Germany may be the only European nation that is large enough and rich enough to cover the debts of its struggling neighbors, but its citizens are reluctant to be the source of the bailout. Germany is in many ways in the eye of the storm, with barely a hint of the winds swirling nearby. There is no tear gas, as in Athens; no tires burning, as in London; no chanting crowds packing public squares, as in Spain. While much of the rest of Europe is struggling to pass harsh austerity packages, Germany is in the midst of a debate over cutting taxes by as much as $14.2 billion.

“It’s as if there’s this black cloud floating overhead but nothing has fallen on us,” said Markus Ponick, 38, a teacher in Berlin, who on Monday was strolling down a tree-lined stretch of Bleibtreustrasse with a cup of coffee in his hand. The government had made cuts, Mr. Ponick said, but they had been “cleverly chosen” to spare the public pain. “The effects of this crisis are imperceptible here,” he said.

The only major protests to strike Germany have been over tearing down an old train station in Stuttgart or calling for the end of nuclear power. Animal rights and affordable Internet, rather than jobs and spending cuts, are more likely to cause people to take to the streets right now, and even then not in terribly great numbers.

The simplest explanation is jobs.

By one government measure, 706,000 more Germans were employed in May of this year than the year before, of which 415,000 were full-time positions and 289,000 part time. In terms of relative size, that would be roughly comparable in the United States to nearly 2.7 million more people with jobs in 2011 versus 2010.

With strong unions and legal protections for workers, Germany’s labor market for years was compared unfavorably with the more flexible American one. Even after embarking on painful reforms, it suffered from high structural unemployment. In July, German unemployment was 7 percent, compared with 9.1 percent in the United States.

As Germany’s population shrinks, some economists and policy makers are more concerned about a shortage of qualified workers than joblessness.

As for the young, the unemployment rate is the third lowest in Europe, behind only the Netherlands and Austria. Only 9.1 percent of people between the ages of 15 and 24 are unemployed here, less than half the 20.5 percent average in Europe.

“I wouldn’t protest because I’m very content with my situation,” said Kristina Kuhn, 21, a student out shopping on the upscale Kurfürstendamm boulevard on Monday afternoon. “Young people can study, find jobs on the side and have opportunities for careers.”

A recent report in the daily newspaper Bild said that government experts expect the job boom to continue for another four years. In a survey of 1,800 Germans prepared for the business magazine WirtschaftsWoche by the Allensbach Institute for Public Opinion Research, a majority spoke of an era of increased insecurity, but a full 53 percent said they were optimistic about the next 12 months. Only 12 percent were pessimistic.

“They hear it on the news but for most Germans what they experience in their lives is completely different. The crisis is virtual,” said Renate Köcher, the institute’s director. “What’s decisive for most people is their own situation and for many people that has improved noticeably in the past three or four years.”

Labels: finance, Germany

Labels: finance

Mets fans of a certain age will recall a popular poster from 1986, bearing the word “Nails” in bold letters across the top, and featuring a shirtless Dykstra, wearing eye black and holding a bat against his shoulder. The nickname referred to his tenacity and also to his peculiar Southern California lexicon. (“MTV is nails,” he explained in his autobiography, also called “Nails,” which was published in 1987, when he was twenty-four. “Winning is nails.”) He was wiry then; he used to complain that Lenny might as well have been his middle name, given how often it was preceded by the word “little”: Little Lenny Dykstra. He is lumpy now. Referring to his suit, which was pin-striped, he said, “It gets a little tighter, you know?” His hands tremble, his back hurts, and his speech, like that of an insomniac or a stroke victim, lags slightly behind his mind. He winks without obvious intent. In his playing days, he had a term for people like this: fossils. Nothing about his physical presence any longer suggests nails, and sometimes, as if in joking recognition of this softening, he answers the phone by saying, “Thumbtacks.”

[snip]

For many ballplayers, the growing-up point does not arrive until after retirement, when all the freebies vanish and equipment managers and hotel maids can no longer be relied upon for regular laundry service. Dykstra last played in the majors in 1996, at age thirty-three. Improbably, he has since become a successful day trader, and he let me know that he owns both a Maybach (“the best car”) and a Gulfstream (“the best jet”). The occasion for our lunch, however, was a new venture: Dykstra is launching a magazine, intended specifically for pro athletes, called The Players Club. An unfortunate number of his former teammates have ended up broke, or divorced, or worse. The week before we met, the ex-Yankee Jim Leyritz, himself twice divorced and underemployed, had hit a woman while driving home from a bar. He never grew up.

[snip]

Dykstra did not attend college, and, like many accomplished autodidacts, he is ever alert for signs of condescension, but he relishes his newfound opportunity to meet executives in a boardroom rather than on the charity golf circuit, and studies their habits carefully, to the point of noting their preferred e-mail font sizes. He is open about the fact that many businessmen—“​graybeards”—​have a hard time taking him seriously. “It’s like I got hit with an idiot stick—took ten lashes on the way in,” he said of a recent meeting. The steady pursuit and accumulation of class markers and status symbols is a handy defense against such anxieties, and during a rare break between calls he led me to a different computer, in the front seat, to show off a photograph that he was using as his wallpaper. “This is my bird, here—that’s a GII,” he said. “I wasn’t going to buy a plane till I bought a Gulfstream, ’cause Gulfstream’s the best in the world—and there’s not a close second, by the way. That’s something that was important to me. Like, all my hard work? Gulfstream makes me feel like it was worth something.”

“Wives are key, dude. They are key. It’s a tough life. Your husband is gone and it’s always about him, and then—can you imagine?—he’s done, and all that happens, and you got no money?” (The fact that he and Terri have been married for twenty-three years, through stardom and retirement, seems to surprise even Dykstra. “Terri’s a special person, and I’m a very, very lucky guy,” he said. “It took me a long time to realize that. You know what I mean?”)

Labels: finance, Lenny Dykstra, New York Mets