise really, when you consider it was  the ruling language despite Czech being the native tongue.

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Remants of German on an older street sign.

In fact, when I think about it, Prague and the Czech Republic has had a rough past. Most nations with ‘Republic’ in the name have had to stand up to something annoyingly aggressive in their histories, and within the last a hundred years, this city has been part of politically unstable Habsburg empire, with all the in-fighting that came with being part of that unhappy club. Then it found itself part of the communist east bloc. The country (as Czechoslovakia) was flung into an anti-communist revolution after the fall of the Berlin wall and the ensuing collapse of the east bloc. By 1992, The Czech Republic had come into being.

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Now back to wondering streets. The part of the city I was really looking forward to seeing was Charles bridge, a gloriously Gothic construction running directly to the old town. Despite standing directly on the bridge, I don’t recall seeing it. I think if you removed all the brickwork of the given bridge, Demi and I still could have crossed the bridge quite happily as long as the tourists left hanging in mid air by the lack of bricks stayed where they were.

Ignore physics for a second, and imagine it’s perfectly plausible they would just float there. Charles Bridge was absolutely stuffed with humans.

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I had to look for details on the bridge instead, as there wasn’t much chance of a dramatic panorama of the bridge itself. These saintly looking fellows were practically telling me it was a mistake to try fighting through the crowds.

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As for this saintly looking fellow, it seemed to be a tradition to touch him as you cross the bridge. No idea why. I could research it, but I think its more fun to puzzle over it instead.

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This saintly fellow was telling me to get off the bridge, offering a kindly recommendation for the castle you see in the background. Demi and I, as previously mentioned, ignored the suggestion due to crowds. We were not smited, and are both in good health after refusing kindly instruction from such a religious looking dude.

IMG_6997 I had also heard before getting to Prague that the city has a love of puppets. This man was the only puppeteer I saw in the whole city, but at least his puppet fitted wonderfully with its Gothic home. I had Sonata Arctica’The boy who wanted to be a real puppet in my head for the rest of the day.

On all things arty, I’m so happy that the trip to Prague taught me the name of an artist I’ve been wishing to know the name of for a while. Mucha. I absolutely love his rich, almost mystical style, but I didn’t know his name until bumping into his work throughout his homeland.

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Luckily his art work was proudly shown all over the place. It also suggested trying the local absinthe. So we did.

I had to approach the green fairy with some care, as I had been warned by my mum that there was a potential family heritage risk with it. High quality absinthe contains a hallucinogen, and mum had warned me she reacted badly once to a related compound found in a medicine she had been told to take. The waitress at Absinthe Time did also give us practically a briefing on the drink before we bought anything.

I still love her description. She told us that Absinthe will potentially “change our perspective of reality”.

In small amounts, a good Absinthe is meant merely to give you euphoric feelings. That is I imagine unless you choose Absinthe on the menu with 8 times the recommended amount of narcotic in it.

Me, paying heed partly to mums advice, and partly to the advice of my wallet, opted for something a bit more standard. It turns out that a good Absinthe is actually a gorgeous drink. If you don’t like the taste of anise then give it a miss, but otherwise it has to be one of the most drinkable spirits out there.

The correct process for preparing the drink is also quite the performance. The waitress came over to our table with a bottle of absinthe, two glasses, sugar, a special spoon, and a lighter. Anyone with any reasonable sense, or absolutely none at all, will know that spirits set on fire quite easily. That was the intention with the Absinthe. Our waitress set our absinthe on fire, and slowly melted the sugar cubes into the glasses of absinthe. After leaving the glasses to cool, our drinks were ready.

Euphoria was the word. We left the bar with a strange mixed feeling of being lightly tipsy, but at the same time strikingly chirpy for a state of drunkenness. Great fun.

As it happens, the Czech republic is simply a land known for its alcohol. Somehow I wasn’t fully aware of to what extent before getting there. The Czech republic is famous as home of the Pils. Pils comes unsurprisingly from Pilsen. Despite living in the part of Germany that is more into pilsner than weissbier and so on, I’m not really a Pils person myself. I gave the local pils a go nonetheless, and discovered that, actually, the Czech republic knows how to make a pilsner. I’m left wondering if Germany’s world fame for beer should perhaps be gifted over across the board to Czechia, because although German beer is good, damn, that Czech beer is also good. In terms of Pilsner, Germany is left floundering awkwardly somewhere behind the Saxon Alps.

A discerning Demi approved. Ignore for a moment that her beer is actually not a pilsner. It is at least definitely Czech.

