MEANNESS AT ST MARTIN'S, TRAFALGAR SQUARE

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To whom it may concern
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It was only yesterday that I happened to pass St Martin's, had time, and took the lift to look at the new crypt. Beautiful. Wonderful spaces, lovely architecture, a shaft of sunlight coming down through the lightshaft, wondrous. I only then discovered that there were TWO FLOORS BELOW GROUND, with a lovely meeting room, seen through windows, below. I looked for the lift to go down, and couldnt find one, saw only a wheelchair lift. AND IT SLOWLY DAWNED ON ME THAT THAT LIFT I HAD COME DOWN ON SERVED ONLY THE UPPER LEVEL OF THE NEW DEVELOPMENT, DIDNT GO DOWN TO THE LOWER FLOOR, WHICH THE PUBLIC WOULD ALSO BE USING, AND I WAS ABSOLUTELY SHATTERED AT THE UNBELIEVABLE MEANNNESS, TO HAVE ECONOMIZED ON THIS IMPORTANT DETAIL: IT TOOK MY BREATH AWAY
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I think it is shameful to turn in such a faulted job, to spoil the (exquisite) ship for a ha'pworth of tar. No doubt some high moral principle will be cited, but I regard it as simply shoddy.
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Peter Zander

DEFINITION OF MY IDENTITY

Howard Spier 30 September 2010

Executive Editor

AJR Journal

Association of Jewish Refugees

Jubilee House, Merrion Avenue

Stanmore

Middlesex HA7 4RL

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Dear Howard

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DEFINITION OF MY IDENTITY

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I spent a little time on my New Pocket Oxford Dictionary, wondering how to accurately define myself.

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Started with 'exile: 'the state of being barred from one's native country.' Well, I didnt start barred, was taken by my parents in 1933 from Berlin to Welwyn Garden City, and I suppose I sort of 'became and stayed' exiled sometime between then and the end of the war, when I again ceased to be an exile, or at least remained a voluntary one.

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'Banished'? with the 'ed' sounded a la Shakespeare: '1) make (someone) leave a place, especially as an official punishment. 2) get rid of; drive away.' Again, fits only partially because we went voluntarily.

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'Emigrant: a person who emigrates. emigrate: leave one's own country in order to settle permanently in another.' That fits. Though the thought at one point occurred to my mother to return to her beloved Berlin.

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'Immigrant: a person who comes to live permanently in a foreign country.' That's me.

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'Refugee: a person who has been forced to leave their country because of a war or because they are being persecuted for their beliefs.' Well, if fits roughly. I wasnt exactly forced, so early on in the dictatorship, but it was hinted. And it wasnt exactly because of my beliefs, but rather because of my origins.

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Holocaust survivor. 'holocaust: destruction or slaughter on a massive scale.' That applies. 'The Holocaust: the mass murder of Jews under the German Nazi regime in World War II.' 'survivor: a person who has survived.' That applies. I have survived the holocaust. My father, my mother, and I, escaped before it got really nasty. Perhaps I am an escapee, an escaper, both in the dictionary. All honour to concentration camp survivors. I know one such. Rosy. A remarkable lady who lives in Paris. She is special.

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Yours

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Peter

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To explain. Two eternal themes run through the articles and letter pages of the AJR Journal: Is one, after 77 years, still a refugee? I maintain that one is, that I am: once a refugee, always a refugee. That's how one came to this country. That's the door through which one entered. That defines one. The Journal, on the other hand, now always prefixes the term refugee with an 'ex': In its aim at its version of political correctness it refers only and always to 'ex-refugees', as if one can discard the reason and process by which one arrived at Liverpool Street station on 5 October 1933, and can become indigenous, like landed gentry, a, to my mind, completely false logic.

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The other theme is the apparent need to grade refugees into those who suffered, and survived, concentration camp, and only these are allowed to call themselves Holocaust survivors; and those who didn’t, and aren’t allowed to call themselves Holocaust survivors. I find this unappetising. Comparisons are odorous! How can I compare my coming over to England as a child, with my mother, my father already being here to reconnoitre the new country, our leaving Germany long before the real insults, degradation, persecution, torture and killing had got started, with the unimaginable suffering of Rosy??? Impossible. And etymologically irrelevant.

Marshall Street Leisure Centre, Hurrah!

