Cheryll Barron and the Atoms of Democracy by John A. A. Logan
While
still a teenager, Cheryll Barron was sent out by a New Delhi magazine to
conduct her first ever interview.
It
was with Wernher von Braun, inventor of the V-2 rocket for Nazi Germany, and,
later, the Saturn V rocket for the United States; a member of the SS who,
following World War 2 was moved to the United States as part of Operation
Paperclip, where he developed the rockets that launched America’s first space
satellite and first series of moon missions.
According
to NASA, von Braun was the “Father of Rocket Science”.
Barron’s
article on von Braun, published in 1973, was entitled, “The Man Who Put Man on
the Moon”.
It
began,
“Somewhat
guiltily, I ignored the shocking pink placard hung on the doorknob, reading ‘DO
NOT DISTURB’ in three languages, and rang the bell for the second time in 15
minutes. Expecting a long wait, I was midway through shifting my weight from
one foot to the other when the door opened very suddenly – just wide enough to
reveal a pair of distressed blue eyes preceded by tortoise-shell rimmed
spectacles balancing precariously at the end of a tanned, aquiline nose. I was
face to face with the man who, more than any other scientist, was responsible
for putting an American astronaut into space and on the moon.
‘Dr
Wernher von Braun?’ I asked tentatively – and put in my request for an
exclusive interview. Quite impossible, I was told. He was up to his ears in
preparation for a lecture he was to give that evening. We argued. No, he was
quite sure he couldn’t spare me half an hour – not even 15 minutes. I
persisted, largely because his most exasperated ‘no’s’ were considerably
softened by a gentle, eminently gracious manner. It worked. I was to wait for
him in the lobby, then accompany him to the lecture in his car…”
During
that car journey, the well-prepared teenaged Barron fearlessly and relentlessly
quizzes the 61-year-old ex-SS Nazi von Braun on his childhood interest in
astronomy, his scientific-minded mother, the progressive farm boarding-school
where he was educated, the book by Herman Oberth which he read at 15 entitled
‘The Rocket into Planetary Space’ and its tremendous influence on him…the
letter he wrote to Oberth aged 18 which led to Oberth inviting von Braun to
come and work with him…the later development of the V-2 flying bomb under von
Braun’s direction…von Braun’s surrender to the Americans in 1944…von Braun’s
development of America’s first artificial satellite, Explorer 1, in orbit
around the earth…and von Braun’s development of the Saturn rockets for
Programme Apollo, which led to man’s first landing on the moon…
By
the time the “luscious limousine” ride is over, Barron has her exclusive
interview, and I’m left wondering how much energy von Braun had left in the
tank for the lecture he was supposed to be giving that evening…
***********
Let
us fast-forward now through 42 years of a life…a writing life…
During
those 42 years, Barron will work and write non-stop, from India to Britain to
the United States…
In
1995, New York publisher, Scribner, will release her book, Dreamers of the
Valley of Plenty: A Portrait of the Napa Valley
The
New York Times review of Dreamers will say: 'A sensitive writer of considerable
erudition, with a fine ear for dialogue and nuance.'
The
San Francisco Examiner review will describe it: 'A cheeky, hip and richly
detailed exploration of how foreigners have influenced the famous (Californian)
valley . . . an unvarnished look at the valley's fascinating, multinational
residents.'
Barron
doesn’t stop to look back then but barrels on, barrels on, into new areas, new
times…keeps writing and working…producing articles for The Economist, The
Financial Times, The Statesman, Business Week, The Guardian, The New York Times,
Prospect, The Observer…for Management Today, for Salon…for nearly every big-name
publication going…on subjects from British Steel, to drug injuries caused by
Big Pharma, to How Deepak Chopra Fleeced the West, to the destruction of the
Royal Mail…
Somehow,
over years, the constant work and the travels lead her to a fascination with
one country in particular, Switzerland…and specifically with the engine of unique
democracy behind its successes…
First,
in 2011, Barron publishes, on Amazon Kindle only (entering her Indie Author
period), this travelogue which delves into the Swiss psyche:
And then, in 2014, she publishes this on Kindle:
Enemies: A Cash-Strapped Traveller's Search for the Secret of Switzerland's Extreme Equality
(The Little Country that Could, Book 1)
“Enemies”…is
almost a Tale of Two Cities, except that one of them is classed only as a
town…it is almost a latter-day female Gulliver’s examination of the wars
between a new Lilliput and Blefuscudia, except there is no war…there are
castles, and suits of armour…but there is no war…the castles in these two Swiss
towns/cities not much more than a stone’s throw from one another are only
historic, or historic-satire in one case…the armour and weapons safely tucked
away in a rarely visited museum…
“Enemies”
is an examination of the town of Olten and the city of Solothurn, in the canton
of Solothurn in North West Switzerland.
