2023 Berlin – January – appearances and disappearances

The month could be encapsulated in the activities of the last day. 31.01.2023.

We visited, for the first time, the Humboldt Forum, the name given to what largely inhabits the lavish construction that goes by the name of the Schloss. Schloss translates as palace but there’s another German word Palast. And in the GDR it was the Palast der Republik (palace of the republic, the German Democratic Republic that is) that stood on this selfsame site.

So on this one piece of land buildings have appeared, then disappeared – only to reappear again. In a chronology it would look something like this:

1443 – 1918 Stadtschloss: Palace lived in by monarchs

1918 – The monarchy abdicate at end of WW1 and after 400 years of residence,

1918 – 1945 – Stadtschloss building used for state functions/museum

1945 – Stadtschloss bombed and largely destroyed

1950 – Stadtschloss completely demolished by GDR government.

1950 – 1973 – Marx-Engels Platz established, parade ground.

1973 – The building of the Palast der Republik begins

1990 – After the end of the GDR, Palast der Republik gutted to remove asbestos then the shell is used as an alternative, experimental arts venue.

2006 – Complete demolition of Palast der Republik starts.

2008 – 2013 – Grassed area called Schlossplatz.

2013 – building of new/old Schloss begins.

2022 – new/old Schloss completed, no monarchy resident but a strong lobbyist behind the construction is from a royal lineage…

The old Schloss was first rendered redundant just after the end of the First World War when the whole of Germany became a republic, the Weimar Republic. The old monarchy was ousted for good and there was an incipient revolution, then a kind of civil war resulting in a shaky social democracy with enormous social and political tumult, with forces on the monarchical right, the militaristic right, the revolutionary communist and social reformist all striving to change it. The times then were filled with street clashes and fervent meetings in all kinds of public spaces. The Schloss was just another old building. Then less than 30 years later, it and other grand buildings in central Berlin were completely or partly destroyed by aerial bombardment and/or shelling towards the end of WW2. The remains of the Schloss were then torn down in 1950 and the Palast der Republik erected. After reunification in 1990, the Palast was itself rendered defunct, was vacated but its shell lived on as alternative art space and there was a determined effort to see this transformation as an ongoing project in the heart of the city. Again there were disagreements and ultimately the Palast was oblierated and when I first arrived in Berlin in 2011, there was just a big grass space. One day, we visited the Dom (Berlin’s protestant cathedral) situated directly opposite this site and I saw from the viewpoint of the cupola, a large heart (etched in dew?) on the lush green expanse.

A few years later, they began building what is there now, a fake but extraordinary accurate replica of the old Schloss, mostly housing the Humboldt Forum

So there’s no monarch in the new/old palace now but there are artifacts from across the previously colonised globe when monarchies and empires (of the original kind) abounded. As always with visits to museums like this, I feel awe and gratitude that these artifacts have survived and are being offered to me to gaze and wonder at, but I also feel disquieted, wondering how they were dislodged from their original contexts and by whom.

As we only had time for a cursory visit, we chose to go up to a top floor exhibition of art and artifacts from Asia. On the way, we came across items on display that alluded to the pre-existing Palast. One was a large wall relief in bronze, depicting a crowd of human figures, all naked, walking forward towards us. The implied message of this was moving. Here we are, with nothing but our hopes and aspirations, together, no one excluded (there were young, old, male, female figures) open to a future we want to make in unity and solidarity. A plaque told us that the relief had been cut into several pieces on removal from the Palast, perhaps this was only a fraction of the size of the original.

The other item we saw on our way up was a small TV monitor, of the sort originally used for CCTV. It was, we were told by the accompanying text, one that had been employed in the Palast. Next to it, in a vitrine, was an example of an old camera, the sort of which had captured what was showing on the screen of the monitor. It seemed that not only footage but commentary had been kept from, allegedly, the Stasi team who had been directing the cameras and stating the objectives of who or what should be tracked. The grainy black and white footage showed a man waiting on the steps of the then Palast. The commentators seemed keen to observe where he was looking and who he was waiting for. When a couple joined him, more was said about his relative short height and then about the imperative of recording the licence plate of the car some of them got into. Rather than this being shocking and alien to our eyes, this display only served to emphasise to us, the proliferation of such surveillance in our current contexts. We had only to look around for a second to see a camera embedded in the ceiling behind and above our heads.

We got to the Asian art floor and due to pressure of time only really managed to view some of the Buddhist items. One was a rendition of a figure called Akshobya who is said to embody a wisdom which transforms hatred into insight. Most often depicted as deep blue in colour, here the figure was made out of clear crystal, suggesting someone there and not there, caught in the process of appearing and disappearing. Beautiful.

Appearing and disappearing, like the Schloss, like the Palast, like us in the building, like the cameras and the footage, like the day and the month.

Afterwards, we went to a peace rally, somewhat hastily organised by part of Die Linke, the left party, after the agreement to allow German tanks to be sent to Ukraine. We noticed on the way, that the flagpoles on top of the Altes Museum, which faces the Schloss across the Lustgarten, were flying German flags at half-mast. These flagpoles had, until recently, been flying Ukrainian flags. We were uncertain why the flags were at half-mast. At the rally there were more flags, not the national kind thankfully but ones with white doves and the odd one for the party organising it. We arrived just in time to hear the co-leader Janine Wissler speaking out against escalatory measures which mainly go to massively increase the profits of arms manufacturers such as Rheinmetall. The rally took place on Rosa Luxemburg Platz, named after a woman who certainly knew about opposing war and militarism. The Volksbühne building formed the backdrop.

