Monday 23 February 2015

Is Greece ready for the New Drachma

On Friday 20th February Tsipras, Varoufakis and the Greek people found themselves between a rock and a hard-place. The rock was supplied by Wolfgang Schäuble who has been quite gloating in his intentions to break the Greek delegation and continue with EU's strategy for the Eurozone. The hard place was supplied by the Greeks themselves as the announcement on Greek media that around €20 billion had hemorrhaged from Greek bank deposits since December and the scene was set for a full-on run on the banks. Of course, telling people that their deposits may not be safe can have but one result; their deposits will not be safe. An insolvent banking system would be politically disastrous for the most popular government since ousting the junta in 1974. Finally Tsipras ad Varoufakis had no choice but to capitulate and return home with their tails between their legs.

           

Tsipras has vowed that if he doesn't get a fair deal he will leave slamming the door so hard that the whole house will fall in. Has that time come. The win that has be lauded, in lieu of anything else to say is that the Eurogroup has agreed to see a list of proposals for exactly how they intend to bring the economy into check, this is seen as a positive but we must also consider that while the knot has been loosened, it is also possible to wriggle the noose tighter still. There is no way that the Eurogroup (Schäuble) will be satisfied with the proposals this whole exercise is a last ditch demoralisation tactic, maybe even to force Tsipra’s to play his hand. The backlash has begun with the most audible coming from within Syriza’s own ranks, Manolis Glezos has accused Tsipras of trying to get away with calling meat fish with reference to the lexical realignment of the Eurogroup agreement.

Are the Greeks finally ready to bite the bullet and embrace the Drachma again.

There have been no reliable domestic polls on a Grexit and return to the Drachma and none could possibly done as merely putting the question to the people would cause the mother of all runs and a collapse of the economy before anything could be done. I have been trying to gauge public opinion here on the subject and the first impression took me by surprise, people are reluctant to talk about it. This is strange for a people who have always had a preoccupation with politics, taken relish in criticising the government and more recently the governments of its European partners but now starting the conversation provokes nervous fiddling with smart-phones, shoulder-shrugging or irritated changes of subject. So tired by hope against hope, so weary of broken plans, many have shut down completely. Their last burst of excitement spent, they are resigned to a new status quo and are trying to get on with breathing again. The world outside the political rallies and euro zone negotiations is calm detachment. According to Robertson and Bowlby’s attachment theory Greece has come to the third stage of ambivalent attachment, a survival stage that avoids any further emotional investment and the pain that accompanies disappointment.

Is Greece ready to embrace a new drachma. According to Bowlby, Robertson and even Naomi Klein’s Shock Doctrine, Greece is neither ready nor resistance to anything any more and those who feel powerless will just get on with breathing regardless of the flavour of air they are given. 

The one thing I have realised is that for the first time the Greeks have leaders to rally behind and that could just make the difference. 


UPDATE: WHAT WILL GREECE DO AFTER THE GREXIT


Thursday 19 February 2015

Europe needs counselling


Forget game theory, what is going on in Brussels is an acrimonious divorce with Germany playing the stoical male role while Greece is the emotional wife trying to get the best for her kids. The passion has gone and it is a relationship that has been reduced to mere financial dependence, a situation that will be familiar with many frustrated spouses. The eurozone is a dysfunctional family that is in desperate need of reconciliation counselling if it is not to pull itself apart causing generations of bitterness and trauma.


If this divorce goes through, the Fatherland will keep the house and cars.
Twitshot


She just won't listen!
We, especially in northern Europe are are conditioned to rely on the head to make important decisions, logic is good. The financial institutions are playing this role, crunching numbers and coming up with plausible reasons why Greece is being histrionic and unreasonable to expect concessions that might allow the family to flourish as a stable and contented union. Wifey just doesn’t understand the pressure that he is having at work and needs to get on with keeping a thrifty home. But Dad’s work has become an obsession with him and while it was originally intended to be a good source of income to feed and clothe his family, it is now beginning to take the place of the family. He has become so defined by this role that it has blurred all perception of purpose. The Euro is a medium of exchange, a facilitator existing only to service the family unit and yet as it fails to satisfy this purpose it is the family who are made to adapt, it has become the only thing of importance.

