Yanis Varoufakis
Yanis Varoufakis; drawing by Siegfried Woldhek

On January 25, 2015, after five years of debt crisis and economic and social decline that left half the country’s young people unemployed, the Greek electorate handed power to the most radical coalition to govern a European country in decades. Under the leadership of the youthful Alexis Tsipras, the Coalition of the Radical Left (Syriza) won 36.3 percent of the vote, qualifying it for the fifty-seat bonus awarded to the party with a plurality. To the horror of bien pensant opinion in Berlin and Paris, it chose as its partner in government a right-wing nationalist party, the Independent Greeks (1 For Douzinas the Syriza project was always multipronged and must be judged accordingly.

The recalcitrant working-class culture of Syriza’s strong labor wing, rooted in the docklands of Piraeus and northern Thessaloniki, is far removed from the globe-trotting, cosmopolitan milieu of Varoufakis and Douzinas, but also from the Marxist intellectualism of Popular Unity. But Syriza is also a party of the rainbow coalition. It is committed to environmentalism, prison reform, and 2 A “rupture,” an exit from the eurozone, in January or February 2015 might have sustained the momentum of Syriza’s election victory.

The opportunity for a break was there. Germany and its allies seemed ready to countenance immediate Grexit. But on February 20, Varoufakis thought that he had found the basis for a serious renegotiation of terms. Days later it was clear that the creditors had no intention of making the least concession. Why did the Greek government not simply walk away? Why did it stay at the table in a doomed attempt to reason with the Eurogroup? Given his identification with the left, Varoufakis is haunted by these questions. It is the struggle to answer them that makes his frank memoir not only engrossing but an important contribution to the library of modern politics, as a case study in the limits of radicalism and the forces that hold the status quo in place.


To understand Varoufakis’s motivations, we have to understand how he defines what was at stake in the battle between Greece and its creditors. For many on the left, the struggle was between the “forces of capital” and democracy. That made a good rallying cry. But it is far from the situation that Syriza actually confronted in 2015. Due to the 2012 debt write-down, when Syriza took power three years later only 15 percent of Greece’s debts were owed to banks, insurance funds, or hedge funds. Eighty-five percent were debts to official agencies and other European governments. The struggle was not with the capital markets but with official creditors and the other national governments assembled in the Eurogroup.

Disconcertingly for the left, Varoufakis turned the tables. Rather than confronting “capital,” he started the negotiations by going to London to reassure the remaining private holders of Greek debt that their interests would be protected. Cultivating the Anglophone media, Varoufakis pitted market rationality against the conservative dogma of the creditors who demanded that Greece pay the unpayable. His aim was to align global business opinion with the Syriza government in demanding a fresh start for both Greece and Europe.

But this invites the question: How had the eurozone crisis become so confused? The creditors pointed to decades of Greek financial incontinence. It was a mistake to have admitted Greece to the rich club of the eurozone in the first place. On the need for domestic reform, the radicals of Syriza did not disagree. Their discredited predecessors had presided over a shambles from which the Greek upper class profited more than anyone. But for Varoufakis, the real origin of the eurozone imbroglio was to be found not in Greece but in the creditor countries. The huge losses suffered by German, French, and Benelux banks between 2008 and 2009 forced their governments into ruinously unpopular bailouts. Twelve months later, when the Greek crisis hit the headlines, it was the same German, French, Dutch, and Belgian banks that were on the hook.

In order to avoid a comprehensive restructuring of their banks, the governments of Northern Europe decided to, as they viewed it, rescue Greece. They funneled funds to Athens, most of which then flowed back out to Greece’s creditor banks in Northern Europe. The troika staffers who swept through Athens in what Varoufakis calls their “convoys of Mercedes-Benzes and BMWs” were claiming to bring rational reform to a backward Greece. In fact their program was illogical. It was neither sustainable for Greece nor did it deliver stability for the eurozone. Its ultimate rationale, dictated by political convenience, was to give Northern Europe a roundabout bank bailout.

Extending Greek debts and pretending that they were payable became the basic modus operandi of the eurozone. It is this pattern of denial, which persists today, that Varoufakis repeatedly encountered when negotiating with his European counterparts. In private, government ministers, EU commissioners, and IMF economists would agree that Greece’s debt had to be restructured. But once in public they reverted to the familiar mantra that Greece must prove its “credibility” by “reforms” and “savings” that tore apart the social fabric of Greece and wrecked its economy.