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Beer is always the right place to end. If you follow in the footsteps of some of my local Leipziger folks, then it is also quite a reasonable way to begin, namely a hearty morning pint on the tram on the way to work. But for today, seeing as this post has been about a short visit to Prague, I will leave Leipziger drinking habits to another day.

 

That time I moved to Germany, and became critical of organised education


Two weeks ago I moved to Germany, but let me talk about something completely different and seemingly unrelated. (I get to Germany later on)

I love and hate my degree simultaneously. On one hand, it lets me be an explorer of sorts. That extends much further than literal travel, although that certainly plays a part! On the other hand, it gnaws away at my attempts to hold onto my other interests. Where can I find time to create, be it writing, drawing, painting or music; when essays and language practice watch over like vultures?

I’ve been acutely aware for months how draining it is to sacrifice everything in the name of a piece of paper. That piece of paper will in the end be the bearer of a number for others to nod at with disinterest before nodding with disinterest at another piece of paper bearing a similar number. For me it may symbolize four years of loving struggle; a pursuit of knowledge and skills. Hidden within that number will be stories, excitement and pain, friends many gained and a few lost along the way. For the disinterested nodders, I will be that number, and that number will carry as much depth as curved line can without context to explain it.

Yet us students keep on striving for that number.

For the past two years my main goal has been to work less hard. Yes, less hard. The problem is, I just can’t do it. Back in the UK I would wake up early so I could work a few hours before uni began, then between lectures I would work. Some of that work I would do in coffee shops – that was my break for the day. Back at the flat, I would cook, then work again. For the last few months before I moved to Germany, I did actually succeed in making time for guitar most evenings too, and occasionally writing articles for my student paper. Weekends? What’s a weekend.

A small number of my readers will know that I used to write fairly profusely before I began my degree, and since then something has appeared here maybe once every couple of months. In every post over that time of sparse writing, I’ve written about how rarely I write, then claim that this time I’ll be back to writing properly…and then I’m gone again for months. That comes down simply to not giving myself free time.

For me, it’s a testament to why the myth that hard work guarantees success is just that, a myth. What I gain from over-work is to sit at a slightly higher than average spot on my degree, but far from the ‘best’, whatever that may mean. What I lose is peace of mind, and my interests outside of my degree. There is a difference between hard work and efficient work.

The paradox lies in how much I actually love what I study. Language learning is practically a game. You learn the rules, and as you progress you open up new skills, stories and places. Further on your entire way of thinking changes. It is no hyperbole to say that language learning does change your world entirely. But neither is it my whole world.

To further that paradox, my other interests which I am ‘losing’ to my degree benefit so much from my degree. My writing now enjoys global influence. Musically I’m no longer restricted to the (relatively) limited approach to music of the English speaking world. Yet with no time dedicated to letting these rich influences grow into my own creations, I’m left wondering whether in the end I gain or lose more.

Ironically my first step to escaping the domination of my degree over my life was to do even more. At the start of this year I started reading at least a book a week outside of my degree, and what a decision that has been. Aside from forcing me take time out from university content, my learning has become so much richer over the space of a few months. One books in particular has ripped apart my view of learning and exposed a certain futility in the organised education system which practically encapsulates my life.

The book is relatively well known, a cult classic so to say: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. To those unaware of this book, it is much more gripping that the title makes it sound. In fact, Earth shattering is how I would describe it.  I don’t want to give away too much about its story, but the book is extremely critical of modern organised education. The character Phaedrus is driven mad (ahem, got to be careful with words here) by university’s goal of good marks over accumulation of knowledge. As a professor he plays with removing grades entirely from his classes, which is met by opposition from students obsessed numbers on pieces of paper.

Phaedrus is also highly critical of modern education’s rationality. This may seem an odd criticism, but as he points out in the book modern society has rationalized the world to a point where all that cannot be empirically analysed. University sneers at any other approach, despite rationality’s interdependence on the irrational. What does a degree accumulate to? A number. What does self study result in? You choose. It doesn’t have to  result in anything other than the journey. The point is, when education is too structured and too rationalized, it becomes a means to an end. An abstract number is valued thousandfold over the road taken to get there.

In passing I’ll just say that this topic is just one of many within the book. Up to the last sentence (actually, especially the last sentence) I found personal philosophies and world views being teased and snapped into tiny pieces. But back to education.