In 2011, I had he pleasure to meet the now Belgian finance minister, Johan Van Overtveldt. In his 2011 book The end of the Euro, he points out that the single currency was doomed from the outset as an economic union was foisted on a group of nations that had not established a political union on which to base it. Like a marriage of convenience where the couple had not had adequate time to establish a sound understanding and mutual admiration before deciding that his job prospects were sufficient to base a life long bond. So arrogant have the world’s bankers become that they really feel that money makes the world go round. They expected the common currency to be the leverage in European political unification under the logical auspices of the German banking system. This, as Overveldt predicted is blowing up in their faces now and Greece is being offered up as the unstable mother, unfit to care for her children.

The Fatherland is presenting a face of maturity that casts aside the humanistic aspect of government as folly and whimsy. Their focus is on balance sheets and policy that has been (badly) designed to support a currency system that will eventually condition the population of Europe to serve it. This is an autistic mindset that cannot contemplate the uncountable. We are being expected to side with the validity of this argument as it is irrefutable with logic.

The mother of democracy is harping on about how badly she has been treated and that she cannot support her children. She is not getting the right kind of support from her partner. Yes, he gives her money for the home but it’s how he gives it, the demands he makes on her, the disapproving frowns when she tries to make herself nice, the silence at the dinner table when she serves something a little simpler because she has evening classes. She has a point but her argument can get a little confused with ideas that are less easy to quantify as they are off-balance sheet considerations.

We sympathise with Mum but Dad makes more sense because he is logical.


What is needed is a mediator who can reconcile this difference of language. Yanis Varoufakis is arguing socio-political aspect of the relationship, a strategy for growth while the Eurogroup president Jeroen Dijsselbloem insists on strict adherence to the austerity programme, a financial paring intended to support the medium of exchange at all costs.

Relationships of all kinds are dependent on understanding and evolution. I spoke to psychiatrist, Dr. Alexios Lappas, he said that successful relationships are based on similarities and differences, the prior form the core of shared goals while the differences maintain interest. However, as the responsibilities and strains of routine bite, the interest begins to wane and they regress into survival mode. The differences begin to be viewed as betrayal, by the anxious survival mode mind and they look for endorsement from friends (common ground relationships) who will tend to agree with their friend and support an exit from the relationship. It will not be long before irrevocable differences are cited and the family will split into those on dad’s side and those who support mum.



It is too late to impose a retro-fit political framework to underpin the eurozone’s fiscal policies but if the relationship is to develop through the present crisis it will need to be forward facing. The present negotiations in Brussels is an opportunity for growth but in order for that to happen Dad is going to have to loosen his tie and open himself up to some uncomfortable new feelings.  

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Monday 16 February 2015

Alexis and Yanis are screwed

And it came to pass that in Europe’s darkest hour came forth two horsemen from an ancient land to slay the dragon and free the good and the pious from servitude. These dashing knights held aloft the swords of righteousness and wisdom to hack away at thorn and bracken to bring hope and light. And now deep in the dragon’s lair they fear no evil, for they have been summoned in the hearts of men to right wrongs. We shall all feast on roasted beast, my brothers, before spring blossoms the trees.


Alexis Tsipras and Yanis Varoufakis are these brave knights who bring hope of a renaissance of classic Greek democracy once more unto a world that has lost its way. But irrespective of what happens in Brussels in the coming weeks, they are screwed.


The whole of Europe if not the world is beguiled by these two men who have seemingly sprung from nowhere to take on the might of the Eurozone policy makers (Read: Angela Merkel). Not since Barack Obama’s first campaign in 2008 has a political leader evoked such idolisation, before him it was Tony Blair, delivering a desperate Britain from Thatcherism in 1997. History is littered with similar stories. And, herein lies the problem. Each of these beacons of hope have ultimately disappointed, exposed as flawed men in a near impossible situation (and maybe I’m being kind). 

Alexis Tsipras came from left-wing student activist roots to pull off a democratic coup in the Greek parliament. Despite not managing an overall majority in the house his support has snowballed spreading far beyond national borders to garner support from throughout the austerity-stricken Eurozone. He has vowed not to wear a tie until his mission is complete, a sentiment that his finance minister, Yanis Varoufakis has taken to heart and run with. This is a man who embodies the Greek economic situation; he needs growth, not a haircut, his charismatic presence belies his true stature and he is definitely not dressed for the bank. He has proved to be an inspired choice. An academic Goliath, highly respected by his economist peers, has a penchant for game theory and a dynamic youthful demeanour rarely seen in his position. The two of them have become the Kirk and Spock of modern politics showing up many for the out-of-touch dinosaurs that many believe them to be.

