Ramblings of a much published New Zealand author

06 February 2010

The European Dis-Union

The current inability of some member states such as Portugal, Greece and Spain to meet their financial obligations is corrosive but the underlying reason why the European Union is in strife is simply that so many of its members can’t stand each other.

Looking objectively at a distance of 20000 km from the land of my birth I have found it hard to believe that the EU will survive; that it will be more than an anomaly in a long history of warring tribes. And now that that distance is compounded both by 50 years of exile and the seamless adoption of a New Zealand identity it becomes increasing apparent that my scepticism about the EU was well founded.
When I was an Englishman the very idea of chummy unity with other states of Europe was distasteful. I had, after all, spent many days and nights in air raid shelters as a boy while Hitler’s Luftwaffe dropped its hardware upon me, my family and our neighbours. It was impossible to erase the image of my father, red-eyed and face creased with fatigue returning to our suburban home after nights fighting fires in London’s docklands. A British-German brotherhood was unthinkable.
And didn’t an antipathy towards the French reside in the genes of all English (very distinctly English, this; the Scots were always ready to march in step with the French!). Why was that? Was it because the French loathed the English for winning at Crecy, Poitiers and Agincourt? Perversely the English have invariably liked everything about the French - the wines, the spirits, the cheeses - except the French themselves.
In those days also, to an Englishman, Italians were, perhaps, lovable but irrelevant; the Spanish were onion-eaters of little account since their Armada failed; the Dutch ate tulip bulbs and wore clogs; Luxembourg was a radio station and none of the other European states had any image whatsoever.
In light of those dyed-in-the-wool attitudes - which I have largely sloughed off but which, I know, remain in some of my English contemporaries - it has been, to me, perfectly understandable that Britain has played an arm’s length game with Brussels and has lacked commitment, being especially resistant to joining the common currency. Perhaps, at the heart of British reluctance is the same suspicion that I harbour, that the EU will not hold up.
Personal experiences support my view: dining out in Florence with friends one evening I noticed how contemptuous and dismissive of us was our waiter. The service was surly; his gaze distant; he would not engage us. I was puzzled until, having finally taken our order he said ‘Danke!’ with the heaviest irony. I chased after him and said, in my frightful Italian, ‘Non Tedesci; siamo da la Nuova Zelanda.’ (‘We are not German, we’re from New Zealand’) At which his attitude changed diametrically. He admitted he had thought us German and happily added that he loathed Germans.
At a money changer’s near the Ponte Vecchio we were appalled at the ill-mannered imperiousness with which young German tourists barked at the Italian teller. Considering that the Nazis had, within living memory, destroyed every bridge over the Arno River except the Ponte Vecchio they were hardly conciliatory!
At Echternach where a tranquil river separates Luxembourg from Germany a Luxembourgoise hotelier spoke to me with undisguised hate for her neighbours: ‘Their tanks invaded us in the war’ she spat, ‘and now they invade us for our cheap cigarettes at the weekends!’
The European Union comprises takers and givers. It is, surely, only a matter of time before those who believe themselves to be more givers than takers will seethe with resentment and seek to reduce their favours. In the small town of Barga in northern Tuscany a school, a municipal office building and the ancient cathedral all bear notices to the effect that their reconstruction and earthquake-proofing has been paid for by the European Union. How long will it be before visitors from other EU states will say, ‘Hey: we’re paying for this. What do we get out of it?’ For there’s no doubt in my mind that the Union will only survive as long as its members believe there’s a benefit to them in staying.
In this climate of restlessness the British if Gordon Brown or his nearing successor ever allow them to have their referendum, will vote ‘No’ to the bulk of the European administration’s strictures.
And now, when Greece, Portugal and, soon, Spain can’t play their economic parts, deep in the cosy shires of perfidious Albion, and in the financial courts of Wall Street, (and in Albany, New Zealand) Euro-sceptics nod sagely, nudge one another and say ‘It won’t last. Told you so.’



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By Don Donovan

About Me

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Don Donovan: Biography

I was born on 20 January 1933, nine days before Hitler came to power in Germany, I grew up in south London. Although evacuated during the phoney war and the quieter times I lived in and out of air raid shelters during the blitz and experienced both V1 and V2 attacks on London. Left grammar school in 1948 aged 15 substantially undereducated. I wanted to go to art school but because of family ‘poverty’ joined a commercial art studio in the West End. I was, thereafter, variously a messenger boy, commercial artist and typographer. I was in the Royal Air Force from 1951 to 1953 when the only useful thing I did was to take part in King George VI’s funeral parade.

In 1955 I married Patricia O’Donnell, a RADA graduate, at that time playing opposite Derek Nimmo, they were juvenile leads in a touring repertory company. He went on to great success because he had a funny voice.

We came to New Zealand in 1960 where I worked in advertising. At length I became managing director of one of the companies of whose holding company (the largest domestic advertising complex in New Zealand) I was also a proprietor and shareholder. I left the industry in 1990 when my company was bought out by American interests. My timing was brilliant, at that point my first book had been published and the next was on its way.

We have two daughters and four grand-children.

Now, apart from writing, I function as a self-educated grumpy old man.

Books & Writings

‘New Zealand Odyssey’, with Euan Sarginson, Heinemann-Reed, 1989.

‘One Man’s Heart Attack’, New House, 1990. (A special edition of this book was purchased by CIBA-Geigy for distribution to NZ doctors).

‘Open 7 Days’, Random Century, October 1991.

‘The Good Old Kiwi Pub’ by Saint Publishing in 1995 followed by:
‘New Zealand House & Cottage’ in 1997. (Saint Publishing have also published calendars for the years 1994 to 2004 using my watercolour illustrations).

‘The Wastings’, my first novel was published in July 1999 by Hazard Press. Although an international subject it had very limited distribution, only in New Zealand, and the rights have reverted to me. (Colin Dexter read 'The Wastings' and wrote to me: 'I enjoyed and admired "The Wastings"... a beautifully written work... a splendid debut in crime fiction... More please!'.)

Also the texts of photographic books:
‘Colourful New Zealand’
‘New Zealand in Colour’
‘Top of the South’
‘Above Auckland’
‘Hauraki Gulf Destinations’
‘Bay of Plenty’
and a compilation of photographs and quotations titled ‘Anzac Memories’ 2004 all published by New Holland.

My written and illustrated book, ‘Country Churches of New Zealand’ was published in October 2002 by New Holland, who also published ‘Rural New Zealand’ 2004 (photographs and text), and a series of four humorous books of photographs and quotations in 2004 and 2005 titled ‘Woolly Wisdom’, ‘Chewing the Cud’, ‘Fowl Play’, and ‘Pig Tales’. My most recent book was published in August 2006 by New Holland, titled ‘Political Animals’.

Over the years I have written for NZ Herald, Heritage Magazine, Next Magazine and various local and overseas travel and general interest media.