Ants and Grasshoppers

Anyone remember the fable of the ant and the grasshopper? The ant, industrious and bursting with forward planning, spends all summer gathering in provender against the cold of the winter that – although unimaginably far away – it knows will come soon enough. The grasshopper meanwhile hops and sings and has a merry time, entertaining itself and others (whom does the ant entertain?) with not a thought for tomorrow, never mind December.

But when the weather turns cold and all good insects have to be indoors the grasshopper finds itself with nothing to eat. Then it remembers that boring old ant, who is bound to have storerooms stacked to the ceiling with yumminesses. Off he goes and taps wistfully on the door of the ant. Be off, commands the ant. You are idle and improvident. Where were you when I was working all summer, hm?

Somehow I feel the north European states see themselves as hard-working ants, now called upon by their south European cousins to help them out of their corner – they, Greeks, Italians, Spaniards, Portuguese – who have not paid their taxes but wish to be rescued by the taxes dutifully handed over in the north.

I wonder how the south sees it.

And I wonder, if our economies all collapse, what will happen to publishing. Least of the world's worries, of course.