Beyond the self-serving logic of a bureaucracy bent on preserving its own authority and control, what wider purpose has this strategy served? It is essential to the interpretation of the crisis offered in Adults in the Room that this question has no clear or good answer. In Varoufakis’s rendering, Europe’s “bailoutistan” is a madhouse, an Alice-in-Wonderland world. It is propelled by the narrow self-interest of politicians, oligarchs, and small-minded technocrats. It is perpetuated by the exclusion and opacity that define the “black boxes” of modern power networks. But the system in its entirety lacks all logic. Greece, Europe, and the world economy would all be better off if the eurozone would sort itself out.

Alkis Konstantinidis/ReutersGreek Finance Minister Yanis Varoufakis arriving at Maximos Mansion for a government council meeting, Athens, June 2015

This conclusion ultimately justified Varoufakis’s determination to negotiate. Perhaps, with his brilliance and clarity, and armed with his personal proposal for an overhaul of the eurozone, little Greece and its left-wing government would lead Europe out of confusion and impasse, back toward freedom and prosperity. Not for nothing did Christine Lagarde of the 3


Did Greece have any way of breaking out of Germany’s grip? The common criticism of Varoufakis’s period in office is that he was an intellectual who took the knife of logic to a political gunfight. He was ill equipped from the start. Adults in the Room is at pains to show that this interpretation is mistaken. Varoufakis insists that he had prepared a response in case his efforts to negotiate a debt write-down with Germany failed. Indeed, it was only because he had this weapon on hand that he was willing to accept Syriza’s invitation to become finance minister and to enter the labyrinth of negotiations in the first place.

The plan that caused a scandal in the summer of 2015 and earned Varoufakis notoriety was a scheme to replace the euro with a new drachma. That scheme was in fact little more than due diligence, a reserve measure Varoufakis held on to in case the negotiations took the worst possible turn.

The far more dangerous weapon was one that Varoufakis proposed to direct against the European Central Bank. In a coincidence that would prove fateful, three days before Syriza was elected in January 2015, the 4 But Adults in the Room gives the first full-fledged account of his intent. Varoufakis wants us to know that whatever we may think of his bargaining tactics, he was not so naive as to go into the Eurogroup negotiations unarmed. The question is why his weapon was never used.

The answer turns on the cabinet politics around Prime Minister Tsipras. Conservative elements in the Greek state bureaucracy put powerful pressure on Athens not to break with the eurozone. They were joined by members of the Syriza coalition that had too much at stake in the status quo. When Varoufakis and his team were absent from Greece, Tsipras fell under the influence of more cautious advisers.

In April Varoufakis was dispatched to Washington with orders to inform the IMF of a pending default on Greece’s latest debt payment. But when he arrived in Washington his orders were revoked. Repeatedly, Tsipras shrank from the ultimate confrontation. By May he had succumbed to pressure from Germany to remove his troublesome finance minister from the front line of the eurozone negotiations.

Varoufakis gives an engaging picture both of the palace politics within Athens and of his desperate willingness to believe in Tsipras’s historic mission that held him in place. What he does not discuss are the wider implications of his proposed strategy of confrontation with the ECB, notably its likely repercussions for the other stressed peripheral borrowers. Had Greece defaulted, it is hard to say whether the loss would have been inflicted on the ECB or merely on the Greek central bank. But as far as Portugal, Spain, and Italy were concerned, the Greek strategy carried considerable risks. The entire point of Varoufakis’s proposal was to put them in harm’s way and to widen the Greek crisis, thereby forcing Draghi and the Germans to back off. His plan was to deliberately unleash a civil war in Europe over the one promise that since 2012 had been holding the European currency together—Draghi’s commitment to do “whatever it takes”—thus exposing the other weaker eurozone members to the full force of the bond markets.

How this would have worked out politically and what consequences it might have had for the left in Portugal and Spain are not questions that Varoufakis takes up. That he even considered such a tactic points to the extraordinary pitch of tension that eurozone politics had reached. Given Greece’s subordinate position, it would be bombastic to call his scheme a “nuclear option.” But it was certainly a dirty bomb.


