Questões de Inglês

GERMANY IN THE MIDDLE AGES
By Simon Winder

[1]     The optimism of the central Middle Ages (the 'high' Middle Ages as they are sometimes called, with the implication of a top point on a graph or on a
rollercoaster) comes sadly undone for Germany in the fourteenth century. The crusades had more or less given up and the Holy Roman Emperor was no
longer the powerful figure he had been, but life for the hundreds of self-supporting, fairly small-scale regions of Germany had continued to be tolerable,
with a rising population, reasonable security and established systems of justice. All this changed for the unhappy generations arriving after 1280 or so.
One striking fact that cannot be ignored when spending too much time wandering around local churches in Germany is, through the sheer density of
memorials, the unfairness of your fate based on when you were born. Sculptures and, later, paintings stare back at you asserting or even boasting their
subjects' secure, civic, prominent and enjoyable existence. But other birth dates intersect with the most ghastly events. Indeed, more often than not
memorials tend to come from prosperous times and a lack of memorials means something has·gone seriously wrong – that the community has temporarily
lost its enthusiasm for marking its own providential happiness. We are ourselves of course acutely aware of this in the twentieth century, where specific
age groups suffered millions of deaths while in some parts of Europe others could come through almost unscathed [ilesos] – and·in others of course, such
as Poland or the western Soviet Union in the early 1940s, there was no generation left undevastated.
[2]     The first half of the fourteenth century was a comparable nightmare, with similar or worse percentages of dead (albeit in a much smaller overall
population) to those experienced in Central and Eastern Europe in the Second World War (1939-1945). In some places the Thirty Years War was to offer
something similar. Within the period for which we have worthwhile records these three points (the 1340s, the 1630s and the 1940s) are the worst times
to have been alive in Central Europe's history.
[3]     The crisis of the fourteenth century began with an immense famine. It seems to have rained and rained and rained. Crops completely failed over huge
areas. It was so wet that salt could not be dried to preserve meat. Transport was always too poor to allow for much food to arrive from non-afflicted areas,
but in any event there were hardly any of these. People were driven to eat the seed corn needed for the following year's crop. It has been suggested that
the story of Hansel and Gretel stemmed from this awful time. Germany was at the heart of a general Northern European torture. There had always been
famines, but this was the one that became known as the Great Famine, killing off an unknown but massive number of people. Having absorbed such a
nightmarish blow, Germans then had to face the Black Death in 1349 – a still mysterious epidemic that swept across Eurasia, killing many millions. The
statistics are conjectural but prosperous places such as Bremen and Hamburg seem to have lost up to two-thirds of their inhabitants, whole villages ceased
to exist and were·never re-founded, entire regions became depopulated. The combination of the Great Famine and the Black Death seems to have reduced
the number of Germans by about forty per cent. It is perhaps the event in Europe's history least possible to visualize. Some historians have suggested that
Europe's civilization, that of a vigorous intellectual life, of the great cathedrals, of an expansive and outward-looking world, should be viewed as coming
to an end by 1350. Buildings such as Bamberg Cathedral should perhaps be seen much as we look at Machu Picchu, as fascinating remnants of a dead
culture, even if in Europe's case they were re-used by subsequent inhabitants. Though probably too extreme, it is a useful way of thinking about just how
much we really have in common, as “Europeans,” with this earlier period – we yearn for continuity as it makes us feel happy, but perhaps that continuity
is there in a more tentative way than we would like to think.

Adapted from Chapter 3 of the book Germania.