Olten
Solothurn
"Enemies" is written, though 40 years later, by the spirit of that same tough/confident
teenager who hung around outside Wernher von Braun’s hotel room in India in 1973,
refusing to take No Answer for an answer…in fact that may be the unique arrow
in Barron’s stock-in-trade quiver…the refusal, though often an ever-so-polite
refusal, to ever take no answer for an answer…
In
this new book, she goes out into Switzerland, lives there for months, interviews
people, meets people, asks questions, probes further and further…sometimes with
the journalist’s eye, sometimes the economist’s, sometimes the historian’s…sometimes,
yes, from the viewpoint of the relatively cash-strapped traveller, which makes
this a great and refreshing change from the other well-sponsored travelogues
produced on publisher’s stipend…no, this is an Indie Travelogue…and sometimes,
it is the gem-stone precision art of the novelist that Barron suddenly brings
to the examination, with chapter titles like “A Headless Horseman in Holy
Stone” and “Left-Wing Writers and Freezing Whores”…or themes like the democratic
rights of the dead to remain buried, or not, as the case may be:
“Egalitarian
exhumation – I mean, equal rights to having what remains of your relations dead
for a century or two dug up for an identity check – was not a cause that had
ever occurred to me…If DNA analysis can be deployed to determine which are
Disteli’s bones, should they be reburied ceremonially (after being dug up to
make way for a new underground car park)…?
‘They
all knew him. Drank with him and fought in silly little wars together.’
‘Their
graves would have to be saved, too. With DNA analysis. All one
hundred-and-ninety-nine of them.’
‘Equality
and fraternity.’
‘It
could take a while.’
There
was more to be gleaned from the imaginary conversation. In it, as in life,
Oltners seemed most apt to honour Disteli below ground, as if paying obeisance
to an expired mole…”
Barron
had originally come across this town of Olten because it is a train hub for
northern Switzerland.
“Olten
– because of that railway station seen by the town itself as its chief raison
d’etre – was supposed to be my jumping-off place, my diving board for exploring
Switzerland.
I
was meant to be there only to go somewhere else.”
Barron’s
Monty-Python-esque, surreal visits to the tourist offices of both Olten and
later, Solothurn, can also yield good information, as in this visit to the
Olten office where the Geschaftsfuhrerin, or executive director, Maria Sagesser
“strides in on her long model’s legs to bring me a surprisingly decent espresso
squirted out by a machine with robotic dispatch. When she is reseated on her
side of the meeting-table, I notice that her lambent large eyes could be
cut-outs designed to give glimpses of the river flickering past the plate glass
to her left in the pale, elongated boardroom lit by refracted light from the
water. She is pleased by my keen interest in the framed black-and-white
sketches on the walls. ‘Martin Disteli,’ is her reply to my question about
their provenance.
Tourism
is new here, she says…
‘The
city administrators do not think that people from abroad are interested in
Olten.’
Maria
concedes with a carefully neutral expression that Solothurn, the capital of the
canton to which Olten belongs – also called Solothurn – sucks in nearly all the
tourists in these parts.
‘We
feel they are like “the big Solothurn” to
which we have to give so much money! And we’re always the losers.’
This
is said with calm restraint and good humour.
‘So
how can Olten Tourismus hope to compete?’
‘Our
location is better. If you go to Solothurn you can first stop here. Here is
much more authentic Switzerland. It’s just the way it is…the difference between
Solothurn and Olten is that here the people have always worked. Here we have
the culture of the working people. Then they got the money from our taxes…for
me, it’s not a competition. They have some things, we have others.’
Oh,
but the rivalry is fierce. Like a younger sibling who defines herself in relation
to a glamorous much-made-of older sister, Oltners cannot seem to stop
mentioning Solothurn. ‘If Solothurn had had a Disteli, his bones would have
long ago been resting in a mausoleum,’ Urs says to the other Urs, in the Capus
story (Alex Capus, author of Leon and Louise, and native of Olten) about the
disinterment dilemma. In another sketch in the (Capus) collection, the narrator
is cycling across the Sahara with his friend Guido when they are accosted by a
blue-veiled Tuareg riding a camel. ‘He gestured with his scimitar at the
license plates of our bikes and said, ‘You are Swiss from Solothurn.’ He means,
the canton. They confirm his guess.