From its inception after World War II, the European Union has always been marked by a combination of high ideals, economic logic, and power politics. The balance has shifted over time depending on circumstance. In the early 2000s Brussels preened itself as the capital of the “good Europe”: a prosperous, unified, peaceful Rechtsstaat of continental scale. It was saccharine. But Europe was making up with soft-power appeal for what it lacked in hard-power clout.

That self-image did not survive the crisis of 2008. The EU today is no longer the “good Europe” of a decade ago. But neither is it the technocratic and neoliberal machine that it is variously caricatured to be. As Varoufakis’s memoir starkly reveals, it has become an arena for a political clash between contending visions of socioeconomic change. As is commonly observed, the EU does not have a democratic constitution. But to harp endlessly on the fact that Europe has no demos is an obfuscation in its own right. Like any large, complex polity, it is made up of multiple constituencies governed by different and conflicting logics. National politics today, whether in Greece, Germany, France, or the Czech Republic, take place within a European force field.

Within that force field, Syriza’s challenge mattered. It still does, as does the lower-key progressive project in Portugal. But both of these challenges are small, weak, and opposed by powerful enemies. The idea that countries like Greece and Portugal have an equal voice in the EU is a pious fiction. To make themselves heard, they have to use means fair and foul. One should not be scandalized by the lengths to which Varoufakis was willing to go. They suggest what he was up against: the dogged determination of the Eurogroup, its conservatism, and also its contradictions.

The divide between the European Central Bank and the factions that influence policymaking in Germany has strategic implications. Europe’s rescue from the acute phase of the eurozone crisis between 2010 and 2012 depended on Merkel and Draghi’s ability to balance the demands of such factions. Varoufakis’s threat to expose the contradictions in that balance was well directed. But it was also dangerous, and for that reason Tsipras pulled back.

Varoufakis clearly considers Tsipras naive for imagining that he could strike a deal with Germany. But Tsipras was at least half right. On the night of July 12, 2015, at the climax of the Greek debt crisis, Merkel did not push Schäuble’s proposal to exclude Greece from the euro for a “time out.” As Tsipras correctly judged, the majority of the Greek population did not want to risk a rupture, and Merkel knew that the same was true in Germany. Tsipras and Merkel struck a deal that would allow both countries to muddle through. The fury of the German right says as much about the nature of that compromise as does the disappointment of the Greek left.

For Germany’s new right, Merkel’s surrender over Greece was a prelude to her impetuous open-door response to the refugee crisis. Both constituted a betrayal of the conservative foundations of the Federal Republic. The Alternative für Deutschland was founded in the spring of 2013 not as a party of anti-immigrant resentment. The “alternative” it purported to offer was an escape from Merkel’s endless compromises over the eurozone. The huge losses suffered by both the Social Democratic Party and Merkel’s CDU in the Bundestag election of September 2017 confirm how deeply the crises of 2015—Greece on top of Ukraine topped by the refugee crisis—shook even the most stable European polity. That the future of Europe now hangs on Merkel’s ability to construct yet another unlikely coalition in Berlin suggests the extent to which the status quo in Europe depends not only on economic interests and technocratic calculations—however those may be defined—but also on the endlessly shifting play of electoral politics and governmental negotiation.

Varoufakis adorns his narrative with references to Greek tragedy mixed with denunciations of the black boxes within which technocracy conceals its power. As far as the eurozone is concerned these are largely beside the point. What he has actually given us is something more prosaic but no less important: a deeply reflective, first-person insight into the workings of modern power and politics.

  1. 1

    Costas Douzinas, Syriza in Power: Reflections of an Accidental Politician (Polity, 2017).  ↩

  2. 2

    See Costas Lapavitsas, “The Path Not Taken,” Jacobin, October 9, 2015. ↩

  3. 3

    See Daniel Marans, “US Foreign Policy Got in the Way of Helping Greece, Greek Ex-Official Says,” HuffPost, April 29, 2016. ↩

  4. 4

    See Paul Mason, “The Inside Story of Syriza’s Struggle to Save Greece,” The Nation, December 18, 2015. ↩