Eurogroup demonstrates how not to calm fears about Cyprus

Jeroen Dijsselbloem nearly ruined everything.

Good news! Jeroen Dijsselbloem, chair of the group of eurozone finance ministers, nearly accidentally killed the euro yesterday.

In what Reuters blogger Felix Salmon described as a "formal, on-the-record joint interview" with Reuters and the FT, Dijsselbloem managed to suggest that the Cypriot bail-in was, in the words of Reuters' Luke Baker, "a new template for resolving eurozone banking problems".

Dijsselbloem said:

What we've done last night is what I call pushing back the risks… If there is a risk in a bank, our first question should be 'Okay, what are you in the bank going to do about that? What can you do to recapitalise yourself?'. If the bank can't do it, then we'll talk to the shareholders and the bondholders, we'll ask them to contribute in recapitalising the bank, and if necessary the uninsured deposit holders.

The tenor of Dijsselbloem's comments certainly suggests he meant them to be generally applied. And, on paper, it's a good ranking of priorities: first you get the bank, which caused the problem, to claw back as much as it can, then you talk to the shareholders and bondholders, who have knowingly taken a risk on the bank's solvency, and then, you talk to depositors. Because depositors are, after all, just people who have loaned money to the bank in a different form; and if they're uninsured, they've always known there was a risk of losing a lot if they bank went under.

Unfortunately, this is precisely the sort of thing that you aren't supposed to say. Because the obvious outcome of explicitly stating that uninsured depositors are considered legitimate sources of funds for the recapitalization of their banks is that uninsured depositors start taking their money out of their banks, particularly in the other eurozone nations where the banks aren't yet out of trouble.

Bank runs are, generally, considered bad news. So it's somewhat unsurprising that shortly after Dijsselbloem's interview hit the press, he released a terse statement walking it back. You could smell the burning rubber from the speed of the u-turn; it reads, in full:

Cyprus is a specific case with exceptional challenges which required the bail-in measures we have agreed upon yesterday.

Macro-economic adjustment programmes are tailor-made to the situation of the country concerned and no models or templates are used.

It's hard to know quite what Dijsselbloem was thinking – although Paweł Morski presents an entertaining scenario of his own. But it becomes a bit clearer when you look at his background.

Dijsselbloem is the Netherlands' finance minister, a position he has only been in since 2012. His extraordinary position of power in the eurogroup comes from the standard rotating presidency, rather than any particular competency, and, although his electoral career goes back to 2000, his only other policy jobs have been the leader of a parliamentary inquiry on education reform in 2007 and a post at the agriculture ministry from 1996 to 2000.

The eurozone seems to alternate between the under-elected and the under-qualified, and it's not getting any better.

Jeroen Dijsselbloem, with Christine Lagarde and Olli Rehn. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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The deafening killer - why noise will be the next great pollution scandal

A growing body of evidence shows that noise can have serious health impacts too. 

Our cities are being poisoned by a toxin that surrounds us day and night. It eats away at our brains, hurts our hearts, clutches at our sleep, and gnaws at the quality of our daily lives.

Hardly a silent killer, it gets short shrift compared to the well-publicised terrors of air pollution and sugars food. It is the dull, thumping, stultifying drum-beat of perpetual noise.

The score that accompanies city life is brutal and constant. It disrupts the everyday: The coffee break ruined by the screech of a line of double decker buses braking at the lights. The lawyer’s conference call broken by drilling as she makes her way to the office. The writer’s struggle to find a quiet corner to pen his latest article.

For city-dwellers, it’s all-consuming and impossible to avoid. Construction, traffic, the whirring of machinery, the neighbour’s stereo. Even at home, the beeps and buzzes made by washing machines, fridges, and phones all serve to distract and unsettle.

But the never-ending noisiness of city life is far more than a problem of aesthetics. A growing body of evidence shows that noise can have serious health impacts too. Recent studies have linked noise pollution to hearing loss, sleep deprivation, hypertension, heart disease, brain development, and even increased risk of dementia.

One research team compared families living on different stories of the same building in Manhattan to isolate the impact of noise on health and education. They found children in lower, noisier floors were worse at reading than their higher-up peers, an effect that was most pronounced for children who had lived in the building for longest.

Those studies have been replicated for the impact of aircraft noise with similar results. Not only does noise cause higher blood pressure and worsens quality of sleep, it also stymies pupils trying to concentrate in class.

As with many forms of pollution, the poorest are typically the hardest hit. The worst-off in any city often live by busy roads in poorly-insulated houses or flats, cheek by jowl with packed-in neighbours.

The US Department of Transport recently mapped road and aircraft noise across the United States. Predictably, the loudest areas overlapped with some of the country’s most deprived. Those included the south side of Atlanta and the lowest-income areas of LA and Seattle.

Yet as noise pollution grows in line with road and air traffic and rising urban density, public policy has turned a blind eye.

Council noise response services, formally a 24-hour defence against neighbourly disputes, have fallen victim to local government cuts. Decisions on airport expansion and road development pay scant regard to their audible impact. Political platforms remain silent on the loudest poison.

This is odd at a time when we have never had more tools at our disposal to deal with the issue. Electric Vehicles are practically noise-less, yet noise rarely features in the arguments for their adoption. Just replacing today’s bus fleet would transform city centres; doing the same for taxis and trucks would amount to a revolution.

Vehicles are just the start. Millions were spent on a programme of “Warm Homes”; what about “Quiet Homes”? How did we value the noise impact in the decision to build a third runway at Heathrow, and how do we compensate people now that it’s going ahead?

Construction is a major driver of decibels. Should builders compensate “noise victims” for over-drilling? Or could regulation push equipment manufacturers to find new ways to dampen the sound of their kit?

Of course, none of this addresses the noise pollution we impose on ourselves. The bars and clubs we choose to visit or the music we stick in our ears. Whether pumping dance tracks in spin classes or indie rock in trendy coffee shops, people’s desire to compensate for bad noise out there by playing louder noise in here is hard to control for.

The Clean Air Act of 1956 heralded a new era of city life, one where smog and grime gave way to clear skies and clearer lungs. That fight still goes on today.

But some day, we will turn our attention to our clogged-up airwaves. The decibels will fall. #Twitter will give way to twitter. And every now and again, as we step from our homes into city life, we may just hear the sweetest sound of all. Silence.

Adam Swersky is a councillor in Harrow and is cabinet member for finance. He writes in a personal capacity.