To all intents and purposes though, the Eurozone is Angela’s game, its her ball and she will be captain, she can even decide to adapt the rules should anyone get out of step. Then along come these two upstarts from a cigarette kiosk of a country telling her she’s off-side. The task ahead of them is formidable and the chances of walking away with all they ask is a snowball’s chance in hell.

The real problems begin when they get back home. Let’s say that they get the majority of what they ask for. Which, if you follow Varoufakis is not a haircut but a restructuring of debts, something akin to consolidating all your credit cards into one low interest loan with a manageable payment plan. But what they really want is to be freed from the conditions of the loan, the austerity measures that have forced Greece's economy to shrink a 1/4 in the last few years and the selling off of public assets to foreign investors. This is the real bone of contention. For while Greece has been forced to take loans to pay the loans which pay the interest, the economy has had its laces tied together by a series of cuts that have forced anorexic shrinkage of an already troubled economy. If they get all this then they have to make it work and be seen to work and that means that people are going to have to magically pop back into full employment, debts accrued during the last years will have to go away and taxes will have to return to being an avoidable nuisance. Things will have to go back to the good ole days (during which everyone would tell you they had never been so bad) things will have to be right for everyone and they won’t.

They have promised to reinstate public employees who were sacked over the last government's term. this is part of what put an unsustainable burden on Greece's resources in the first place and had come about due to successive governments trading votes for jobs. Its result was a public sector bloated with the wrong, unqualified people who didn't give a jot about solving your problem because they had tenure. They have also vowed reopen the state TV and Radio channel ERT, a popular move but will need to be well-managed if it isn't to fall back into the habits of its public sector peers. These are expensive promises, though and neither of them are growth catalysts.

So much is being expected of these two men that there is no way that they won’t disappoint. The best that can be expected is for them to return from Brussels with their dignity and integrity intact carrying the means to create an environment where businesses can begin to build on stable ground. There is still a lot of hard work and sacrifice ahead but what many are going to have to digest is that it will not be only Tsipras’ and Varoufakis’ hard work and sacrifice but their own. They can only do so much and there is still so much domestic reform that needs to take place before the benefits of the concessions that can realistically be expected can take hold.

There will be a backlash. Not only from the Greek people, but all the other nations watching closely to Greece for sign of light at the end of the austerity tunnel. When things do not work out as they hoped or as they chose to believe that T & V had told them. They will cast aside Tsipras and Varoufakis in a wave of told-you-so wisdom. Such is the fickle nature of the people. This will allow the next wave of cure-all promises from whoever has the public ear.

The world has taken these two men to their hearts at a very vulnerable phase in its history. Expectation will be unrealistically high. I hope you have factored this into your game plan, Yanis. 


UPDATE: After more final hours and more renegotiations and more broken promises, the general consensus is getting closer to just roll over and let it happen, already. People are tired and I feel that they are ready to vote back the old order if only to let the screwing be done and lubricate appropriately.
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Tuesday 20 January 2015

Episode 23: Purged by fire

'From Under Dark Clouds...' is a Gonzo fictionalisation of current events in Greece as seen through the eyes of our unnamed hero as he fumbles from paranoia to public office, under the mentorage of the shady Socrates.



Tax on Fire
All Tax Arrears will be expunged

It was on all the channels, all day. Scenes of flames licking at the clear night sky, filling it with grey smoke. Firefighters had the block surrounded, but if you asked me it didn’t look like they were putting their backs into it. The newsreaders seemed to be hiding their mirth, desperate to keep up the appearance of toeing the party line. Crowds were gathering like Beatles tickets had just gone on sale and the riot squad were tooled up and ready to extinguish any outbreaks of euphoria. The concrete block that housed the tax department was being purged, dear blogees and paper ash fell like snow at Christmas.


I pulled the door behind me to the sound of dinnerware colliding with the table and my shrilled name. I stopped in guilt seasoned with fear and a slice of chilling realisation. I unclunked the door and casually strolled back into the house with a smile that was the yang-opposite of the wife’s. I kissed her firmly on the mouth and told her I loved her and wouldn't be late (guilt). I necked a glass of wine sitting next to my dinner plate (fear) and grabbed the Vespa keys from the rack (realisation). Then I headed back to the door, trying to ignore the barrage that followed me, not because I am oversensitive but more because I found it quite difficult not to imagine some of the things the wife was suggesting. This one was actually giving me a backache. I peeked through a crack in the doorway and blew a kiss. A warm bread roll narrowly missed my eye.

