Ideas in the Government Dry Up Like a River

‘From the very look in those eyes, it was clear that he would soon die. His body resembled a dilapidated old house from which all installations had been removed and now waits to be demolished to the foundation’ – this is how Murakami sees the dying old man, and this is how I perceive this government and this country.

The installations, once eaten by rust, are actually already consumed, neither head, nor brain, nor wisdom, and the heart and soul are gasping for breath…
The crisis has long since melted into recession, the recession is slowly transitioning into depression, for which there is generally no cure, and if one is found, it takes a long time to heal, and the government has no idea what to do or where to go. Sometimes they would cut salaries, sometimes they wouldn’t. Sometimes they would tax banks, yet they wouldn’t. Sometimes they would raise VAT, yet again they wouldn’t. Sometimes they would ‘unfreeze’ electricity and energy prices, the next morning they wouldn’t. Sometimes they would take from farmers, the next day they swear that it doesn’t even cross their mind. They would pay for the damage caused by floods, after a night’s sleep they threaten due to the rising price of flour and bread. Sometimes capitalism, sometimes administrative socialism, depending on the day. Without the necessary ‘installations’, the government clearly forgets that trial balloons are expensive, ineffective, unconvincing, fray nerves, and genuinely prove to voters that the government, even in the agony of dying, is not ready to admit that it knows nothing.

In that panicked vacuum without sense, the minister with pronounced biceps manages to save a million kuna, in the ghost town of once-famous kings there is no work, everyone who can escapes to the so-called better future somewhere they think they have it, but it is important to build a fountain worth 4.6 million kuna!? Let the water flow since there are no other signs of life! While the German machine grows by almost 9 percent, and Viktor Orban, whatever one thinks of him, radically turns away from the IMF for himself and what is best for his country, (thus he thinks and acts!) in Croatia, even the most important thing – tourism, happens by itself. There are no planned actions (unless someone considers ‘ambushes’ in front of cars in awkward English a thoughtful, well-studied economic move), nor a plan nor evidence that we know what and how much we want from tourism. So how could we then ask the government to clearly and in articulate Croatian explain what the chances are that in the next five to six years we will grow more than the dying 2 percent? And why is that so? And who is to blame for that? And who will fix it?

In our microcosm, where we have not even secured the foundations for the most basic reproduction, global discussions about forms of future growth seem millions of light-years away. No, we do not discuss that. Because that is a higher level of civilization development. Global intellectuals have written about a new economy centered on man, gross national happiness, some other intangible values, and a more balanced world than the one we live in. They do not talk about surpluses, cuts, consumption, econometric models, mathematics, efficiency, productivity; they talk about justice and fairness, security, tolerance. Perhaps these discussions are indeed proof that one era, the era of ruthless capital rule, is finally dying out. Or perhaps it is just some kind of intermezzo that allows the socialist intellect to flourish only until capital recovers, and in a few years everything will be the same.

However, wouldn’t we, at this time when we are at yet another beginning, at a new zero, be able to initiate some new, fairer, non-corrupt economy ourselves? Wouldn’t we, with our own intelligence, be able to conclude that we have a God-given country, rich in resources? Wouldn’t we be able to devise growth above 6 percent, sufficient to repay debts and lead a somewhat normal life? No, we will, as before, wind our springs, and once again, daily tread the well-worn paths of failure, for those are the only ones we know. Long ago, The Boss sang: ‘Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true, or is it something worse that sends me down to the river, though I know the river is dry…’