The Editor

West End Extra

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Dear Sir
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The Marshall Streeet Leisure Centre
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Heard from a neighbour that the Marshall Street baths, now the Marshall Street Leisure Centre, were open again. It's taken the Westminster City Council 10 years to achieve that! Hurrah! Went with my Freedom Pass and telephone bill with my Soho address on it to join. Rounded the corner of Broadwick Street, saw the big blue poster erected on the ground just beyond the entrance to the Baths. Took no notice of it, as it had a large arrrow on it pointing to the other side of the road. Tried the two old front entrance doors of the baths, the first was locked, the second opened, but appeared to be an office, and I was told that the entrance was now where the poster was. I thought architects were supposed to show one clearly where the hole was for one to enter a building. I went through this narrow door into a small vestibule, to learn that my Freedom Pass gave me free access to the baths. Excellent. But what a pity that the old Foyer is used as an office, and that all the swimmers and all the health fiends have to use this narrow side entrance to this tiny vestibule. Commercial meannness meets bureaucratic stupidity. First impressions bad.
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Yours sincerely
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Peter Zander

Obermayer German Jewish History Awards

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PETER ZANDER

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14 August 2010

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Obermayer German Jewish History Awards

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The Obermayer German Jewish History Award is given annually to individuals who have made outstanding voluntary contributions toward preserving and recording the Jewish history, heritage, culture and/or remnants of local German communities. I am one of three Berliners who have been requested by Frau Gudrun Blankenburg, Stadtfuehrerin, Berlin Tourist Guide, to nominate, for this year’s award, the 800 pupils, the senior classes of the Loecknitz-Grundschule, a primary school in Berlin Schoeneberg, who have, over a period of 7 years, built a memorial wall to commemorate the Jewish neighbours killed by the Nazis.

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11 August 2010

Obermayer Foundation
239 Chestnut Street
West Newton, MA 02465-2931
obermayer@alum.mit.edu

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Obermayer German Jewish History Awards

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NOMINEE:

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Die Schülerinnen und Schüler aller 6. Klassen der Löcknitz-Grundschule in Berlin Tempelhof-Schöneberg, die seit 1994 ununterbrochen ein einmaliges und eindringliches Denk-Mal für die ermordeten jüdischen Menschen gesetzt haben, die früher Nachbarn der Schule waren und von der Nazi-Diktatur ermordet worden sind.

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Löcknitz-Grundschule

Berchtesgadener Str. 10-11

10779 Berlin Schöneberg

T.: 030-90277-7164

F.: 030-90277-4315

loecknitz-grundschule@t-online.de

www.loecknitz-grundschule.de

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NOMINATOR:

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Peter Zander

22 Romilly Street

London W1D 5AG

United Kingdom

Telephone + 44 (0) 20 7437 4767

U K Mobile + 44 (0) 79 20 12 55 09

peterzan.berlin@virgin.net

http://peterzan.blogspot.com

SUMMARY OF NOMINEES’ ACTIVITIES

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Seit 1994 bauen die Schülerinnen und Schüler der jeweiligen 6. Klasse der Löcknitz-Grundschule in Berlin Tempelhof-Schöneberg, jedes Jahr an einem Denk-Mal, einer Gedenk-Mauer aus gelben Backsteinen. Jeder Backstein ist einem von der Nazi-Diktatur ermordeten jüdischen Menschen der Nachbarschaft gewidmet, und traegt ihren oder seinen Namen, sowie ihr oder sein Geburtsdatum, und auch das Todesdatum und den Ort des Todes, Auschwitz, Riga, Theresienstadt usw. Es sind derer schon 800...

800 Steine. 800 Schueler.

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Vielleicht hatte der juedische Mensch in der selben Wohnung wie die Schuelerin oder der Schueler gewohnt; vielleicht hatte er den gleichen Geburtstag wie der Schueler; vielleicht waren es die Eltern eines Schuelers der Schule die umgebracht wurden... So kundschaften die Schueler aus, was in ihrem Haus, was in ihrem Kietz, was in Berlin, was in Deutschland, was in Europa, zu der Zeit Grausames und Graessliches passiert ist, und setzen ein Erinnerungszeichen denen, die ausgesetzt, gepeinigt, getoetet wurden. Sie verfolgen das Schicksal einer Person, zeichnen deren Namen und Details schwarz auf einen Backstein. Dieser Backstein wird praepariert, sodas die Schrift nicht verwischt, und wird zu einer Pyramide aufgestapelt, bis alle Backsteine des Jahres in die Mauer eingemauert werden. Die viele Meter lange Mauer, vielleicht 1 ½ Meter hoch, steht auf dem Schulhof, wo Schueler, Lehrer, Eltern, Besucher, Touristen, Interessentengruppen, Nachfahren der Eltern, der Grosseltern, die umgekommen sind, sie sehen koennen; ein Fragezeichen, eine Metapher, ein Einfluss zum Verstaendnis zwischen den Menschen, ein Lehrmittel, eine Warnung, ein ‘Grab-Stein’ fuer diejenigen, die kein Grab haben, ein ‘Denk-Mal’. Und auch eine Erinnerung an die schoenen Zeiten, in der die juedischen Buerger wesentliche Deutsche Mitbuerger waren, Berliner waren. Die Schule steht auf dem Grundstueck einer Synagogue, was das Projekt untermalt.