Mike the IT guy was already downtown but weaving my Vespa through the crowds was not going to be easy. People were spilling onto the streets like it was one of those big football championships where we actually had a chance of winning.

Ground zero was inside a ring of police and armoured cars just waiting for things to get messy and Mike was inside. Walkie-talkies bibbled and squawked all around me. The air was thick with smoke, jubilation and testosterone. I parked the Vespa out of harms way in a little side street and looked for an unguarded alley to slip through. Nothing. Remembering that I was actually an elected official I bowled up to the cordon and offered my credentials, well I offered them but had forgotten to actually have them with me. The officer called for a superior. The superior looked me up and down and asked who I was.

I'm the mayor of—” He looked me up and down again and ordered the subordinate officer to tell me to fuck off. He followed this order with fervour and I fucked off with my tail between my legs. Should have brought the wife.

It wasn't long before the problem was solved; Mike was ejected through a gap in the cordon. He fought off the heavy hand of the law while still managing to grip his phone to his ear.

“Fascist pigs!” in one direction. “Sweeet!” to the phone.
He saw me and ran with eyes like whirligigs.
“Quick, we gotta find a TV!”

We found one soon enough. Every cafe and bar with a big-screen TV had turned it onto the street. This was New Years Eve in the summer but there was no one was singing Auld Lang Syne. I ordered a couple of tax-free beers. Mike kept urging me to pay attention to the screen. Talking heads were soberly discussing the implications. They were not expecting any casualties. Of course! it was Saturday night and the nice people in the tax department wouldn’t dream of hanging around much after they pulled down the shutters on a queue still clutching unstamped forms on a Friday afternoon. The offices were in the middle of a run-down light-industrial area of the city, so homes were not in danger, that said, a couple of adjacent brothels had been evacuated which gave the news team some nice scenes of guilty Johns with shirts pulled over their heads and scantily-clad working girls spilling onto the smoke-filled street. The beer arrived and I ordered some chasers. Mike looked up from his phone and tugged my arm, nearly spilling the beers.

“Any second now,” he whispered.

A distance siren was echoed on the screen as the newscaster interrupted some blathering pundits to go to a live feed of police and firefighters panicking. Security services have gone to red alert as fire breaks out at two more regional tax collection offices!

Mike clinked my glass and smiled. “No more paper trail!”

I really should have understood what Mike meant by that but I was too busy trying to balance all the glasses I was holding. He started dancing a jig and the whole crowd joined in. The police were beginning to make their presence know and I must confess this made me nervous. My face had only just healed from the last time I enjoyed their hospitality. Mike was oblivious, dancing and singing. A chant had begun that made me particularly nervous.

Build a bonfire, Build a bonfire
Put the taxman on the top
Put the coppers in the middle
And burn the fucking lot!

I drained a couple of glasses which not only freed up my hands but eased my uneasiness. This was going to get ugly and I didn't have much beauty left to lose.

I was so frightened that my phone began to quiver in my pocket. Then I realised that it did that when someone was calling. I rested the remaining glass and retrieved the vibrating article from my pocket, the screen said it was Socrates; shit!

“I didn't do it!” I answered.

The voice on the other end paused and replied in a qualified tone. “I know, son.”


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Monday 19 January 2015

A more logical choice on you ballot paper


Elections are coming to a town near you, your democratic right to choose your county’s direction. To choose how it treats you and your neighbours, how it will defend sovereignty, how it will care for the sick and defenceless, how it will educate your children. This is something that we are told time and time again, in the democratic west, is what separates us from our non-freedom-loving enemies. This is what we have fought and died for and yet ask your neighbours and colleagues how they will exercise this power and I guarantee that most will shrug in exasperation. The fact is that democracy is failing and we need another choice on our ballot papers. Not another radical party who will promise to undo the wrongs of the previous government. Not a woman candidate or someone from an ethnic or sexual-orientation minority because the fact remains that whoever you vote for will be a politician.

So here’s the dilemma 

You don’t agree with what the government is doing, so you want them out. You don’t really agree with what the opposition are saying but you know that a vote for them will oust the present ruling part. You could vote for one of the minors like the Greens, who you know are well-intentioned tree-huggers but despite the feeling that you have registered a ‘protest vote’ you know they won’t get in and one of the top two will. You could also just abstain and sulk. This is probably the most realistically productive course of action that we have at our disposal. You can rest assured that whatever happens during the government’s term, it was not sanctioned by you and that you were in no way responsible for any smugness of the minor parties for increased public support.