Applied to my own university experience, I see parallels with both Phaedrus (extremely worrying given the events in the book) and his students. The striving for grades is strangely counter-productive. In order to give grades, a particular content must be fed to students. In offering a particular content, certain elements must be considered more important that others, and each student learns not what is most valuable to them, but instead what is plastered onto all.

But what other option is there? We all need to get our little number so we can be chosen to be a number in another organisation further along the people production line.

An interesting thing happens when Phaedrus abolishes grades. That course suddenly becomes about the journey. With no way of checking progress, the students have to go out of their way to learn. With no abstract goal to achieve, the goal becomes the road instead.

I think rich, meaningful education is to be found on the road, not the mountain top. Somehow we all forget that once you’ve climbed up to a peak, there’s another path to take on the way back.

These ideas where actually coming into my head before I read zen and the art of Motorcycle Maintenance but the book helped consolidate those views. The fact I read it in the first place was a result of trying to escape the abstract goal-oriented university approach. It was only after reading the book however that it became clearer where the standard university learning approach was leading: Eventual burnout imposed disinterest to my studies and the loss of all my other interests. That is not the place where I want to be.

This is the context in which I start my time in Germany. Yes, I am studying here and that makes everything I’ve written here look contradictory, but really this is about unhinging the dominance of university based study. I intend to write regularly about my life here over the next few months. Much of that will be in this context of my struggle with structure.

At the end of March I moved to Leipzig, a city in the east of Germany near the Czech republic. These days it’s known as a cultural hub, with a huge music scene, a plethora of museums, and numerous events throughout the year. I’ve heard that people from Europe’s city of Cool, Berlin, are even moving to Leipzig. Sure enough, there is plenty happening here. I only need to walk for a few minutes from my flat and I usually find something interesting happening. To impromptu street gigs to guys painting forests on buildings, this is a city living and breathing creativity.

Yet Leipzig is in the former east. Not so long ago, it was one of the major cities of the German Democratic Republic. Hints to that past are everywhere. The west of the city where I live is a region marked for redevelopment, highlighting its past as a factory district. What is now the cool cultural part of town in the near past was dominated by industry. The city is much more openly left wing than anywhere else I’ve ever lived before too, and by that mean most of the left spectrum is covered. Die Linke are the German political party with its roots in the communist past, and they have a meeting place just down my street. They’re rather popular in the city. There’s a definite presence of something a bit more anarchic too in my part of town. Some of the local graffiti reads for example “Capitalism kills; kill capitalism”, or “Burn all prisons! Solidarity for all Prisoners!” On a lighter end of the political spectrum, social initiatives are everywhere, and there is a feeling of strong local solidarity. I haven’t got out with my camera yet, but I’ll have some examples from the street for you all soon no doubt.

Seeing as I’m here in Leipzig for a few months I’ll keep everything simply to an overview tonight. I’ll write more in detail  as I have more to say!

Although my university course back in the UK is German and Chinese, that’s not what I study here. It would admittedly be a little odd studying German in Germany…as it’s best simply to live the language of a country where you live. As for Chinese, I get a much needed break. Instead, I study a mix of politics and German literature. I also chose a Swedish course as an opportunity to move forward a language that’s been in limbo for a while. Studying in a second language is quite the experience, so there will be plenty to write about there. The hours are unnaturally short in comparison to the course at Leeds, and this will hopefully be the perfect environment for working out my uni study and interest balance. I refuse to let Leipzig steal my writing time at the very least!

It was always my intention to get involved in the music scene here in Leipzig. One of the most exciting things for me, is that Leipzig is home to one of the world’s largest goth festivals. Now that’s something a bit different, and I’m thoroughly looking forward to it.

While I’m here I also need to be thinking about a dissertation topic. As it happens, as I was wondering around the streets near my flat, it suddenly struck me how much of the Leipzig vibe is dependent on it’s Communist history. There could well be a dissertation topic in there. ‘Ostalgie’ or nostalgia for East Germany is well documented, but most discussion of positive remnants left from the DDR are concerned with social elements and not culture. That needs more thought, but it could be really interesting.

So there we go. I’ll be writing as I explore Leipzig, but see this as an introduction of sorts. I just want to wrap this all up with a thought about my rant on education that makes up over half of this post. Although I am technically here to study, in many ways I am using my time in Leipzig as 1/ a break from the uphill fight that my degree has been, and 2/ an opportunity to balance the system with my drowned out interests. My time in Leipzig isn’t meant to be about goals, but about moving along a road and making that road a little bit wider.

