Greek crisis: economic misery forces workers from cities and a return to a barter economy

May 3rd, 2012

FAKE NEWS for the Zionist agenda

Ms Boubouli does accept euros for her produce but also TEM, the Greek acronym
for Local Alternative Unit, a coupon scheme that allows members of a network
to exchange services and products. Volos, a city on the Aegean coast 200
miles north of Athens, is one of ten such set-ups, with another ten about to
start soon.

She recently used 30 TEMs to pay for some legal advice from Elena Dimitriou, a
lawyer, who in turn used the coupons for piano lessons, an electrician and
food at a weekly market for TEM-friendly producers.

“The scheme gives me some protection from this crisis,” says Mrs
Dimitrou.

“With TEM I can purchase things that I just couldn’t afford any more
because business is so bad.” Another member is Katya Larisaiou, 35, who
joined last week and accepts the coupons at the Petit Fleur, a pretty,
pastel-coloured café she owns in the town centre.

“Someone said to me that all this bartering is going back 150 years, and
I know what he meant. But we have to go backwards to figure out where we
should be going,” she says, speaking fluent English learnt as a
psychology student at the University of Essex.

Arriving back in a hamlet outside Volos a couple of years ago, after ten years
in the cauldron of Athens, was, she says, a rediscovery of the virtues of
village life.

“I think villages are the future for Greeks the way things are going for
our country. You can maintain an acceptable standard of life and Greek
nature is fantastic. We have to get back to simple things.” Back in the
capital, Theodoros Mitropoulos is planning to relocate soon to the village
in the Peloponnesian peninsula where he was brought up.

His employment as a carpenter was ended two months ago. For the six months
before that he was only paid sporadically.

In Greece’s boom period before and after the 2004 Olympic Games, he was never
out of work and enjoyed a spell travelling Europe outfitting shops.

“Before the issue was how much I liked the job, what I could get out of
it,” he says. “Now there is no work in Athens, simply none.”
The bare facts of the crisis brought on by the government’s bankcruptcy are
staggering: unemployment is at 22 per cent, youth unemployment at 52 per
cent; suicides and use of anti-depressants are soaring.

Families’ lives are being turned upside down; the normal middle-class
expectations of work and wealth accumulation, and the ability to determine
one’s well-being, have been shattered.

Once resettled in his childhood home, Mr Mitropoulos plans to deliver fish
from Patras, a major port, door-to-door in surrounding towns.

“We have some land for animals and growing vegetables. I can use some and
sell some. Village life is less expensive, people share things, a café owner
doesn’t always charge you if he knows you or you’ve done him a favour.
People share.” He will leave his wife, a private English teacher whose
income has dropped by half, and daughter, a student, in the city. Once his
26-year-old son has finished military service later in the year, he is
likely to join the exodus of young people overseas, to Germany or Britain.

Many middle-aged Greeks fear for their children’s future more than theirs.

But amid the rage against the austerity demanded by the second £110 billion
European rescue loan, there is awareness that the older generations must
shoulder some of the blame.

“We all lived off the government directly or indirectly,” says Mr
Mitropoulos. Voters accepted state largesse without questioning the wisdom
or affordability of what was being offered, he thinks, pointing out that his
own sister retired at the age of 43 with a full pension – now reduced – of
£1,500 per month after just 20 years’ government service.

“We all expected the state to give and now that has gone because of the
bail-out and we have nothing to replace it. That will take a long time.”