Help?

‘What’s with all this help in this district, these days? Seems like there’s a new support project arriving every week. I wasn’t aware that we were in trouble. What’s the problem?’

While our minds race for some of the statistics we’ve seen, on unemployment, poverty and illiteracy rates, we stutter, stumble something about migration, about a neighbourhood left behind.

But our talking partner, a local restaurant owner from Croatian descent, pushes on persuasively, in a friendly way that makes one feel at ease. We tell him that we assemble stories, that we want to know more about the people here, that we have some questions.

Some conversations just run themselves…

‘Life is good in this district, its people are friendly and diverse. Not much of it ever features in the media of course — there it’s always the same story about this neighbourhood: of illegal migrants, drugs, integration problems. I’ll tell you, migrants keep this place alive. They run the groceries, the restaurants.

And then people like you come and ask what our problems are. Don’t do what the media do. Don’t shine your light on our problems, why don’t you start with acknowledging what’s positive?

25 years ago, I came here with nothing. I built up this place. I pushed my children to learn German, to do well in school. The discrimination was bad then — Austrians left row, foreigners right row, that kind of stuff — but we pushed on and they landed well. It’s worse now.

Me and my friends, we always laughed at Austrian superiority feelings. Most of the guests here in this Wirtshaus, are so unaware of Austrian history, the simplicities, the prejudice. Austrian politics, the social system, it’s all so f*** up. No wonder, the FPÖ doesn’t have to do much to receive the ‘Wutburger’ at the nearby Viktor Adler Platz with open arms.’

His tone of voice remains light, but a certain sadness emerges in his eyes.

‘I am worried, the polarization we see now reminds me of pre-war Yugoslavia. Do you really think that initiatives like yours will help? Gebietsbetreuung, Wohnpartner, workshops, festivals, leaflets, what good does it do?’

He pauses for a second.

‘What helped in Slovenia after the war: satire. It enabled people to laugh about each other and offered a platform for a raw kind of reconciliation, but it worked.

The people here don’t need more social workers. They don’t need the rubbish trainings that the ArbeitsMarkt Service produces. They need jobs, they need opportunities to learn a craft so that they can make their own money.

Most of all though, they need some recognition and respect. My three children were born here, yet they can’t get Austrian citizenship. I own two restaurants, employ ten people, but I recently needed an unemployed Austrian to buy me equipment at Media Markt, because they wouldn’t sell on credit to a Croatian. You come from the Netherlands, and they will call you Dutch. Anybody from the south is an ‘ausländer’, and therefore, part of the problem. Do you see how little things like this, this constant lack of respect and power play, tear up a society? Can you imagine the stuff I hear and have to respond to, from people at the bar these days?’

I can’t I guess. There are issues on the table here, that are too big for my head. There is a sense of injustice in the air, that makes me sad and angry. But outside the street still seems as colourful and alive.

Who’s to say what is problematic and what is not? And I realise that hidden in the many quotes and impressions there are melody lines, to help us understand this neighbourhood better, to sense its potential and its energies.

Could we work more with migrant entrepreneurs? Can we find ways to make tacit forms of discrimination visible, in a non-offensive way? Can we help a little less, and co-create a little more?

Suddenly 2,5 hours of reflection time in the train back to Graz seem awfully short.

Remko Berkhout