 

 

 

 

 

Holocaust memorial off-limits to AfD leader


originally published at The Leipzig Glocal

 

Even with a global rise of the extreme-right, it’s safe to say no one would expect its leaders to visit a holocaust memorial with any intention other than to cause trouble. That seems to have been the thinking as member of the far-right wing AfD Björn Höcke was blocked from attending a holocaust memorial at the former concentration camp Buchenwald. Such a decision at first seems reasonable; even sensible, but there are implications. It was certainly right to block him entry to the memorial, but that doesn’t mean his spiteful opinions should be silenced entirely, as to do so has its own dangers.

Would Höcke have been rejected entry to the memorial if he had not made his recent speech in which he called for an end to what in his eyes is a culture of lingering on nazi crimes?

He described the Berlin holocaust memorial as a ‘memorial of shame’ and demanded a ‘180 degree turn in political memory’. These are hardly the words of a politician wishing to attend a holocaust memorial to pay respects. Either he is a hypocrite who likes to make controversial statements for fun and not for action, or Höcke intended to carry out some form of twisted protest at the very site of historical horror and regret.

Höcke’s party leader, Frauke Petry, even denounced the speech, stating that “Björn Höcke has become a burden for the party, with his go-it-alone attitude and constant sniping”. This highlights how much he and his views stand outside of an already far-right party. Petry’s condemnation could however be taken to be in the light of the recent attempted ban of the extreme-right NPD. The AfD cannot risk being seen as too far-right as that would risk being considered Verfassungswidrig, against the constitution.

As right-populist as the AfD is, they are not the NPD. It appears as if Höcke would fit nicely into the more extreme, but in disarray party. The decision not to ban the NPD was followed by disbelief at the time, as the reason given was that the part was too insignificant to damage Germany’s democracy. The AfD in contrast is not insignificant and therefore would not have the same defence against an attempted ban. As unfortunate as Höcke’s views are, he should be allowed to express them. We know from the past that banning extreme opinions in their entirety causes greater problems by driving supporters of such views underground. That eventually leads to groups like the NSU and the RAF terrorist organisations of the not-so-far past.

Höcke’s ban from attending the memorial therefore comes down to location. Although historical memorials do have a political background and do have political consequences, they are not the location for aggressively stirring up emotionally-fuelled political questions. It is impossible not to be shaken emotionally by a visit to a former concentration camp. Many visiting the Buchenwald memorial will have been affected more personally than others.  Whether Germany does as Höcke believes linger too much on past horrors or not, a place symbolic of millions of innocent lives lost is not and never will be the place to express that opinion.

We are left in the difficult situation of having to grant Höcke his unpleasant beliefs, but that certainly does not make him welcome where his beliefs would bite hardest.

by Timothy Van Gardingen

Feature photo: Björn Höcke at open house in Thüringer Landtag, 13 Juni 2015. By © Vincent Eisfeld / vincent-eisfeld.de, CC BY-SA 4.0, Wikimedia Commons.

 

 

 

 

 

A follow up to an earlier award post…


I have just realised that on the last award i recieved i was supposed to say 7 interesting things about myself. So i just thought i would do that now…it allows me to write a quick post when I don’t have the time to write a more creative and -dare i say it- a more interesting post. Some of the regular readers might enjoy finding out a few random facts about me though, so enjoy 🙂

1. I had never written a piece of poetry before starting up thoughtofvg and it only became focussed on poetry through pure coincidence. Some people tell me I do a pretty good job of it, so there must be some talent hidden away there 😉

2. My dream is to live in either Germany or Scandinavia making my way in life through creative means only. I dread the 9-5, even if i must at some point be part of it in order to realise my dream.

scandinavia

scandinavia (Photo credit: herbstkind)

3. Music and painting are my mains form of expression, not writing. Luckily writing becomes part of music and words are visual as well as spoken, so everything comes together in the end.

4. I’m still at school and will be for another year. I was forced to stay a year extra than usual in order to study what i wanted to.

5. I am currently on a personal journey to become a better person. I think it is a journey we all should take once we discover the start of its path.  Just as Plato believed, (but in slightly different context) none of us will ever reach the end of it but we certainly are doing better than most to try.

Plato. Luni marble, copy of the portrait made ...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

6. I have one fundamental goal in life. To be happy and to make others happy.

7. none of points 1 to 6 have yet been fully fulfilled.

and a bonus point. 8. I seem to tell this blog more about myself than i tell even my closest friends or family. So i hope you followers get something out of reading my posts 🙂