Once upon a time, there was an elderly lady who passed on the same four words to those around her again and again: “Zfrieda muss ma si” — you have to be content. When the young people sat at the kitchen table complaining about everything that was missing, what new things the neighbor had, or how unfair the world was, she would slowly smooth the tablecloth with her rough hands, smile quietly, and say that sentence. ...
A few days ago, I was out riding my longboard. There is a kid living in the neighborhood with whom I now often do a few laps. When we ran into each other again today, the greeting was not just a simple “Hello.” The kid looked at me and said, as naturally as could be: “I missed you.” A small sentence, honest and unfiltered. In that moment I am no educator and I am not doing anything special — I am just riding my board. And yet that one sentence made my whole day brighter. It pulls you straight into the here and now. ...
For a long time, Vorarlberg was a bitterly poor land. A land that had to send its own children on foot over the mountains into foreign parts as Schwabenkinder (Swabian children) because there was not enough at home to feed everyone. Today we look at clean municipalities, strong businesses in the Rhine Valley and Walgau, hydroelectric power plants in the mountains, and a prosperity that many envy us for. And we often act as if all of that had grown out of the ground all by itself — solely through our own diligence. ...
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. ...
Note: My personal construct of ideas for ten 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. ...
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.” ...
I write about software architecture because I love it. For a long time I thought that was the only reason. I also love teaching. Through sharing, a lot has gotten better, and in software “together” now includes the tools we use. They are not taking over the world and they are not taking jobs, not soon and not on a horizon I would name. At software they are good. I have been programming publicly for over 24 years. Parts of that work can be found online at @jochumdev and @r3j0. ...