GERMANY IN THE MIDDLE AGES
By Simon Winder

[1]     The optimism of the central Middle Ages (the 'high' Middle Ages as they are sometimes called, with the implication of a top point on a graph or on a
rollercoaster) comes sadly undone for Germany in the fourteenth century. The crusades had more or less given up and the Holy Roman Emperor was no
longer the powerful figure he had been, but life for the hundreds of self-supporting, fairly small-scale regions of Germany had continued to be tolerable,
with a rising population, reasonable security and established systems of justice. All this changed for the unhappy generations arriving after 1280 or so.
One striking fact that cannot be ignored when spending too much time wandering around local churches in Germany is, through the sheer density of
memorials, the unfairness of your fate based on when you were born. Sculptures and, later, paintings stare back at you asserting or even boasting their
subjects' secure, civic, prominent and enjoyable existence. But other birth dates intersect with the most ghastly events. Indeed, more often than not
memorials tend to come from prosperous times and a lack of memorials means something has·gone seriously wrong – that the community has temporarily
lost its enthusiasm for marking its own providential happiness. We are ourselves of course acutely aware of this in the twentieth century, where specific
age groups suffered millions of deaths while in some parts of Europe others could come through almost unscathed [ilesos] – and·in others of course, such
as Poland or the western Soviet Union in the early 1940s, there was no generation left undevastated.
[2]     The first half of the fourteenth century was a comparable nightmare, with similar or worse percentages of dead (albeit in a much smaller overall
population) to those experienced in Central and Eastern Europe in the Second World War (1939-1945). In some places the Thirty Years War was to offer
something similar. Within the period for which we have worthwhile records these three points (the 1340s, the 1630s and the 1940s) are the worst times
to have been alive in Central Europe's history.
[3]     The crisis of the fourteenth century began with an immense famine. It seems to have rained and rained and rained. Crops completely failed over huge
areas. It was so wet that salt could not be dried to preserve meat. Transport was always too poor to allow for much food to arrive from non-afflicted areas,
but in any event there were hardly any of these. People were driven to eat the seed corn needed for the following year's crop. It has been suggested that
the story of Hansel and Gretel stemmed from this awful time. Germany was at the heart of a general Northern European torture. There had always been
famines, but this was the one that became known as the Great Famine, killing off an unknown but massive number of people. Having absorbed such a
nightmarish blow, Germans then had to face the Black Death in 1349 – a still mysterious epidemic that swept across Eurasia, killing many millions. The
statistics are conjectural but prosperous places such as Bremen and Hamburg seem to have lost up to two-thirds of their inhabitants, whole villages ceased
to exist and were·never re-founded, entire regions became depopulated. The combination of the Great Famine and the Black Death seems to have reduced
the number of Germans by about forty per cent. It is perhaps the event in Europe's history least possible to visualize. Some historians have suggested that
Europe's civilization, that of a vigorous intellectual life, of the great cathedrals, of an expansive and outward-looking world, should be viewed as coming
to an end by 1350. Buildings such as Bamberg Cathedral should perhaps be seen much as we look at Machu Picchu, as fascinating remnants of a dead
culture, even if in Europe's case they were re-used by subsequent inhabitants. Though probably too extreme, it is a useful way of thinking about just how
much we really have in common, as “Europeans,” with this earlier period – we yearn for continuity as it makes us feel happy, but perhaps that continuity
is there in a more tentative way than we would like to think.

Adapted from Chapter 3 of the book Germania.