The present system of electoral democracy is as democratic as facebook or google’s terms of service; we want the free app or service and happily click through the ‘I ACCEPT’ buttons, knowing full well that we are negating our most basic human rights. We know that they will abuse our information, we know they will bombard us with ‘personalised’ messages. We know, yet we do it anyway. In the end, as we are so often told, we get what we deserve.

I propose that an addition be made to every ballot paper from now on that would effectively reinstate democracy into elections. A choice that would give a constitutional voice to what everyone really feels; a vote of no confidence in the party political system. 

 NO CONFIDENCE IN THE PARTY POLITICAL SYSTEM

Once this option gained constitutional democratic support the whole political champions’ league could be restructured in a way that actually served the electorate. We vote for parties based on their manifesto, a collection of promised in exchange for your vote but their is no contract and no recourse if they renege on these promises. We simply have to wait for the next round of elections when we choose another bunch on their promises. Millions vote for X Factor et al but we can't employ this technology to keep our representatives on their toes.   

Greece is in throws of flash elections ignited by a political coup orchestrated by Alexis Tsipras’s SYRIZA party. This left-wing party that was until recently just another ‘also-ran’ but it is now considered by many to be NOT a matter of IF but by how much he will win. The Guardian labelled the charismatic leader a ‘FIREBRAND’ and the markets are getting their knickers in a twist over the GREXIT again. Most want an end to the AUSTERITY measures, which are doing nothing to pull Greece out of debt. However, while they may vote for SYRIZA the vast majority of voters I have spoken to have very little faith that he will deliver on many, if any of his promises. They have become accustomed to hearing rambling rhetoric and having smoke blown up their collective arse.

They have become accustomed to hearing rambling rhetoric and having smoke blown up their collective arse.

In the UK, Russell Brand, a verbose comedian has been urging people not to vote. He admitted that he had never voted and wouldn't until there was change. Al Murray, yet another comedian is standing against Nigel Farage and while he is encouraging the use of our democratic right, they are both saying the same thing; there has to be a better way.

There has to be a better way.

Millions upon millions are spent on election campaigns. Public opinion is carefully courted. Smear campaigns are routinely employed to gain a leg-up on the opposition but after the finally count we are back to square one. The political machine continues to grind and we get a new face playing the same old game.

To be able to call a vote of no confidence would be a fundamentally new choice for the electorate but one that has been available to our representatives since democracy began. The game needs to be changed in favour of those it exists to serve. Come election day you may be confronted by a plethora of choices but don’t be fooled. To be lost for choice doesn't mean you haven’t lost your choice.

To be lost for choice doesn't mean you haven’t lost your choice.

BTW: If you were to hand-write this on your voting form it would count as a defaced vote and ignored.

Friday 12 December 2014

Why Austerity IS Working


Ok, let’s start with a revelation. Austerity doesn’t work, that’s a no-brainer. Economists have been saying this for centuries and anyone living at the thin edge of the wedge in Europe will be living its failure. Incomes have been slashed, debts become unmanageable and few see any sign of improvement on the horizon. The amount of people without any health insurance is at an unprecedented high and the government telling us the same old story.


We must help bail out an economy that we were complicit in scuppering. 

Twitshot
retail wrecklessness
Oh! those heady days
Austerity purports to tackle the world recession caused by credit-happy shoppers like you and me consuming beyond our means. It is sold on the micro-economic understanding that if a household cuts spending on non-essentials for a while it can pay off its debts thus reducing expenditure and bring its outgoings below income. It is the credit-binge hangover that we are told we all need to take responsibility for. The belief is that by cutting back on the state’s expenditure and increasing taxation they will be able to wrestle the public debt back to a manageable level where we can all breathe a sigh of relief and get back to business as usual. This is not happening. The lack of investment is causing widespread unemployment and even more widespread underemployment. This in turn, is making it more difficult for the government to collect taxes while simultaneously putting increased pressure on social benefit systems. The result is that while we are paying and suffering for our sins.


