What Now? The Newsletter
These are the tips, recommendations and caveats that I send out with my monthly newsletter. Which you can subscribe to here!
April 2025
Go to war? – It is astonishing: When the Spanish Civil War broke out in the summer of 1936, numerous international intellectuals – among them George Orwell, André Malraux, Martha Gellhorn and Ernest Hemingway – joined the Spanish Government forces in their fight against General Franco’s fascists. Today, a war is raging in Europe that has already claimed more victims than the one back then, and in which the roles of good and evil are at least as obvious. But when intellectuals speak out about it at all – the vast majority avoids doing so – they often warn, under the pretence of pacifism, against full and effective support for Ukraine. What if that support were seen as participation in the war? What if, in the end, we were forced to face the destroyer of democracy and human rights ourselves? You don’t necessarily have to take up arms to keep a clear conscience. (Hemingway, by the way, didn’t, either; he was «only» a reporter in the war). But even in post-heroic times, coming out in support of the victims of and offering them the odd franc/euro/dollar should not be too much to ask. Especially from those who prefer to fight with the pen.
Listen to Happy Traum – This is not a new album by Heidi Happy (although I’ll recommend that too, when it comes), but a real name! Harry Peter «Happy» Traum was born in 1938, grew up in New York’s Greenwich Village in the early 1960s (along with Bob Dylan), and died in 2024. Farewell song: There’s a Bright Side Somewhere. I can’t listen to his feel-good folk for too long, but it is a nice reminder of an America that used to be – and perhaps will re-emerge someday.
Tie your shoes on one leg – The very best fitness tests are free. Whenever I tie my shoes, I try to do it standing on one leg – and because I usually leave the house sober, I reliably succeed. I even like to think that I’ll keep this skill forever if I practise it every day: If I can do something so simple today, how would I not be able to do it tomorrow? Should that sad day ever come, I’ll lose more than my balance.
March 2025
Don’t be an asshole – Politics have recently become simple. They used to be rather complicated: Should we change the tax system? If so, how? Protect the climate? With what measures? Support the economy? Yes, but which one? It wasn’t always clear what was right. Discussions and debates were important. Then, however, came the assholes. Berlusconi in Italy, Haider in Austria, Orbán in Hungary, Trump in America, and so on. Now, every country seems to have its own. Of course, there have always been assholes – but they used to be outsiders who could easily and safely be ignored. They had no megaphone and no network. Today, however, they have both, and so they organise, recruit and mobilise themselves. Suddenly, there are very, very many of them – or at least they have become more visible. And they are grasping for power, as any group that sees an opportunity to form a majority will try to. As a result, they are setting the political agenda – whether we like it or not. The discussions and debates have become obsolete. Of course it would be important to discuss whether geoengineering is sensible, whether we need start-up subsidies for technology firms or a higher value-added tax. It would be important if we weren’t facing a much more urgent question: Whether the assholes will come to power (or stay in power where they already are). Against the immediate danger they pose, everything else becomes a minor matter, because the assholes have the capacity to answer every single political question in the worst possible way. That’s why people with a heart and a brain and a spine need to join forces urgently, even if they don’t agree on everything. What matters these days is not so much whether we vote for this or that party, for this woman or that man – what matters is not to vote for assholes. That is: not to be one ourselves.
Support Ukraine – Ukraine is the victim of the biggest and most brutal war since 1945. It deserves all the support it can get. Which to organize should be the task of politicians – after all, what’s at stake is nothing less than a world order based on principles and rules. But because politicians in many countries are indifferent or indecisive (or even make common cause with the war criminals), private organizations have to step in. Supporting these is easier said than done in cowardly Switzerland. Military support for Ukraine is prevented under the pretence of neutrality. Several donations that I wanted to transfer at the beginning of the war were rejected by my bank, with reference to Swiss legislation. The only happy exception so far is the organisation Come Back Alive, now the largest NGO in Ukraine. If you want to know how they use their money, you can read reports like the one by Junior Sergeant Yulia Paievska (pictured above) on their website. Donations can be made by credit card and the purpose of every single transfer can be tracked in detail.
Drink hot honey – Who wouldn’t need a drink today? And what do you drink on the evening of a day that isn’t Friday, Saturday or Sunday? I’ve been asking myself that question ever since I decided not to drink alcohol during the week. So wine, beer and spirits are out of the question, but unfortunately, it’s precisely these three that have what it takes to keep me organoleptically entertained for an evening. There are hardly any non-fermented drinks that are not banal in comparison. Finally, however, I have found one – honey stirred into hot water. I’ve no clue about what goes on in the bodies of bees when they process the nectar they collect, but the result can be second to no Grand Cru. The variety of honey types – depending on the origin of the pollen or honeydew – is as fascinating as that of wine. What’s more, and that’s what amazes me most, a glass of hot honey water tastes just as strong, full-bodied and long-lasting as something alcoholic. I assume this is because alcohol is nothing else than converted sweetness. Both fill the palate and will stay there until you either decide to go to bed or, rather, to have another glass. The only thing that annoys me about this discovery is that I didn’t make it earlier. It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise: «Eat honey, my son», King Solomon advised his offspring, adding: «for it is good.» Words as wise and compelling as any.