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MEIN ERLEBNIS DES PROJEKTS

Ich bin als elf-jaehriger mit meinen Eltern 1933 aus Berlin nach England emigriert. Ich war 1934 Weihnachten mit meiner Mutter auf Besuch wieder in Berlin. 1946-48 war ich wieder in Deutschland, im Britischen Roten Kreuz, als Wohlfahrtsoffizier des Save the Children Fund, die Britische Kinderhilfe, und jede 3 Monate war ich in Berlin, wo mein geliebter Grossonkel Otto Loewi mit seiner arischen Frau Lotte die schlimme Zeit - man gerade - ueberlebt hatte. Danach war ich unregelmaessig immer mal wieder in Berlin. Seit 1985, das heisst in den letzten 25 Jahren, bin ich regelmaessig jedes Weihnachten, und oft auch im Sommer, 2-3 Wochen in Berlin.

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Auch diesen Sommer war ich in Berlin, und wurde von Frau Gudrun Blankenburg, Stadtfuehrerin, eingeladen, zur Loeknitzschule mitzukommen. Ich hatte keine Ahnung was auf mich zukommt. Frau Blankenburg hatte einen Schluessel zum Schulhof, und liess uns drei rein – wir waren mit einem gemeinsamen Freund Hartmut Schulz da. Einige Kinder spielten auf dem Hof. Ich sah diese lange gelbe Mauer; ich sah die einzelnen Schwarz beschriebenen Backsteine, mit den Namen der Toten und ihren Daten und Schicksalen, in verschiedenen kindlichen Handschriften, manche in Suetterlin. Ich war baff, und in Traenen. Hartmut fotografierte die Mauer. Wir gingen die Mauer entlang; ich sah die Pyramide der losen Backsteine, die darauf warteten, in die Mauer miteingebaut zu werden. Was fuer ein fantastisches Projekt! Zur Vergangenheitsbewaeltigung allerseits. Auch meiner. Denn warum komme ich denn immer wieder nach Berlin... Und zur Verstaendigung der verschiedenen Voelker, Rassen, Kulturen. Ein Gedenkwerk in Stein, dass die ermordeten juedischen, deutschen, berliner, Mitbuerger nicht vergessen werden, als Mitbuerger anerkannt werden; dass das Verbrechen, das an ihnen begangen worden ist, als solches gennannt werde. Nie wieder...

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Peter Zander

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-0-

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DU DARFST NICHT MEHR LEBEN

Der erste Schritt der Ausgrenzung der Juden...

Du darfst nicht mehr Klubmitglied sein.

Du darfst nicht mehr in Deinem Stammlokal Kaffee trinken.

Du darfst nicht mehr auf der Bank im Park sitzen.

Du darfst nicht mehr ins Theater, ins Konzert, ins Kino, in die Ausstellung.

Du darfst nicht mehr die oeffentlichen Verkehrsmittel benutzen.

Du darfst kein Geschaeft mehr leiten.

Du darfst nicht mehr unsereinen heiraten

Oder ficken.

Du darfst nicht mehr leben.

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Das Gedicht ergab sich aus meiner Geschichte von Adolf Hain und dem Verein Seglerhaus am Wannsee , VSaW. 18 3 9

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YOU ARE NO LONGER PERMITTED TO LIVE

The first step in the exclusion of the Jews…

You are no longer permitted to be a member of the club.

You are no longer permitted to have coffee in your regular café.

You are no longer permitted to sit on the bench in the park.

You are no longer permitted to go to the theatre, to concert, cinema or exhibition.

You are no longer permitted to use public transport facilities.

You are no longer permitted to run a business.

You are no longer permitted to marry any of us,

Or to fuck any of us.

You are no longer permitted to live.

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The poem arose out of my story of Adolf Hain and the Sailing Club on the Wannsee, VSaW.

19 3 9

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C 2009 Peter Zander

BERLIN ENCOUNTERS 23 June - 13 July 2010

I have been in Berlin again, and this time it was even far more exciting than ever. I met a lot of new people through my correspondence and huge coincidences - which only seem to happen in Berlin, not in my mundane existence in Soho!

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Perhaps the most delightful and extraordinary was my meeting with an enchanting authoress, Jenny Erpenbeck. It was arranged by a mutual friend, whom I had completely lost touch with, Cornelia Laufer, at a luxurious picnic in the courtyard of an old apartment house in the East End of Berlin, where she shares studios with two other artists... The wife of a friend of mine, Zhou Rooney, a Chinese medical practitioner, had spoken about my Wannsee lake story of my father's sailing partner Adolf Hain - turned rabid top nazi Bonze, boss of the Verein Seglerhaus am Wannsee (VSaW) sailing club, and of the entire sailing scene around Berlin, who ousted the club’s Jewish members in quick time - to a German patient of hers, Nicola Ebert. Nicola Ebert decided, out of the blue, to send me a novel, actually highly autobiographical, by Jenny Erpenbeck, about the fate of the variously changing occupants of a house on another lake near Berlin, which vividly and dramatically mirrored the nazi, communist and democratic periods. Nicola had moved to Berlin, and invited me for supper, where I met her husband and 3 children and re-met Cornelia Laufer, who knows Jenny Erpenbeck because both their small children go to the same school... Jenny is hoping to write a best-seller, so that she can buy back the house, which had belonged to her grandparents, and so to invite me there!