‘From
where in Solothurn?’
I
shrug: ‘Well, Olten.’
Said
the Tuareg: ‘Ah, Olten, I know it well! I lived there for three years. I know
Olten-Hammer, Dancing Tropicans, Coop City…’
Galaxies
of meaning reside in those two words of a native son. ‘Well, Olten’”
And
here begins Barron’s exhumatory examination of the centuries of bitter enmity
between these two north-western Swiss towns, only 25 miles apart. One,
Solothurn, with a history of riches earned by the sale of “Swiss flesh”, in the
form of mercenaries (the best soldiers in the world according to both Caesar
and Napoleon); the other, Olten, standing in the shadows, and perhaps, it is
suggested, even being repeatedly burned down by agents of its hated rival,
Solothurn, during those medieval years when Olten might have been able to “get
ahead” otherwise and forge its own destiny, but instead is kept in the shadow
of its wealthier, more powerful neighbour, kept in subjection for centuries by
these neighbouring overlords, until seismic political and social changes sweep
Europe…an upsurge swell in the irrepressible spirit of democracy itself…which would
set in motion the beginning of the release of this poorer neighbour from its
shackles, readying it for the oncoming industrial revolution with its
egalitarian hard-work opportunities which would align perfectly with the
sweat-toiled peasant spirit of the true “Schweiss” Oltner…
These
were all things I knew nothing about at all before reading Barron’s book.
I
saw Switzerland at a distance only, perhaps through that fictional lens of
Graham Greene/Orson Welles in The Third Man’s famous cable-car speech:
“You
know what the fellow said – in Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they
had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo,
Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love,
they had five hundred years of democracy and peace – and what did that produce?
The cuckoo clock.”
Yes,
I’d always bought that line. Switzerland – bankers, watches, cuckoo
clocks…maybe Laurel and Hardy yodelling…
I’ve
never been to Switzerland, so at least I had that excuse, but what is
fascinating is that half the Switzerland Barron went to and lived in for
weeks/months at a time, did seem to also believe itself to be this Public Image
Greene/Welles cuckoo clock version of Switzerland…judging by Barron’s book, half
the Swiss she met did seem to live in that world of castles, banks, watches,
clocks…it’s just that there’s another hidden half of Switzerland, perhaps the
“peasant heart”, the workers’ heart…the “more authentic Switzerland” as
Sagesser says…and, as Barron investigated, she seemed to find that, yes, these
two halves of Switzerland do hate each other…always have! And yet, this is the
mystery she seeks to uncover…they are “happy haters” and cooperate together in
what Barron believes to be such an exemplary model of democracy that it is
almost criminal neglect to not at least spread word of this working model
and…perhaps dream of applying its successes elsewhere?
The
nitty-gritty, earthiest parts of “Enemies”, though, are just as fascinating as
Barron’s greater context/thesis on these two towns as examples of functioning
Atoms of Democracy: her struggles to find affordable accommodation in a country
where a visitor’s purse “emptied seemingly in a blink”, encounters with
toothless pickpocket dopers and neo-medieval shopping mall pageant musicians…a
hotel manager whose hobby is to dress as a human-size Apple iPhone…the lofty
and disengaged staff of the Museum of War where visitors are left alone to roam
rooms of used armour and weaponry where the blood can almost be smelled…the
Tourismus bureau with its gauntlet of junior “malevolent Cherub” and executive
“Uber Cherub” staff possessing “Shakespearean first names”…descriptions of
solitary traveller’s necessities like haircuts, meals…run ins with super-posh
government agency representatives who bray loudly about their mothers’ and
aunts’ preference for “Swiss maids”…there is a delightful willingness in Barron
to meet affably with such folk and then report openly on their snobbishness to
us, the Faithful Reader…(again this is a unique facet of a low-budget,
micro-budget in fact, travelogue…a constant worry about each "penny" spent, not
kept secret from the reader, but passed on openly…), and of course there is the
constant revelation, through the residents of Olten, and of Solothurn, whom
Barron meets, that they do in fact, indeed, at some level, really hate each
other…with faces that can become “acidic” when speaking of the enemy…bringing
an “unmissable glint in the eyes”…
It
seems to be an ingrained, trained, inborne hatred, as can be seen, of course,
between many of this world’s towns/cities/countries…for reasons of history,
economics, politics, society etc…but in this case unique because, as Barron
terms them, these are the “Happy Haters” of the world…the cooperative democrats
of enmity…set amid an historic landscape of burned churches, destroyed castles…but
living in a present that has somehow culminated in…peace.