That said, unless you have had your TV repossessed and your Internet cut, we all know that that is just a tiny piece of the story. Due to systematic deregulation of the markets by governments giving more power over sovereign currencies than the national banks themselves, they went ape-shit inventing new and more toxic ways to make profit from the movement of capital (read debt). Their abuse of their new-found freedom with currencies made them a systemic risk to national economies and thus “too big to fail”. And so, their private debts, far larger than any kitchen refit or big-screen TV have been transferred to the public balance sheet. However, yet again we are reminded that these same banks loaned us money and helped us buy our beautiful houses that cost more than we could earn in ten years plus interest. So, once again we are complicit. Incidentally, these houses could not have reached such prices were it not for the freely available credit in the market. We are also told that if we did let these banks loose, we would be in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and would die a horrible death. Tell that to the Icelanders.  

Maybe we are all looking at the problem from the wrong angle. 

Let’s consider firstly that this strategy was not implemented by my mum, it was devised by some of the most proficient macro-economists on the planet with access to the studies of the greatest economists of history from Adam Smith through Locke to Keynes and Hayek. They also had great social experiments such as Soviet Russia, Hitler’s Germany, New Deal USA, Thatcher’s Britain and more recently Iceland. In fact, to give any credence to the “Ooops!” factor would be to believe that the people running the world economy are less competent than my Mum when baking a pie. No, austerity is working if you consider that

Its goals may have very little to do with relieving public debt. 

The economy at the centre of the euro-zone and one of the main architects of the current austerity strategy, the German has become strong due to exports. It has learnt that you become powerful by making stuff and selling it to the world. It was busy during the credit-binge selling the world and those naughty Greeks Mercedes, BMWs and Volkswagens, helping them to get in debt. It has worked hard to build a reputation for reliability and prestige and most of us will make a b-line for a German product from stationary to power-tools to supercars, given the choice. But, on the world stage they cannot support the whole of the euro-zone with their premium commodities. They have diversified, buying Skoda and other budget brands but this is not enough. If the EU is to be successful in the world economy. 

It needs to make impact in the mass consumptions markets. 

Depression
Discount dignity
In order for the Euro-zone to compete with the huge production centres of China, India and the Far East, they need one more element. Traditionally, in order for a nation to increase the mass saleability of its exports it has devalued its currency making its products cheaper and more attractive. This is not so easy in the Euro-zone, not to mention the fact that when one currency does it so do others igniting a currency war with all currencies finding a similar equilibrium to where it started. There is one other factor which will allow this relative price index for exports; cheap labour. And it is here that austerity is doing the business. The highly educated, highly skilled workforce of Europe is now on sale. But in order to truly compete they will have to get a little cheaper. 

Austerity is working. 

It is producing a more cost-effective workforce by lowering the expectations of this and generations to come.  This is not a conspiracy theory, it is a business plan. My conclusions are based on the evidence that we are living and take into consideration the business model of the central economy of the Eurozone. If it was a company, it would need to position its product line in the open market. Seeing as the premium market is not large enough to support the 350 million people of the EU, it would definitely need to reposition, at least some of is portfolio to high-volume markets.  

In my next article I'll explore the next step of a strategy that could put Europe back at the centre of world production and how the current fall in oil prices could be the lever to expand the Eurozone.
       
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Wednesday 3 December 2014

Episode 22: Seeing the Big Picture


From under dark clouds
From Under Dark Clouds
'From Under Dark Clouds...' is a Gonzo fictionalisation of current events in Greece as seen through the eyes of our unnamed hero as he fumbles from paranoia to public office, under the mentorage of the shady Socrates.


I can’t say I understood what I saw on the screen but I sat mesmerised, dear blogees. Mike put his arm round my shoulder, stoked to be able to share this revelation with someone who really cared. We locked each other in a hearty bro-hug.

