Ah yes, we’ve all been there. You take the dog for his usual morning walk, and he doesn’t know where to lift his leg because all the trees have been cut down.
At Gärtnerplatz, right in the heart of Munich, twelve stately black locust trees were removed without warning. Reason: dead. Withered. Water stress, environment — the usual suspects. These things happen.
You can’t see inside a tree — unless you’ve looked inside beforehand. I hadn’t. Neither, I suppose, had anyone else. The sudden mass die-off of all the large trees on the square borders on sheer misfortune. The replacements have been decided: ornamental cherry trees.
“The cherry blossoms, in their delicate pink, will complement the vibrant diversity of Gärtnerplatz.”
Nobody said that. It would fit. A phrase like a sweet. It’s unlikely to turn into kirsch. The benefit lies in the blossom. They don’t fall; they float. Perhaps the idea is intended as a small gesture toward the queer community. Perhaps it’s simply pretty. Perhaps it’s just a phrase that went down well with the committee. Perhaps it’s a hit with the voters.
Ecologically speaking, the little trees provide around ten per cent of the benefit of the felled giants. If it’s the hardy Kanzan cherry – the giant amongst the small trees – perhaps twenty per cent. The balance will surely be restored, they say.
And if Munich plants the mathematically necessary hundred trees instead of twelve, the cherry blossom will become the symbol of an open city. Short-lived, but a model nonetheless.
Surely they won’t just plant the twelve trees … and in the three-metre variety, no less…
There is a tension arising from misguided attention to detail, which has given way to initial horror. How does one criticise a government that wants to protect trees whilst the trees are dying? The opposition opted for cautionary hope. No technical analysis of the causes. No signal effect for a process that consistently monitors the condition of trees and soil.
Hope is cheap. Analysing the causes would be expensive — but necessary. Every fruit grower knows what’s going on with their trees. The ornamental cherry tree is a good example of this. The perceived benefits of green spaces in urban areas are still at the ‘selfie’ level.
A demand that rings hollow. Yet, one can see that a large tree certainly makes a better impression. Magnificent. Keep it up.
Until the new trees are in place, the dog lifts its leg in the blazing sun. At least the articulated buses can now manoeuvre around the square more easily. Now that the black locust trees are gone, they might as well make the entrances to the roundabout less steep whilst they’re at it.
Honi soit, qui…
Trees can die. So can communication.Let both die, and the cost will be severe. More trees will fall because the foundations are lacking. And the debates will heat up — just like the city’s climate.
We’ve all been there.
A round of drinks, a bad joke at the expense of a group, an age-old gag. A few idiots laugh. If you’re unlucky, the noise level rises. The standard always drops.
A comedian who’s been around for decades has stepped right into it. Nuhr thought he could do two things at once: appeal to a broad audience and engage in a semantic debate.
That rarely goes well. The audience wanted a laugh. He delivered – and found himself caught in his own trap. Or perhaps it was art with a thirst for sacrifice.
A programme funded by compulsory licence fees is always in the spotlight of public opinion. Any sensationalism, whether met with approval or disapproval, has a magnified effect. On 18 June, many people did not want to go along with what was being broadcast.
It began with structure: a talk against generalisation and about the illusion that new terms defuse old meanings.
Example: women and parking. That’s where it happened. We’ve all been there. You win over the audience, and it mustn’t end. The first platitude brought more relief than understanding.
The second segment could have taken a critical look at semantic conformity.
Nuhr had his audience in the palm of his hand — but on the wrong floor of the ‘entertainment’ building. They were at basement level and happy to remain there.
The introduction was too long. The technical content too ambitious. The audience too eager. He points out technical errors and incorrect statistics to the author of a personal newspaper article who is expressing her opinion. The audience has no patience for the misuse of statistics. Or perhaps they do. Technical errors are absolute. They were still in full swing. The initial outburst set off the next stage of escalation.
Nuhr delivered. His argument was too heavily laden with violence and sexuality versus female-determined restraint. Women should get to know men first before sleeping with them. Then they’d be safer from violence.
Well. We’ve all seen that happen. Completely messed up. Beyond saving. Or is it?
One gag remained: the sentence had been taken out of context.
The context was the problem. Trying to weld a hard-hitting programme together so that everyone can enjoy it is technically wrong. The daft jokes serve to lighten the mood. Their escalation overshadows everything else. He knows his audience mix.
He knows the dynamics.
However, whilst his performance remained within the theme and context, he could have dared to expose parts of his audience and stir up public debate. He did not do so, but instead continued to feed into the narrative, more directly, and chose the side where the firecrackers in the cellar obscure the unwelcome view.
So what now?
Stick to the line and the theme, or switch roles and deconstruct as you please?
Both are possible. The derailment on display dismantles itself. I’d welcome fewer jokes and more precise jibes.
We’ve all been there.
The village Vic has an outrageous source of extra income, and shady characters turn up at church. Money has a strange way of opening doors.
The American President has made over two billion. How charming. The figure is large enough to outshine everything else. A wave of opinions is sweeping across the global audience. They judge without classifying, without putting things into perspective. All based solely on their own understanding of this one situation. Armed themselves with a perception that rubs against the figure and sharpens its perceived meaning.
Some cheer because it shows what is possible in these times with small policy shifts and popularity.
Others are horrified and see moral decay.
The comparison with the village vicar may have its flaws.
Why do democracies have laws? If they are insufficient, they should be amended. Where there are grounds for suspicion, an investigation should be carried out.
It’s all a distraction. Quantifiable things are easy to assess. Social development or political integrity? Far too difficult. Our education systems are generally too weak to deal with this.
Who actually does their homework when a circus is passing through town? And the circus distracts us — until oil prices rise and the cost of living soars. Then heavier artillery is needed. Foreign policy always works as a distraction. A fierce row distracts us … until oil prices skyrocket and the cost of living becomes unbearable. Then comes a tipping point that can carry explosive potential.