A tale of two systems

OR

"A short illustrated history of the progress of the University of Frankfurt as seen through the eyes of a disinterested foreigner."

"Really?", exclaimed my besuited, bebooted course-mate with incredulity. "You are going to ze student bar? On ze uzzer campus?! Haff you no idea how dangerous zis is?". He was genuinely concerned for my safety. The prospect of a drink on "the other campus", a mere ten minute cycle ride away, was enough to send a murmur of apprehension and disapproval through the assembled German students. They knew it not. They had seen it not. But they had heard tell, and what they had heard they had not liked. Oh no.

Thus begins my short illustrated history of the Other-ness of the two campuses of Frankfurt University. To each, the other is anathema. The very essence of either (a) exactly why progress must be halted and capitalism reigned in, or (b) exactly why the old systems must make way for a new, brighter, more outward-looking Frankfurt; depending on whom you talk to.

I'll start, if I may, at the beginning: a short glossary to help the peruser of this history understand the key terms used herein.

Bockenheim n. /'bokənhɑɪm/ The site of the first building of the Frankfurt Unversität in 18-hundred-and-something. Now a crumbling, left-wing relic of the 1980's Germany of mullets and oversized knitwear we know from German language textbooks.

Westend n. /'vƐstƐnt/ A former American army base, now the most spangly whizzbang campus in Europe. A centre for conferences, corporate sponsorship and private enterprise. Where I study.

The most important thing to know about Bockenheim campus, is that it is doomed: by 2011, the university wants to have everyone studying in shiny new buildings on the Westend campus, and is not shy about making this desire known. From the look of the Bockenheim campus, this plan to abandon the place has been agreed upon by those who hold the purse strings for quite some time. The place is falling apart. In some cases literally. The centrepiece of the campus is a semi-derelict tower-block, known only as der Turm (the tower), in which all the left-wing subjects have their home: philosophy, politics, sociology, education etc.
The image shown here is Microsoft's satellite view. The place is literally covered in grafitti, mostly political: a mix of anti-Nazi, pro-Israeli (interestingly, the left-wing view here is not anti-Israel like in England) and anti-snob-culture. Much of what happens there is student-led. There are regular (occasionally tense) protests about student fees, equality of access etc. and at least three student-run cafes and bars, all of which are mind-bogglingly cheap and very laid back
(a notable example of this is a place known only by the generic descriptor "Bar abend" wherein the Apfelwein (a local speciality) is €1 a glass, the staff are paid in booze and the doors are open until gone 6).

Contrast this with Campus Westend.

This is my campus, and the location of subjects such as Economics (the tongue-twistingly-entitled Wirtschaftswissenchaften), Law and Finance. The campus opened a mere two years ago, and the novelty of the place is evident everywhere you look. The buildings are beautiful, the lawns are still being grown, and technology reigns supreme. The library is a high-tech wonder, with automatic blinds, individually operated reading lights and student-card-operated lockers. The campus is an available real-estate for private enterprise. Many of the shops and cafes are privately-owned (and 30% more expensive) as is the Alma Mater of my new course, the House of Finance. In this magisterial building, shown left, the lecture rooms are named after the banks which paid for them (leading to odd-sounding timetables: Macroeconomics, 2pm in Deutschebank) and equipped with cameras so powerful they can read handwritten notes from any seat in the room and beam them onto up to 3 projectors at the front. They have their own private security (never a phrase associated with good things for some reason) and students have to use the back stairs, to ensure the lifts are always available for professors and other visiting dignitaries.

The campus as a whole is designed to be a beacon for international conferences and symposia (The Deutsche Bank Prize in Financial Economics was held there last week, with much fanfare and free grub).

Needless to say, the restless lefties on Campus Bockenheim are not best impressed, as is witnessed by this message I came across written on a wall of the infamous Turm.

This point was palpably proved (or disproved, depending on who you talk to) by a recent 'occupation' of the aforementioned House by a gang of spray-can wielding Bockenheimers. Official accounts of what happened vary but, by anyone's measure, the results were messy and not entirely non-contact.

This, in large part, explains why my coursemate was horrified at the prospect of me spending a Thursday night in the company of radical layabouts, and why I have to shuffle my feet a little whenever talk amongst my flatmates and new friends turns to the miserable future of their beloved campus. I am, without question, part of the disease and not of the cure. I'm exactly the kind of yuppie foreigner the new campus was designed to attract. I'm studying exactly the kind of cold-hearted subject my Social Science-studying stablemates love to rail against.

I would answer, were I able to adequately expressly myself in this new mothertongue of mine, that I hope to be somewhat different in my studying of Economics. That I will always be bearing in mind that welfare does not equal money, and that what is best for the community as a whole can very well be disastrous for an individual, and that nice people (like me, I like to think) need to be on the inside of the machine where they can influence things for the better, rather than on the outside, where ability to make things different is limited to writing about injustice on walls.

I'm going to close this potted history with my favourite thing I've read so far in my study of Economics. It comes from John Stuart Mill, and seems to be exactly the kind of thing I was thinking about when I tried, internally, to justify myself to the angry Bockenheimers:

"The same persons who cry down Logic will generally warn you against Political Economy. It is unfeeling, they will tell you. It recognises unpleasant facts. For my part, the most unfeeling thing I know of is the law of gravitation: it breaks the neck of the best and most amiable person without scruple, if he forgets for a single moment to give heed to it. The winds and waves too are very unfeeling. Would you advise those who go to sea to deny the winds and waves--or to make use of them, and find the means of guarding against their dangers? My advice to you is to study the great writers on Political Economy, and hold firmly by whatever in them you find true; and depend upon it that if you are not selfish or hard-hearted already, Political Economy will not make you so."

Amazing.

Rob