“So, I can do my tax declaration online now?”
Mike visibly deflated and shook his head woefully. What we were looking at was the tax department’s files. This is where they calculate what they they will make us pay at the end of the year and we could change that for anyone. We began looking through the files on people we knew shaving a few euros from those we liked and adding a few to those we didn’t.
I stopped the game, “Don’t they have paper files on all these people?”
Mike stopped, “Yeah, sure they do, but who reads them?”
I pointed out that they may start reading them if they had a problem, if people started to complain. Who would complain about paying less tax? People never think they’re paying too little and when they submit paper that doesn’t reconcile, they’ll start following the paper. Not to mention the tax inspectors looking for a backhander. They were always looking for someone to put the screws on and they were old-school. This made him think.
I told him to go into the Spyros the supermarketeer’s file. His total owed was enough to run town hall for months. His list of assets, apartments, land, businesses. I looked to Mike incredulously.
“He made all this from coffee and corn flakes?” I asked.
He looked at me and smiled at my naivety. I put the question again. I didn’t really expect an answer, I just couldn’t believe that such a miserable man could have all this and still complain when I didn’t have change at the till. But, I had made a deal with him and Mike now had a roof over his head. We shaved a sum that would have paid Mike’s salary for at least six months, still leaving a fairly hefty contribution to the city’s coffers.
Mike pulled out a half-drunk bottle of scotch and two glasses. “I think some celebration is in order!”
I shrugged and made my leave. I would have loved a drink and with Mike, one of my favourite people right now but I wanted to be back home.
The wife was asleep but her warm snoring body was uncomplicated and comforting.
The next day, I set about my obligations. Meeting with some people of importance from central government. I made a point about our staff wages. There was no funding and our credit line had dried up, if I wanted to pay them I would need to find money from other sectors, maybe schools or the health centre. Essential work on infrastructure was still long overdue. The water was leaking into the streets in some areas and a motorcyclist had ended up in the emergency ward after hitting an enormous pot hole that had opened on the high street. I should put more pressure on those who owed local taxes. I reminded them that they were being collected by central and the electricity company now, bypassing my office. This evoked a shrug and I was told to look at the big picture. I was trying, but the pixels just kept getting in the way.
I rode my Vespa from a car park full of cars, all shiny and German. The rest of the afternoon was spent signing pieces of paper before they went to be stamped. I did, however learn that some more of the residents of the basement had moved into Spiro’s apartments to make a home, however temporary. This was the highlight.
I hadn’t spent any time with Socrates in ages and I needed his stoic council. He had got me into this and I had never needed him more. The waiter came to our table and he ordered for both of us but I had to tell the waiter to simply bring me a coffee. Socrates looked visibly shocked. The doctor had me on some medication that didn’t play well with booze and I simply didn’t need my wife and kids finding me dumped out of the door of a cab again. I was a new man, at least that was my ambition.
I told Socrates about the tragic state of the town hall with its staff living in the basement and no money for their salaries. He ummed and ahhed, occasionally looking over his glasses from some papers he was reading.
“They told me to take it out of the school’s budget!”
His reply was an exhaled SO. I was not getting through to him. I needed help from the only man I trusted to give me advice and he was too preoccupied with whatever it was that held his attention. I needed to shock him into listening. I told him about hacking into the tax department. He looked up and held me in his gaze, he had scared the living crap out of me with this look before but at least I knew I had his attention. I told him about the deal with Spyros the supermarketeer, which met with a Hmm of approval. I told him I knew it was wrong but I had no other options. He rocked his head and the corners of his mouth lifted a little.
“How did it work for you?” Socrates asked.
I told him that it had worked very well, surprisingly well but would not have been necessary if we had proper funding, not to mention that the thieving bastard had more money than God. His tax bill alone could have paid a good number of my staff.
Socrates’s glasses dropped down his nose, almost on purpose so his greying blue eyes could hold me unhindered. “You know what? You lack vision.”
I stuttered, something had changed since we had last met, he was no longer the grumpy old grandpa figure, in fact he appeared younger, more vital. I floundered for a riposte, but none came.
“You need to see the big picture, son.”
I wanted to tell him about pixels and definition and clarity and shit. All I could say was something about the staff, something recycled that didn’t need fresh thought.
“Things will have to get much worse, my boy. If they are to change at all.”
I sipped my coffee wishing it to be Irish and me to be elsewhere. He pulled the folder that had kept his attention throughout our conversation, placed it on the table and slid it toward me. I opened it. It was a list of names and dates and numbers each followed by a sum of money.
“You will give this to our man Micheal, he will know what to do with it.” He said.
I asked if they were more favours. Socrates told me that they were. I smiled, there was a lot of favours here, enough to do some real good work. Not just for the staff but for the town as a whole. I shared this thought with Socrates.
“Things must get much worse before anything can change,” he said before leaving me with the bill.



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Tuesday 4 November 2014

Episode 21: Down but not out


From under dark clouds
From Under Dark Clouds
'From Under Dark Clouds...' is a Gonzo fictionalisation of current events in Greece as seen through the eyes of our unnamed hero as he fumbles from paranoia to public office, under the mentorage of the shady Socrates.

Each episode is based on real events. Readers are invited to share their experiences for the Under Dark Clouds treatment. Many have been included in cameo roles.