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Meeting Two. Christmas in Berlin I discovered, in the lovely Berlin shop on the Unter den Linden, a miniature dictionary, the size of a large postage stamp, by the famous Berlin dictionary publishers Langenscheidt - also once members of my father's sailing club! - about the Berlin Jargon. I was amazed that it should have dictionary status! I immediately went to my favourite bookshop Dussmann, Friedrichstrasse, and found a number of slim books on the lingo, and in one of them I discovered that I didnt speak proper German, Hochdeutsch, but that I spoke Berlinsch! I was delighted! I had the true imprint of the Berliner. I'd asked my best friend in Berlin, Pitt, last year why he pronounced the German for cheese, Kaese, with a deep 'a', as in 'mad', and I, on the other hand, ate cheese with the vowel like the English 'day', Kese. He didnt know. And what it is is that he speaks proper German, which always struck me as theatre language, and rather too posh! Well, I wrote to the author, Jan Eik, who was delighted at some of the examples I gave him of the expressions and pronunciations from my childhood, from my parents, and he invited me for a tour of East Berlin - he comes from the Eastern section - and then he invited me to his wooden country cottage just outside Berlin, where I met his wife Angelika and daughter Lilly, and we all went to one of the nearby lakes and swam there in the nude! Last week they happened to be coming to London, and I served tea, Mille Feuilles and Eclairs from Cafe Valerie. This time it was with their grand- daughter, another Lilly...

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Meeting Three. We scattered Berliners get a magazine from the Buergermeister of Berlin 4 times a year, and the editress, Heike Kroeger, has from time to time published things of mine, e g a shortened version of the story of my father's nazi sailing partner Adolf Hain and, recently, the tale of my discovery that I speak Berlinsch. That article led to 12 aged Berliners from all over the world and London, ringing me, writing to me, emailing me, meeting me, one in London, one from America in Berlin, thrilled at the reminder of their origins, their childhood, their Berlin, full of nostalgia... Of course I informed Heike Kroeger of these reactions which, as editress, of course thrilled her, and she invited me for lunch at one of the two swish tennis clubs in Berlin. I wondered which one it would be, the Blau-Weiss or the Rot-Weiss, because... It turned out to be the Blau-Weiss, where her young daughter plays hockey, so that she is allowed to use the restaurant! She isnt allowed to use the swimming pool, that costs extra... In the restaurant, on the terrace, I asked to see Herr Thomas Floeter, the Gastronom, and we spoke about his one-time pupil, my friend Kai Maurer in Tunbridge Wells, who pilots a gyroplane, a mini autogiro, and teaches pilots to fly them, and had come to Berlin for specialist lessons in some manoeuvring techniques not taught in the UK, and his teacher was Herr Floeter, gyroplane pilot trainer - and manager of the restaurant of the Blau-Weiss Tennis Club!

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Meeting Four. I get another magazine from Berlin, by a research institution, Aktive Museum, that delves into the nazi past, and seeks to recognise and honour its victims. There was a long article in it about an island in the Wannsee. Schwanenwerder. An island in the Wannsee? And I thought I knew the Wannsee. I'd never heard of an island. I didnt realise that that bit of coast on the right, as you leave the lake to go along the Havel river, just past the bathing beach, was an island... I learnt that it had been occupied by extremely wealthy, successful, mainly Jewish, store owners, bankers and other business families, until they were dispersed, and Goebbels and other top nazis took over the various properties, and closed the bridge to the general public. Hitler came for coffee, but never lived there, though his officials had planned his stay there. I sent the writer, Christine Fischer-Defoy, a copy of my Wannsee Nazi story, and through this dialogue she suggested that we should have a tour of the short circular road round the island, and study the various houses and their stories. This turned into what I called a school outing, and we were 12 making the tour. There were various officials from the research organisation; there was the director of the Wannsee Konferenz, the house by the Wannsee where the nazis had their conference for the final destruction of the Jews, now a research centre; there was a resident, who lived on the island; and there was me. After the tour a few of us went to one of the sailing clubs by the entrance to the island, by the bridge, and had lunch together out in the open, with a view of the sunny Wannsee and white sails passing. The intention, with the agreement of the present residents, is to erect some form of tablet in front of each house, telling the stories of its changing inhabitants.

