Neustadt

Unemployment is often a downward spiral. People are at risk at becoming entirely isolated. To prevent this, the social counsellor Karin Schnorr organizes a so-called “Hartz-IV” breakfast in Neustadt every second Thursday. I made a visit.

Carefully prepared trays of salami, cheese, tomatoes, boiled eggs, jam as well as coffee and tea are available to anyone from the Neustadt church district every two weeks. Sometimes guests even bring something along, such as the homemade apple cake that one of the approximately ten women attending today’s meeting baked.

“The food is very good here,” a younger man tells me. He is one of the few men, who are clearly in the minority here. Yet the food is not the main reason why between 15 and 30 people come to the meeting at the Casimirianum. “You feel taken care of here. We have gone through a lot together,” says a woman in her mid-fifties who has been unemployed for many years now and has been taking part in the breakfast for over five years. “Once you’re fifty, no one wants to give you work,” she continues.

She used to be a bookkeeper and secretary. Even a one-euro job did not help her get a new position. At the Casimirianum the Neustadt residents meet people who know what it means to receive “Hartz IV,” the nickname of Germany’s social benefit scheme for the long-term unemployed. They know, because they are in the same boat. Most of them are over 50 and have been unemployed for many years. Some of them have health problems; one woman is suffering from cancer. “Some of them have tough histories,” says social counsellor Karin Schnorr, who organizes the breakfast for the church social welfare office.

“There is a lot of month left over once the money is gone”

Many of them cannot even count on their families for support. Hence, many withdraw more and more, grow lonely and resigned. The main aim of the “Hartz IV” breakfast is to come out of isolation. Here, everyone is in the same circumstances; no one needs to hide. The community gives them strength. After the breakfast, the guests begin to talk with one another. It is obvious that the conversation often centres on money and the lack of it.

“There is a lot of month left over once the money is gone,” says Schnorr. “The ones who live alone in particular have to be good at maths to be able to pay all their bills and make it through the month on 382 euros.” One advantage is the small size of Neustadt and its well-developed network of social services. “Many people are involved as volunteers, there is a lot of neighbourly help,” Schnorr tells me. People are interested in their fellow men. The low unemployment rate in Neustadt is of little help to those who cannot find work. “Some will never work again,” Schnorr emphasizes. Their poor health will not allow it.

No one here sought out this situation, no one here at the Casimirianum is happy to be dependent on social assistance. Being able to take care of themselves would be a good feeling. Not being able to here, where unemployment is rather an exception, is a particularly bitter pill to swallow. “When the unemployment rate is high, it’s easier for the individual,” says Schnorr. But in Neustadt, the number of wealthy people is very high compared to other towns. The city centre is characterized by beautiful shops and boutiques. But the pathway of the poor usually only leads to the Neustadt food bank.