See link below for contributions


My face was still smarting from the slap but it didn't curb my enthusiasm, dear blogees. My motto is if you don’t do it, it doesn't get done! And if it wasn't, it would be from now on. Apparently, as the mayor, my jurisdiction did not include or get anywhere close to matters of taxation. I had made false promises to Spyros the supermarket and my arse would get bitten but these were mere details in a plan of such righteous scale that they barely warranted a second thought, were it not for my face. The well-assembled secretary picked up the phone and told me, yes told me to call the supermarketer and tell him the truth. She turned to dial the number and it came upon me to slap her arse. My hand made a paddle and began to swing when I remembered all the ruckus at the BBC and I had no time in my schedule to be the next Dave Lee Travis. I told her instead to call a meeting of all the homeless employees of the town hall. She huffed and complied. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the sign of a true leader.

I chose the conference room for the meeting, this time. Mike the IT guy and Tasos the janitor were already there and I arrived with my secretary in tow. The room began to fill, anything to get away from their desks.

I took the stage and cleared my throat. “I have some good news,” I smiled. I cleared my throat again, a little louder this time and repeated myself.  

“The mayor would like to tell you about when you’ll get paid,” Mike the IT guy said. The room went silent.

I thanked Mike, then became momentarily distracted by my secretary’s heaving bosom, not noticing her tightly pursed lips. She was staring holes in the back of Mike’s head. I prised my eyes away from her bosom just before she noticed me looking, she gently swung her head left and right.

“Yes, of course, ladies and gentlemen. But more about that after.” After I found out where Mike intended to squeeze hundreds of thousands of euros of back pay from a bankrupt town council that hadn't paid some of its staff for nearly a year. We had been financed by promises and rhetoric from central government for so long we had stopped asking. “First, I have some fantastic news about housing.”

One of the gathered lifted his head, his face still bruised from our last run-in with the police’s special forces. “Just tell us when we’re gettin' paid, will ya!” the room began to nod in unison and the mumbling began again.

“I’ll get to that in a moment, just bear with me and I’ll answer all your questions. Now I've managed to…” the room began to empty.

Soon the room echoed with silence. Just Despina stood before me with an awkward smile, she looked behind her as the door closed.

I looked to Tasos and Mike who looked to each other. I turned to Despina. “You and your boy will have a new home today, Despina.” She smiled a thank-you and asked to leave, then stopped. “We won’t get beaten out by the police again, will we, sir?”

I looked her in the eyes and swore that things would be better soon. She dropped her head and left. Mike turned to Tasos and swung his head toward the door. They left together.

It was just me and the well-assembled secretary in the big room. “I do hope you know what you’re doing,” she said and swaggered out of the room. I didn't and she knew that better than I.

That night, I tossed restlessly in a warm bed, with a warm wife, my sons gently snoring in the next room. Mike, Tasos, Despina and her young son were safe in the supermarketers apartments, but for how long.

The sun finally rose signalling the start of another cycle of life. I headed off the wife’s alarm and readied the kids for school myself. I poured milk over cereal, put things between bread and took them to learn numbers and letters.

I was last into the office but no coffee waited for me and only Despina wished me a good morning. I spent the day watching the hour hand drag its arse round the clock face. Spyros the supermarketer called a number of times and was told each time that I was unavailable. Somebody from central government called then rang my mobile racking up a list of red entries in my call history. In fact the only person I did speak to was from the mobile company trying to sell me some new package and she hung up on me.

At the end of the day I waited, respectfully for the offices to empty and clocked off. Back home where I had less scope to cause calamity or where expectations were so much lower.

I was thrusting a foamy toothbrush round my mouth when the phone rang, it was Mike. He apologised profusely for his absence that day but told me that I had to come over and see what he had found. I told him I’d see him the next morning but he insisted and I relented.

His eyes were on fire as he opened the door of his new apartment in Spyros’s block. I looked around the room, he had already made the place into a teenagers’ bedroom. He ushered me to the monitor propped up on some vegetable crates.

“It was easy,” he said. “The encryption and firewalls were a doddle. I just had to route through the TOR network so it couldn't be traced.” I stared at the grey boxes filled with numbers and other gibberish. He started changing the numbers in the boxes and pressing the update data button, then he looked at me. I stared at the screen. “It’s official and no one can trace it back.” I stared at the screen. “Don’t you see?” I didn't.

My expression barely changed when It did, from stupid to stupefied but I did realise what we had uncovered.





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