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In Brecht's Berliner Ensemble's theatre, the Theater am Schiffbauerdamm, the canteen is used by performers and audiences alike, which is a delight. After the show there one night a year or two back two men joined my long table and we got talking. I must have somehow mentioned that I was taken to the original production of the Weisse Roessl, the White Horse Inn, in 1928, and one of the men, Hartmut Schulz, said, I think I have a spare copy of the programme of that production, I'll send it to you. And he did. And we have become friends. He books seats for us in the BE on the day booking opens, cheaper for pensioners! At Christmas I met a woman friend of Hartmut's, Gudrun Blankenburg, a guide specialising in Berlin's past. We three met in a cafe opposite the first flat that I remember living in, at Hauptstrasse 76, in Friedenau. Waiting in front of the locked street door we got talking to a resident leaving the property, and so we could go upstairs, and I looked through the letter box, and saw my parents' bedroom at the end of the corridor, with my room on the right. The flat was empty. Gudrun took some pictures of me looking up at the balcony (for the next edition of her book on Friedenau) which overlooks Stierstrasse, where our Muckepicke used to stand: My father ran this Opel 'Mini', with which we’d drive up the new Avus motorway and race track to Wannsee, where he shared this sizeable sailing yacht, the fastest of the period as I learnt, with his ‘friend’ Adolf Hain. This summer Hartmut and I again met Gudrun, who took us to the playground of the Loecknitz Primary School in the Bayerische Viertel, where she lives, and showed us a memorial wall, some 20 meters long and 1 ½ meters high. It consists of yellow bricks - 800 of them! - each brick inscribed by a pupil of the senior class of every year since 1994, who had researched a Jewish resident of the district, murdered by the Nazi regime, and recorded on it their name, dates and fate. At the end of the wall were stacked up the bricks of the present senior class, waiting to be incorporated in the wall. The school stands where previously had stood the local synagogue. Gudrun has asked me to nominate all the 800 pupils for a prize of conciliation, awarded annually by the American Obermayer German Jewish History Awards. They deserve it!

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I also conferred with the historian of the VSaW Peter Rieck, over a ‘Berliner Weisse mit, rot’ on the terrace of the sailing club, about the complex history of the club, a sanitized version of which he has written for the forthcoming ‘Festschrift’ to celebrate the 100-year anniversary of the clubhouse. I’m getting a copy. Frank Butzmann, the secretary of the club, told me that all members got a copy, automatically. I said, but I am not a member, I only act as if I were...

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Coming out of my room in the Pension Waizenegger – it is the larder of the old flat in this beautiful yellow Jugendstil house, with its ornamental courtyard and art deco detail – I found Vitali Zilbercher talking to a man, who turned out to be Ralph Stolle, who was directing a film about the Mommsenstrasse Kietz, my neighbourhood. He asked me to participate in it. I star yet again!!! To be shown on the RBB Channel on 14 August 2010 at 1900 hours.

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In my profound concern over the threat that the concert hall of Les Arts Gstaad, the proposed Arts Centre in Gstaad, Switzerland, with which I have been involved for 20 years, may be built without an orchestra pit - an idiocy, as they plan to include performances of ballet, opera and drama on the stage! - I had written to a member of the project's Committee of Patrons, Herr Prof. Dr. Joachim Sartorius, Intendant of the Berliner Festspiele. He is in charge of the dramatic, musical and arts events of the Berlin Festivals. At my suggestion he had written to my friend Markus Kappeler, boss of the Gstaad project, completely backing my recommendation for the inclusion of an orchestra pit in the scheme. He deals with many theatres and halls in Berlin, and stated that all of them have orchestra pits, and that two of them are actually enlarging their orchestra pits, the Volksbuehne and the Schiller Theater. He had received only a completely non-committal and inconclusive reply from Herr Markus J Kappeler!

I went to have a cup of coffee with him in his office before he went on his summer leave. He is hoping to arrange for a meeting in Gstaad of the Committee of Patrons, so that they can put their views forward, and get involved in the decision making, and see to it that Gstaad gets its orchestra pit.

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And I met up with nearly all my old friends; I had two lovely meals with them on the sailing club terrace; in his lovely new flat Gerhard Kastner played for me, a beautiful new work of his for harpsichord, some Bach, and some magical Mozart when he was 6; I went to art exhibition, theatre and opera - a dreadful Fidelio production at the Komische Oper, sheer magic musically; Otello at the Deutsche Oper, with the chorus all lying in 100 bunks 10 stories high round the stage; I heard the Berliner Philharmoniker in the Waldbuehne give a popular concert in this huge amphitheatre, a Volksfest with interval picnics and comedy, with the orchestra standing up before the concert, echoed by the audience standing up, then the orchestra up again... And of course I popped into the KaDeWe, and had refreshment in the rooftop glass conservatory restaurant. My satellite life...

