Society

If you like, listen while reading: Once upon a time, there was a boy who grew up in a house where the light rarely reached the floor. His hands were still small, yet they already knew how to tremble. His back was still soft, yet he already knew how to hunch when the footsteps outside the door grew heavy. And worse than the blows that could be seen were the sentences that stayed behind. They did not draw a boundary around what he did — they described what he supposedly was: too loud, too little, wrong. ...

Recently, the question of what a perfect world would look like was asked in an online forum. If you follow the political debates of our days, the answer usually sounds like more speed, more growth, sharper edges, or the next grand system overhaul. My answer turned out differently. Quieter. In my perfect village – a region, a country, a continent, or even a world – people are above all one thing: content. ...

If you like, listen while reading: In a village at the edge of the forest, everyone wore invisible suits of armour made of iron. Whoever wanted to be strong showed no weakness. Only one man did not play along. If you asked him who he was, he grinned: “An idiot and a fool – it even says so on my report card.” Then he laughed, and people quickly walked on. ...

Why we fall silent when life hurts – and what freedom lies in taking off our own armour. In extreme cases, silence can be life-threatening. It quietly isolates us from the inside out, gnaws at our self-confidence, and in the worst case costs lives. Why, then, is it still so hard for us to speak up when life hurts? Viewed without blame, our silence is an old suit of armour. Across generations – through wars, poverty, and the hard reconstruction after 1945 – an iron rule of survival applied: pull yourself together and function. Our ancestors had to pack away their pain in order to build the prosperity we enjoy today. Their silence was not coldness, but necessity. ...

Note: My personal construct of ideas for seven attitudes. This is not an academic paper, but a conjecture – grown from historical observations, conversations, and experiences I have gathered from all over through the years. If you like, listen while reading: § 1 Togetherness. In times of scarcity, retreating into one’s own group was vital for survival; today we are all in the same boat – whether young or old, whether born here or newly arrived. Instead of falling back into old defensive reflexes of division and confrontation, we use what we in Austria have learned across generations: we bring different interests to one table, seek a viable compromise – and tackle things together. ...

I think of a fictional person. He is a pacifist — not because he read about it, but because he has experienced violence and rejects it. He comes from a country where men must be strong and are not permitted to show shame. He flees. He arrives here. He carries something with him. The conviction that peace is possible if someone starts it. He wanted to contribute here. Not as a gesture — because he knows what happens when no one does. He has seen where hate leads. He wanted to live the opposite. ...

If you like, listen while reading: The fool is one of the oldest figures in human history. He goes by many names — shaman, dervish, mystic, court jester. What connects them: an inner freedom that outlasts outer circumstances. He sees differently and speaks what others leave unsaid. He cannot be bought. The fool knows the word no — toward himself and toward others. ...

Honest note upfront: I do not live in the United States and, quite honestly, have no idea what everyday life on the ground truly feels like there. This text is purely an observation from afar – prompted by media images that stayed with me – and above all a reflection on why our social peace here at home is so precious. At the White House Correspondents’ Dinner in Washington, an elderly gentleman sat upright and calmly ate his burrata. Outside, gunshots; inside, panic. He stayed seated. Bad back, he said dryly afterwards. New tuxedo, dirty floor. ...

Third part of the series “Rebellion as Civic Duty” The first two articles dealt with the big question: why does France rebel, and Austria does not? With Hofstede and Milgram, with police and media, with systems and structures. This article goes back to the beginning — to the moment when rebellion in Vorarlberg actually happened. Briefly. Loudly. And then it was over. Feldkirch, 1977: Two Weeks to the First Concert At the end of 1977, a few young people came together at the Graf Hugo youth center in Feldkirch. Galle, Franz, Slaughter, and Chy — four guys who had heard about punk in England through the German magazine Sounds and, yes, Bravo. The spark didn’t come from Vienna, not from Innsbruck, and certainly not from any Austrian institution. It came from a Zurich DIY fanzine called “No Fun,” published by Peter Wittwer and Martin Byland. Inside was a sentence from an English punk magazine: “Buy a guitar, learn a C, learn a D, learn an E and join a band.” ...

We sort people. Daily, unconsciously, in fractions of a second. Homeless. Unemployed. Addicted. Failed. The drawer opens, the person goes in, the drawer closes. What’s inside, we no longer see — we only see the label. What the Drawer Does to the Person Whoever is classified first loses their name. Not the one on their ID — the inner one. The name that says: I am someone. I have a story. I have contributed something. ...