GERMANY IN THE MIDDLE AGES
By Simon Winder

[1]     The optimism of the central Middle Ages (the 'high' Middle Ages as they are sometimes called, with the implication of a top point on a graph or on a
rollercoaster) comes sadly undone for Germany in the fourteenth century. The crusades had more or less given up and the Holy Roman Emperor was no
longer the powerful figure he had been, but life for the hundreds of self-supporting, fairly small-scale regions of Germany had continued to be tolerable,
with a rising population, reasonable security and established systems of justice. All this changed for the unhappy generations arriving after 1280 or so.
One striking fact that cannot be ignored when spending too much time wandering around local churches in Germany is, through the sheer density of
memorials, the unfairness of your fate based on when you were born. Sculptures and, later, paintings stare back at you asserting or even boasting their
subjects' secure, civic, prominent and enjoyable existence. But other birth dates intersect with the most ghastly events. Indeed, more often than not
memorials tend to come from prosperous times and a lack of memorials means something has·gone seriously wrong – that the community has temporarily
lost its enthusiasm for marking its own providential happiness. We are ourselves of course acutely aware of this in the twentieth century, where specific
age groups suffered millions of deaths while in some parts of Europe others could come through almost unscathed [ilesos] – and·in others of course, such
as Poland or the western Soviet Union in the early 1940s, there was no generation left undevastated.
[2]     The first half of the fourteenth century was a comparable nightmare, with similar or worse percentages of dead (albeit in a much smaller overall
population) to those experienced in Central and Eastern Europe in the Second World War (1939-1945). In some places the Thirty Years War was to offer
something similar. Within the period for which we have worthwhile records these three points (the 1340s, the 1630s and the 1940s) are the worst times
to have been alive in Central Europe's history.
[3]     The crisis of the fourteenth century began with an immense famine. It seems to have rained and rained and rained. Crops completely failed over huge
areas. It was so wet that salt could not be dried to preserve meat. Transport was always too poor to allow for much food to arrive from non-afflicted areas,
but in any event there were hardly any of these. People were driven to eat the seed corn needed for the following year's crop. It has been suggested that
the story of Hansel and Gretel stemmed from this awful time. Germany was at the heart of a general Northern European torture. There had always been
famines, but this was the one that became known as the Great Famine, killing off an unknown but massive number of people. Having absorbed such a
nightmarish blow, Germans then had to face the Black Death in 1349 – a still mysterious epidemic that swept across Eurasia, killing many millions. The
statistics are conjectural but prosperous places such as Bremen and Hamburg seem to have lost up to two-thirds of their inhabitants, whole villages ceased
to exist and were·never re-founded, entire regions became depopulated. The combination of the Great Famine and the Black Death seems to have reduced
the number of Germans by about forty per cent. It is perhaps the event in Europe's history least possible to visualize. Some historians have suggested that
Europe's civilization, that of a vigorous intellectual life, of the great cathedrals, of an expansive and outward-looking world, should be viewed as coming
to an end by 1350. Buildings such as Bamberg Cathedral should perhaps be seen much as we look at Machu Picchu, as fascinating remnants of a dead
culture, even if in Europe's case they were re-used by subsequent inhabitants. Though probably too extreme, it is a useful way of thinking about just how
much we really have in common, as “Europeans,” with this earlier period – we yearn for continuity as it makes us feel happy, but perhaps that continuity
is there in a more tentative way than we would like to think.

Adapted from Chapter 3 of the book Germania.