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C Peter Zander 11 August 2010

THIS NATION OF WARRIORS

THIS NATION OF WARRIORS

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1) Trident, “Yes”

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2) A new military Head Quarters at Northwood, at an estimated cost of £150 million, with 42 buildings demolished to build 20 new ones

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3) A memorial pavilion to be built for Bomber Command at a cost of £3.5 million at Green Park, Piccadilly

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4) An £80 million Battle of Britain Memorial at Hendon, with a tower higher than Big Ben

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5) That traffic island at Hyde Park Corner consisting entirely of huge monuments to war, Nelson on his column, and London littered with military sculptures

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6) The military roles of the royal family

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7) The recent musical anniversary celebrations of Peace/Victory in the Albert Hall

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8) Remember the Little Ships of Dunkerque. Remember the Battle of Britain

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9) Iraq

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10) Afghanistan

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11) Postage stamps are being issued to finance a pavilion at a war cemetery

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Indeed, a nation of warriors:

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Nostalgia over memories of past victories and of a heroic defeat.

Engaged in present international battles of questionable validity.

Loins girded to fight as yet unknown enemies everywhere on earth.

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Are these warlike states of mind right for today? Are these policies right, and on the appropriate scale, for a small island nation off the coast of Europe, no longer the world empire?

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And whence these attitudes and policies? Perhaps relics of empire, and trauma of loss of that very empire? Delusions of grandeur? Playing a weighty role in the world far in excess of that warranted, in order to have a seat at the top of the top of the top table?

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And having to pay for that expensive role in very hard cash indeed, cash that is desperately needed for London’s and national transport and other urgent infrastructure, and for educational, medical and welfare services, and for the arts?

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I know, just as an example, of the sophistication of design and function, and of the astronomical cost, of the army's helicopters. And I would hazard the uninformed guess, that this nation would not have to make a single one of the threatened cuts, if we instituted a more peaceful national policy, and one more commensurate with the size of its population.

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Guardian 2 June 2010:

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“ Though some large-scale weapons programmes were cancelled in the latest US budget plans, notably the F22 stealth fighter, more money was earmarked for other projects, including unmanned aerial vehicles (UVAs) and cyberwarfare, said Sipri. (Stockholm International Peace Research Institute)

The British government is likely to follow suit in the forthcoming strategic defence review, though it is expected to make significant cuts in the number of F35 Joint Strike Fighters proposed for the Royal Navy’s two planned large aircraft carriers... Of European countries Britain accounted for the biggest absolute increase (of $3.7bn) followed by Turkey and Russia.”

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So much money spent on death...

29 August 2010

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ps

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I found a historical echo of my theme in an obituary of the historian Tony Judt (1948-2010) in the AJR Journal (Association of Jewish Refugees) of November 2010 by Anthony Grenville:

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" Judt's analysis of Britain after 1945, to take just one example, is engrossing. He begins with the stark fact that Britain emerged from the war insolvent, having lost one quarter of its national wealth and burdened itself with crippling dollar-denominated debt that it struggled for decades to repay. But, as Judt shows, the British people were utterly ignorant of the extent of their national banruptcy, accepting as normal the levels of austerity where the queues, rationing and shortages were almost reminiscent of conditions in the Societ bloc.

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Apparently the British Government shared this ignorance for, in its eagerness to preserve Britain's (largely imaginary) 'place at the top table' , it budgeted £209 million on military expenditure for 1947, as compared to the £6 million spent on all military and diplomatic expenditure in the years 1934-38. Quite what maintaining full naval fleets in the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean as well as the Atlantic, plus a full 'China station', a raft of 120 RAF squadrons worldwide and miltary forces from Hong Kong to Trieste, was supposed to achieve for a bankrupt, middle-sized European nation remains obscure. As a result, Britain was unique in devoting hardly any of the Marschall Plan aid it received to industrial investment or modernisation; 97% of the funds it received went on repaying the country's debts....

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Judt shows how the shoddy, unreliable and overpriced goods produced by Britain's inefficient, strike-ridden industries were unable to compete with the products of West German industry, whose costs were kept down and whose quality was kept up by sustained investment in new and efficient production methods. Britain thus lost the peace almost as comprehensively as it won the war."

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Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose. Helas!

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pps

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20 11 10: I just saw a protest march billboard:

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“CUT WAR NOT WELFARE”

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I'd add:

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“CUT ARMS NOT ARTS”

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and

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“CUT UK MEGALOMANIA NOT MEDICINE"

DIE GESCHICHTE VON “LES ARTS GSTAAD”