And
there, on the philosophical side of this book is the puzzling thing to be
unravelled, the thesis on Democracy that has Barron begin to interpret much of
the ancient and modern history she learns of Olten and Solothurn, and passes to
us, as “a piece of a larger and older pattern of combating unjust domination on
every front. It was in Olten that I realised that the history of democracy was
best characterised as a saga of acting on
resentment of unfairness – rather than steady progress towards realising
ideals of freedom, equality and brotherly love…So
a small patch of earth in a small country gives us a tale of two cities whose
citizens have disliked each other for centuries. They tend their mutual
loathing as if guarding a sacred eternal flame. Yet they are both part of the
same solidly prosperous canton in the world’s wealthiest country, are
administered by the same elected representatives, share the same pool of taxes
for the upkeep of civic fabric, and public services like their police overlap.
Neither
city is in the position of Muslims living in India, governed by a Hindu
majority. The people of their canton are not like the Belgians of the north and
south straining to survive as a single unit. Not like Catholics or Protestants
living in a part of Ireland or Northern Ireland in which the other denomination
dominates government and the cultural environment. Not like parts of the Middle
East or Africa with tribes eternally at war.
Oltners
and Solothurners live on equal terms, do not kill each other, and advertise
their mutual antipathy with pride. In a lifetime of travelling that has included
living on three continents, I have encountered nothing like this.
Yes,
their relationship is indeed the strangeness at the heart of the uniqueness of
Switzerland.”
“Enemies”,
available on Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Enemies-cash-strapped-travellers-Switzerlands-equality-ebook/dp/B00PZ8FHG4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1444216789&sr=8-1&keywords=enemies+cheryll+barron
Amazon UK:
Cheryll Barron’s Blog: http://post-gutenberg.com/
Comments
Oleoghain, I remember you writing to say that the Switzerland you visited on holiday some years ago was nothing like the one I depicted in the Jung book. Neither book describes what the typical tourist or expense account traveller recognises as Switzerland, not even the most intelligent and perceptive ones. So here's a puzzle: why do so many people (unlike you) -- and publishers -- want most to see their versions of a country confirmed by a travel writer, no matter how inaccurate? Why the resistance to seeing it as it truly is -- in an account carefully substantiated by years of reading and 'boots on the ground' research? Investigations furiously resisted by the Swiss, I must add?
Before I left on my first cash-strapped expedition, an old Schweitzer diplomat on the verge of retirement warned me that the Swiss dislike journalists or any traveller behaving like one; do not themselves ask other people questions -- and view foreigners making inquiries with the 'natural mistrust of mountain people'. So, while no one there has made any complaint about inaccuracy, even when I have invited these, they are pretending that the books were never written.
But I intend to finish my series, no matter how long it takes -- 'barrelling away' as John's Monty Python Gulliver.
I didn't have my own fuzzy view of myself confirmed in John's profile. It was something of a shock to read. I'd never have thought of assembling those bits and pieces the way he did -- but that's why he is always worth paying attention to, on almost any subject. He does not think in cliches; is an imaginative and stimulating lateral thinker, a quality that shines through his stories.
I love the title for this post. The 'atoms of democracy' were precisely what I was looking for in Switzerland, only it never would never have occurred to me to put it like that. Confirmation of our opinions, intuitions, beliefs and so on is always welcome -- but I read mainly for discovery, and to be surprised.
My interest in Swiss democracy, as it happens, began with a search for a way of turning jointly owned sites like this one into an alternative to the traditional publishing model. If this AE site were a lot bigger and everyone had a small financial stake in it, could it -- eventually -- help to put food on the table, in writers' families? How?
How do you make genuinely democratic cooperatives work? The Swiss are the experts. They govern themselves with 'extreme democracy'. The whole country -- not just the government -- is run like a giant cooperative. The two dominant grocery chains. The railway. Schools in many if not most cantons. The most successful banks -- which aren't the famous multinational ones run by 'greedy bankers' in Zurich, but actual people 's banks ... I didn't want to answer these questions with a dry text that read like history, political science or economics, but through conversations and by bringing Switzerland to life. Which meant turning myself into Gulliver -- another startling Logan idea (and this one makes me giggle like a witless seven year-old).
'Enemies' shows two Swiss cities that loathe each other cooperating -- somehow -- for their mutual enrichment. Switzerland is the world's richest country.
Sorry for such a long comment, ... another one. As you see, I've got a bit carried away. ... Won't be able to comment again until Wednesday.