THE PERILS OF POLYGAMY

[1]     Men in South Sudan typically marry as often as their wealth—often measured in cattle—will allow. Perhaps 40% of marriages are polygamous. “In
[our] culture, the more family you have, the more people respect you,” says William, a young IT specialist in search of his second wife (his name, like some
others in this article, has been changed). Having studied in America and come back to his home village, he finds that he is wealthy by local standards. So
why be content with just one bride?
[2]     Few South Sudanese see the connection between these matrimonial customs and the country’s horrific civil war. If you ask them the reason for the
violence, locals will blame tribalism, greedy politicians, weak institutions and perhaps the oil wealth which gives warlords something to fight over. All true,
but not the whole story.
[3]     Wherever it is widely practised, polygamy destabilizes society, largely because it is a form of inequality which creates an urgent distress in the hearts,
and loins, of young men. If a rich man has a Lamborghini, that does not mean that a poor man has to walk, for the supply of cars is not fixed. By contrast,
every time a rich man takes an extra wife, another poor man must remain single. If the richest and most powerful 10% of men have, say, four wives each,
the bottom 30% of men cannot marry. Young men will take desperate measures to avoid this state.
[4]     This is one of the reasons why the Arab Spring erupted, why the jihadists of Boko Haram and Islamic State were able to conquer swathes of Nigeria,
Iraq and Syria, and why the polygamous parts of Indonesia and Haiti are so turbulent. Polygamous societies are bloodier, more likely to invade their
neighbours and more prone to collapse than others are. The taking of multiple wives is a feature of life in all of the 20 most unstable countries on the Fragile
States Index compiled by the Fund for Peace, an NGO. Because polygamy is illegal in most rich countries, many Westerners underestimate how common it
is. More than a third of women in West Africa are married to a man who has more than one wife. Plural marriages are plentiful in the Arab world, and
fairly common in South-East Asia and a few parts of the Caribbean. The cultures involved are usually patrilineal: ie, the family is defined by the male
bloodline. And they are patrilocal: wives join the husband’s family and leave their own behind. Marriages are often sealed by the payment of a brideprice
from the groom’s family to the bride’s. This is supposed to compensate the bride’s family for the cost of raising her.
[5]     Brideprice societies where wealth is unevenly distributed lend themselves to polygamy—which in turn inflates the price of brides. By increasing the
brideprice, polygamy tends to raise the age at which young men get married; it takes a long time to save enough money. At the same time, it lowers the
age at which women get married. All but the wealthiest families need to “sell” their daughters before they can afford to “buy” wives for their sons; they
also want the wives they shell out for to be young and fertile. In South Sudan “a girl is called an old lady at age 20 because she cannot bear many children
after that,” a local man said. A tribal elder spelled out the maths of the situation. “When you have 10 daughters, each one will give you 30 cows, and they
are all for [the father]. So then you have 300 cows.” If a patriarch sells his daughters at 15 and does not let his sons marry until they are 30, he has15 years
to enjoy the returns on the assets he gained from brideprice. That’s a lot of milk.

Adapted from The Economist, December 23, 2017. 

THE PERILS OF POLYGAMY

[1]     Men in South Sudan typically marry as often as their wealth—often measured in cattle—will allow. Perhaps 40% of marriages are polygamous. “In
[our] culture, the more family you have, the more people respect you,” says William, a young IT specialist in search of his second wife (his name, like some
others in this article, has been changed). Having studied in America and come back to his home village, he finds that he is wealthy by local standards. So
why be content with just one bride?
[2]     Few South Sudanese see the connection between these matrimonial customs and the country’s horrific civil war. If you ask them the reason for the
violence, locals will blame tribalism, greedy politicians, weak institutions and perhaps the oil wealth which gives warlords something to fight over. All true,
but not the whole story.
[3]     Wherever it is widely practised, polygamy destabilizes society, largely because it is a form of inequality which creates an urgent distress in the hearts,
and loins, of young men. If a rich man has a Lamborghini, that does not mean that a poor man has to walk, for the supply of cars is not fixed. By contrast,
every time a rich man takes an extra wife, another poor man must remain single. If the richest and most powerful 10% of men have, say, four wives each,
the bottom 30% of men cannot marry. Young men will take desperate measures to avoid this state.
[4]     This is one of the reasons why the Arab Spring erupted, why the jihadists of Boko Haram and Islamic State were able to conquer swathes of Nigeria,
Iraq and Syria, and why the polygamous parts of Indonesia and Haiti are so turbulent. Polygamous societies are bloodier, more likely to invade their
neighbours and more prone to collapse than others are. The taking of multiple wives is a feature of life in all of the 20 most unstable countries on the Fragile
States Index compiled by the Fund for Peace, an NGO. Because polygamy is illegal in most rich countries, many Westerners underestimate how common it
is. More than a third of women in West Africa are married to a man who has more than one wife. Plural marriages are plentiful in the Arab world, and
fairly common in South-East Asia and a few parts of the Caribbean. The cultures involved are usually patrilineal: ie, the family is defined by the male
bloodline. And they are patrilocal: wives join the husband’s family and leave their own behind. Marriages are often sealed by the payment of a brideprice
from the groom’s family to the bride’s. This is supposed to compensate the bride’s family for the cost of raising her.
[5]     Brideprice societies where wealth is unevenly distributed lend themselves to polygamy—which in turn inflates the price of brides. By increasing the
brideprice, polygamy tends to raise the age at which young men get married; it takes a long time to save enough money. At the same time, it lowers the
age at which women get married. All but the wealthiest families need to “sell” their daughters before they can afford to “buy” wives for their sons; they
also want the wives they shell out for to be young and fertile. In South Sudan “a girl is called an old lady at age 20 because she cannot bear many children
after that,” a local man said. A tribal elder spelled out the maths of the situation. “When you have 10 daughters, each one will give you 30 cows, and they
are all for [the father]. So then you have 300 cows.” If a patriarch sells his daughters at 15 and does not let his sons marry until they are 30, he has15 years
to enjoy the returns on the assets he gained from brideprice. That’s a lot of milk.