Der Konzertsaal, der aus einer Hoehle eines schweizer Bergs kam... . Entstehung Und Verwandlung . Ich moechte eine Geschichte erzaehlen die von dem wundervollen Projekt von LES ARTS GSTAAD handelt. Ich muss sie erzaehlen, weil ich befuerchte, es wird ein wesentlicher, ernster, technischer, praktischer Fehler in dem Konzertsaal gemacht werden, in dem Herzen des Kunstzentrums, und das muss doch vermieden werden: Das so wichtige, und so schoen und fantasievoll konzipierte, Projekt von Rudi Ricciotti – in der Form eines flachen Bergs, aus dessen wellenfoermigen Mauern Baeume wachsen werden, und dessen eine Ecke in den Berg, vor dem er steht, hineinbohrt - muss doch die noetigen Einrichtungen haben fehlerlos zu funktionieren. . Vor ungefaehr 20 Jahren war ich, es muss 1988 oder 1989 gewesen sein, Weihnachten wie immer in meiner Geburtsstadt Berlin, da zeigte mir Wieka Muthesius, damals Architekturstudentin bei Professor Alfred Grazioli, jetzt seine Frau und Kollegin, ihr Studentenprojekt fuer einen Konzertsaal in einer Hoehle im Berg in Gstaad . Ich war ueberwaeltigt von dieser fantastischen Idee, dieser Vision. Ich hielt den Plan sofort, automatisch, fuer reell: Das war fuer mich kein Studentenprojekt, das musste gebaut werden. Wieka, muss ich erklaeren, ist die Stieftochter von Gerhard Kastner, Komponist und Cembalist, und Sohn meines Volksschullehrers in der 18ten Gemeindschule, Friedenau, 1928-1932. Das Jahr in dem ich in die Klasse seines Vaters kam, wurde er geboren... Wir kennen uns also sein ganzes Leben lang... . Nun hatte ich seit vielen Jahren, durch die beste Freundin meiner Mutter, Gerda Van Leer, eine innige Beziehung zu Gstaad. Wir kannten Gerda aus Welwyn Garden City, wo ihr Mann Vim eine Werkstatt, eine Fabrik hatte. Sie hat sich in ihr schoenes schweizer Heimatdorf Gstaad zurueckgezogen, und da haben wir sie oft besucht. So kannte ich auch das Menuhin Festival, kannte das Festival Zelt, mit seinen Problemen, Echo, Regen und Hagel auf dem Stoffdach, Flugzeugmotoren als musikalische Begleitung, und ich dachte immer, dass das Festival, dass Gstaad, ein richtiges Gebaeude fuer ihre grossen Konzerte brauchten, verdienten. . So fragte ich meine Freunde Wieka und Freddy, Professor Grazioli, jedes mal wenn ich in Berlin war, wie das Projekt denn lief, aber die Antwort war jedes mal negatif: Es passierte nichts. Der Konzertsaal blieb nur eine Idee, eine Hoffnung, Zeichnungen... . Im Juli 2001 war ich in Gstaad, und traf mich mit der damaligen Direktorin des Menuhin Festivals, Eleanor Hope, and sprach mit ihr ueber das Projekt. Wir hatten korrespondiert, und sie hatte mir geschrieben: “ How interesting that you have a friend who has a concept and plans for a concert hall and conference centre in a mountain – because this is precisely what Yehudi Menuhin wanted, and to this end he brought in the famous architect I.M.Pei to Gstaad some ten years ago. It came to nought, because no-one was willing to address the subject of money.” . So schlief diese herrliche Idee aus Geldmangel in Gstaad einfach ein. . Aber sie wurde wachgehalten an zwei anderen Orten, einem in Deutschland, und einem in England: Sie wurde wachgehalten in Berlin, von Professor Grazioli, der vor ein paar Jahren nochmal mit einer Gruppe seiner Studenten nach Gstaad kam, und an einer anderen Stelle – das erste Grundstueck war nicht mehr frei - einen Konzertsaal im Berg plante. . Und die Idee wurde wachgehalten in London, Soho. Von mir. . Nun hatte ich den Einfall, dass mein alter Freund Markus Kappeler - die Familie seiner Frau waren Freunde und Nachbarn von Gerda Van Leer - als Geschaeftsmann, mit seinen Interessen und Kontakten in Gstaad, der Mann waere, der diesen Plan realisieren koennte. So sprach ich mit ihm ueber das Projekt. Aber seine Reaktion auf meinen Vorschlag war negatif. Er hielt das Projekt fuer zu gross, zu teuer fuer Gstaad. Gstaad haette nicht genuegend Hotelbetten, haette nicht genuegend Parkplaetze. Und dabei musste ich es lassen... . Einige Zeit spaeter schickte mir Markus eine Mail, und bat mich um die Namen und Adresse von meinen Architektenfreunden in Berlin. Ich war hingerrissen von seiner jetzt veraenderten Einstellung, muss er doch auf positive Resonanz auf das Projekt in den Gstaader Geschaefts, kuenstlerischen und offiziellen Kreisen gestossen sein. . Ich hatte jetzt schon seit Jahren versucht, einen Kontakt herzustellen zwischen meinen Architekten-Freunden Freddy und Wieka in Berlin, und