February 2025
Vote — With this I’d like to address in particular (but not only) my neighbours and friends in Germany, who will have the opportunity to choose between «Jamaica», «Kenya», «Germany», «Dirndl», a Fourth Reich or some other colorful option on February 23. It’s of immeasurable importance that every rational voter exercises her or his right. (While everyone else is welcome to stay home.) Because it’s true what Winston Churchill said: that democracy is the worst form of government – except for all the others. But it’s also true what Henry Mencken said: «As democracy continues to perfect itself, the presidency will more and more accurately reflect the inner soul of the people. One great and glorious day, the people’s heart’s desire will be fulfilled and the White House will be adorned with a true idiot.» Fortunately, at least in theory, there are different ways of perfecting democracy. For those of you who haven’t completely given up on it, here’s a suggestion (in German).
Eat mandarins (don’t learn Mandarin) — Learning foreign languages is, sorry, passé, and it’s not coming back – may the pupils of Zug and Zuoz say what they will. Simultaneous translation has simply become too good, and soon we won’t even try to talk to the cameriere without a button in our ear. This applies even more to China and Mandarin. Duolingo, thank you very much, it was nice knowing you. Now, however, the fruit called mandarin – also known as tangerine – continues to be shamefully underestimated. It is the absolute queen of fruits (and, did you know?, the common orange’s mother) – no other fruit can rival it in terms of aromatic complexity, subtlety and idiosyncrasy. Unfortunately, many decades ago, some ignoramuses bred the seeds out of it, and, with them, all its flavour. The result they chose to call «clementine», and pitiful it is, indeed. I can hardly imagine that anyone in China, the country where the mandarin comes from, would consider eating something like this. As soon as they understand me simultaneously, I’ll ask some Chinese tourists.
Cook with Anna Jones — To come back to the adorable mandarin: Anyone who actually has a problem with seeds in a fruit (I wonder if these people also have a problem with clouds in the sky, or waves on the water) – that is, people unfamiliar with the cultural techniques of swallowing or spitting, can still cook the rice pudding that Anna Jones describes in her book One Pot, Pan, Planet. She uses only the juice and zest of the mandarin, but they alone are enough to make it by far the best rice pudding I’ve ever had on a spoon.
January 2025
Moralise — Morals are not exactly fashionable. Even those who try to uphold them prefer to talk about ethics, which somehow sounds more contemporary. They’re not the same thing, however: ethics are purely descriptive, the scientific analysis of good and bad behaviour. Morals, on the other hand, are prescriptive, they define what is right and wrong, what we should or should not do. An ethicist thus can’t be accused of much, unlike a moralist: she risks being labelled as «lecturing», as a «do-gooder» with a chronically raised indexfinger. These accusations reliably come from those who have the most to fear when their questionable behaviour is being called out: from self-righteous egoists, cynics and thugs. If you think about it, however, much-ridiculed moralising is at least the second-noblest activity a human can pursue – right after exemplary behaviour. Doing good ourselves is undoubtedly our first moral duty. But encouraging others to do good – moralising – may have an even greater effect. We need more, not fewer, moralists.
Breed mammoths — The mammoth is my favourite animal (or would be if it still existed). I was therefore delighted when I heard on Sam Harris’ podcast that the American entrepreneur Ben Lamm wants to resurrect the woolly giant – not at some distant point in the future, but before the end of the decade. Delighted I was, and also a little frightened, because interventions in the planet’s gene pool tend to come with mammoth-sized uncertainties. Lamm is serious about this, though, and he seems to have the best intentions. According to him, the reintroduction of extinct species (he also works on the genome of the Tasmanian Tiger and the Dodo) could not only be spectacular, but also ecologically sensible. Listen to his and Harris’ conversation here.
Open email blindly — I get about three or four dozen emails a day. Most of them are harmless (my favourites are simple spam that I can just click away). But what if a request pops up that you know is going to turn your whole week upside down? What if the French Road Traffic Office suddenly gets in touch? Or that long-forgotten school friend who thinks that it’s «finally time for a drink after all these years»? I’m afraid of messages like that, not to mention the really bad news. And I’m not the only one: according to a recent German study, more than 60 percent of us feel stressed and consider their health affected by the daily flood of email. What to do? Unwanted messages and requests can’t simply be magicked away – there comes a time when you must deal with them. What can be eliminated, however, is the stress we feel before opening them. In most cases, the sender’s name or the subject line is enough to make us break out in a sweat. We may still be on the first email of the day, but we’ve already glanced over what is lurking fourteen lines further down. And twenty-two. And thirty-five … Unread messages can upset us so much that we can’t even concentrate on the one that’s in front of us, let alone anything else. That’s why I’ve got into the habit of moving the email window to the left side of the screen – so far that I can only see the «sent» dates, not the senders and not the subject lines. This way I know how many messages I have left to read, but not who they come from or what they contain. Going through email thus feels like going through a pile of letters used to feel: You calmly open one after the other, not knowing what to expect. This won’t protect you from unpleasant surprises, but it does take away the fear of them because you can’t see them coming. Also, every now and then, you might be in for a nice surprise.