Adapted from The Economist, December 23, 2017. 

THE PERILS OF POLYGAMY

[1]     Men in South Sudan typically marry as often as their wealth—often measured in cattle—will allow. Perhaps 40% of marriages are polygamous. “In
[our] culture, the more family you have, the more people respect you,” says William, a young IT specialist in search of his second wife (his name, like some
others in this article, has been changed). Having studied in America and come back to his home village, he finds that he is wealthy by local standards. So
why be content with just one bride?
[2]     Few South Sudanese see the connection between these matrimonial customs and the country’s horrific civil war. If you ask them the reason for the
violence, locals will blame tribalism, greedy politicians, weak institutions and perhaps the oil wealth which gives warlords something to fight over. All true,
but not the whole story.
[3]     Wherever it is widely practised, polygamy destabilizes society, largely because it is a form of inequality which creates an urgent distress in the hearts,
and loins, of young men. If a rich man has a Lamborghini, that does not mean that a poor man has to walk, for the supply of cars is not fixed. By contrast,
every time a rich man takes an extra wife, another poor man must remain single. If the richest and most powerful 10% of men have, say, four wives each,
the bottom 30% of men cannot marry. Young men will take desperate measures to avoid this state.
[4]     This is one of the reasons why the Arab Spring erupted, why the jihadists of Boko Haram and Islamic State were able to conquer swathes of Nigeria,
Iraq and Syria, and why the polygamous parts of Indonesia and Haiti are so turbulent. Polygamous societies are bloodier, more likely to invade their
neighbours and more prone to collapse than others are. The taking of multiple wives is a feature of life in all of the 20 most unstable countries on the Fragile
States Index compiled by the Fund for Peace, an NGO. Because polygamy is illegal in most rich countries, many Westerners underestimate how common it
is. More than a third of women in West Africa are married to a man who has more than one wife. Plural marriages are plentiful in the Arab world, and
fairly common in South-East Asia and a few parts of the Caribbean. The cultures involved are usually patrilineal: ie, the family is defined by the male
bloodline. And they are patrilocal: wives join the husband’s family and leave their own behind. Marriages are often sealed by the payment of a brideprice
from the groom’s family to the bride’s. This is supposed to compensate the bride’s family for the cost of raising her.
[5]     Brideprice societies where wealth is unevenly distributed lend themselves to polygamy—which in turn inflates the price of brides. By increasing the
brideprice, polygamy tends to raise the age at which young men get married; it takes a long time to save enough money. At the same time, it lowers the
age at which women get married. All but the wealthiest families need to “sell” their daughters before they can afford to “buy” wives for their sons; they
also want the wives they shell out for to be young and fertile. In South Sudan “a girl is called an old lady at age 20 because she cannot bear many children
after that,” a local man said. A tribal elder spelled out the maths of the situation. “When you have 10 daughters, each one will give you 30 cows, and they
are all for [the father]. So then you have 300 cows.” If a patriarch sells his daughters at 15 and does not let his sons marry until they are 30, he has15 years
to enjoy the returns on the assets he gained from brideprice. That’s a lot of milk.

Adapted from The Economist, December 23, 2017.