meinem Geschaeftsmann-Freund Markus in Gstaad. Und im Juni 2005 war ich in Gstaad, und hatte endlich die Gelegenheit die beiden Familien zusammenzubringen: Wieka war mit den Kindern in ihrem Chalet in Les Diablerets, so lud ich zu einem Mittagessen ein, in einem Restaurant in den Bergen, das halbwegs zwischen Gstaad und Les Diablerets gelegen war. Und da machte ich Markus und seine Frau Marlis mit Wieka bekannt: Geschaeftsmann und Architekt lernten sich kennen. Dieses Mittagessen koennte gut als Gruendungsfeier des Projekts “Les Arts Gstaad” gelten. Wie Markus mir in seiner E-mail vom 28 ten Oktober 2009 schrieb: „so hast Du mich und Wieka zusammengebracht, was letztlich das heutige Projekt auslöste.“ . Paragraph 5.2.2: Zusaetzliche Vorgaben an die Arvchitekten . Als ich im vorigen Sommer bei Markus und Marlis Kappeler in Gstaad war, zeigte mir Markus die Vorgaben fuer die Architekten, und da sah ich den Paragraphen 5.2.2: . „Zusaetzliche Vorgaben: Der Konzertsaal muss auch fuer Ballettauffuehrungen bespielbar sein (gute Sicht auf Buehne, kein Orchestergraben, Orchester vor Buehne muss moeglich sein).“ . Nun hatte ich in meinem Beruf mit Buehne und Podium, mit Theater, Oper, Festival, Konzertdirektion und Musikwettbewerb, lebenslange Erfahrungen sammeln koennen, und wurde sofort stutzig, und sagte Markus gleich, dass dieser Kompromiss ein riesiger, technischer, praktischer Fehler sei, fuer die volle, ideale Ausnuetzung des Saals in der Zukunft. Aber meine sehr ernste Kritik fand leider kein Gehoer. Markus sagte mir, das waere zu teuer. . So schrieb ich Markus in einem Memorandum dass man doch die Fuesse der Taenzer nicht durch den fuchtelnden Taktstock des Dirigenten, durch die Koepfe der Instrumentalisten, und durch die Harfen und Bassgeigen sehen wollte! Und ausserdem, wenn Ballett, warum dann nicht andere Formen von Tanz, warum nicht auch Oper und Theater? Das Menuhin Festival, wenn es einmal einen Konzersaal zur Verfuegung haette, wuerde doch sein Programm offensichtlich erweitern. Und andere Produzenten wuerden von dem Saal den verschiedensten Gebrauch machen wollen, und den Vorteil einer flexiblen Buehne ausnutzen. . Aber der Paragraph 5.2.2. blieb stehen. Kein Orchestergraben... . Nun hatte ich das Beispiel der Royal Festival Hall (RFH) in London vor mir. Sie wurde als reiner Konzertsaal 1951 konzipiert, mit einem einfachen Podium fuer das Orchester. Es stellte sich aber bald heraus, dass man im Sommer, waerend der BBC Promenade Concert Season in der Albert Hall, eine lange Balletsaison in der Festival Hall veranstaltetete, also dass der Konzertsaal nicht nur fuer Konzerte benutzt wurde, sondern fuer sehr viele andere, verschiedenartige, Veranstaltungen. Voriges Jahr wurde die RFH voellig erneuert, und bekam eine total flexible Buehne, die ich mir von dem Technical Director von der Southbank Arts Centre, Eddy Smith, zeigen liess, und dessen Details ich auch an Markus weitergab. Sie besteht aus elf Teilen, die einen Meter hochgefahren werden, und einem extra Teil das vorgeschoben wird; 5 Reihen Sitze werden entfernt, um so einen Ochestergraben herzustellen. Die Chorsitze werden hydraulisch weggefahren, um eine klare Flaeche fuer dramatische und Tanzveranstaltungen zur Verfuegung zu haben. . Genau das braucht der Konzertsaal von Les Arts Gstaad. . Und er braucht es umsomehr, als Gstaad, das Saanenland, im Gegensatz zu der Grossstadt, doch nur den einen grossen, nach Mass gearbeiteten, Raum fuer Vorstellungen aller Art zur Verfuegung haben wird. . Die Frage besteht also: Wird Paragraph 5.2.2 nun wohl gestrichen werden? Bekommt der Konzertsaal einen Orchestergraben? . -0- . Katalysator Durch Zufall

. Der Zufall wollte es, dass ich in meinem Leben Yehudi Menuhin zwei mal als Bote dienen durfte: . In Portsmouth, als City Arts Administrator und Festival Director, habe ich die Idee und den Vorschlag des Oberstadtdirektors, fuer einen staedtischen Musikwettbewerb, von Portsmouth zu Menuhin in London, gebracht. Und so wurde Menuhin der Kuenstlerische Leiter und Berater, und der Vorsitzende der Jury von, jetzt, der “City of London International String Quartet Competition”. .. Und in Gstaad habe ich die Idee und den Vorschlag von Menuhin, damals von einem Opernhaus in einer Hoehle im Berg, ueber Berlin, ueber Welwyn Garden City und ueber London, zurueck nach Gstaad, zu Markus Kappeler, gebracht, und es wurden das Kunstzentrum “Les Arts Gstaad”. . C Peter Zander 14ten Juni 2010