The rally was short and afterwards we visited the soon to disappear peace camp situated behind the Dom. The camp wasn’t connected to the demo but was rather a independent venture. They had already managed 3 months but had been ordered to leave because they weren’t making enough noise they’d been told by the authorities, either literally through a megaphone or digitally via a podcast. The prominent positioning of placards with explanatory text, alternate white and planet earth logo bearing flags weren’t offering a loud enough message it was apparently felt. One of the peace activists told us that they could have had a lot more people there too, had they tolerated the drinking of alcohol. So actions for peace are appearing and disappearing in Berlin.

Later still we went back south, to Kreuzberg and watched the film The Triangle of Sadness, full of structures disappearing and appearing again.

Berlin Corona Diary #30

On the brink of the next year. I’ll try and fill in what happened in the whole of last: 2022, Pandemic-wise. At the start of the year there was uncertainty and the arrival of the Omicron variant, more infectious as it was, caused concern. It turned out that although much more infectious, the vast majority of cases were mild. The more infectious part caused many more Corona App warnings and sure enough on an icy cold January morning, I joined a long outdoor queue to be tested at my local Bürgertestzentrum. The wait was a good 2 hours and that time I was negative.

Masks were still mandatory on public transport but it was possible to travel beyond Berlin, as I did, for work to Leipzig.

There were lots of things to admire in the city but two figures caught my eye, whose message is obviously timeless but I felt had a sharper pertinence in our circimstances:

It was late March before I succumbed to Omicron. The worst symptom for me was a raging sore throat. I tested positive on both the lateral flow and the PCR tests. The symptoms lasted a week and I probably caught it from my partner who’d had it the week before. Thankfully, we tested negative again just in time for our trip to the UK in early April. We were surprised to discover how easily we dispensed with masks even just over the Netherlands’ border, travelling the journey from there to Amsterdam without them. This continued on the ferry to Newcastle and in Britain, it was almost like there had never been a pandemic.

In May, there was a conference for the Enteignen (expropriation) campaign at the TU Berlin. It was well-attended by not only German but international delegates. Shamelessly, Mayor Giffey had refused to implement the campaign result immediately after the election, but had said it was necessary to have an expert panel to consider the legal implications. I can happily report that this panel, late in November, early December, said that there was no impediment to expropriation and that Berlin should proceed. Giffey’s excuses have run out.

Later into the summer, the masks requirement was removed in shops and apart from a few people who still continue to wear masks, most people don’t. The requirement continues on transport but many people ignore it now. One thing that brought delight was the implementation of a 9 Euro ticket for the months of June, July and August which let people travel anywhere in Germany on regional trains for just the one-off payment of 9 Euros a month.

In late August, a campaign to make Berlin carbon neutral, staged a striking event in the middle of the city, blocking a street with a bubble encasing cars.

From September onwards, there has been a decreasing sense of fear or trepidation about infection and events are more or less back to normal with only perhaps a heightened sense of the importance of ventilation of indoor spaces. I nonetheless opted to have my second booster in October once I became eligible on the reckoning that it could prevent a hospitalised case of Covid.

The last three months of the year have been reasonably uneventful on the pandemic front and I hope we’ll see even fewer cases, a relaxing of the mask requirement on transport and an increasing focus of energy on those campaigns to change and save lives such as the Enteignen initiative, the car-free and carbon neutral. Happy new year!

Berlin Corona Diary #29

Fast forward, future uncertain

A whole half a year since the last entry. In August and September I got more involved with the DWE (Deutsche Wohnen und Co Enteignen) campaign and did three doorstop conversation actions, some community postering and outdoor canvassing. This was small beer compared to the tireless efforts of others but I was moved and inspired by the way we were able to interact with fellow renters in Berlin to push for a better, securer future and ultimately more say over our communal space and city. In late September all our actions came to fruition when the referendum took place alongside multiple elections both local and national. The referendum for more affordable secure housing was overwhelmingly successful with an average of almost 60% YES across the city. In my constituency it was 80%. Around the same time it became clear that Franziska Giffey was going to become Berlin Mayor and she’d been vocal in her opposition to the whole idea. As it happened she said she’d respect the result. These are slippery words in that her respect only extends to having an expert commission spend a year assessing what has already been assessed that such an action can legally take place. The suspicion is that Giffey seeks to placate her property rich supporters while demoralising the activists who campaigned so hard for such a successful result. Turning euphoria into weary despair in other words. There is no sign the latter is happening, with groups still vocal about holding politicians to their word, to honour democracy, despite Die Linke regrettably falling into line with Giffey’s plan so as to get seats on the Senat. We shall see. I spied this artwork not long after voting on 26th September. Precarious housing, reflecting reality through a glass darkly:

And what of our companion Corona? After a summer of almost normality, the Delta variant appeared. Not many adjustments were made but figures went up and up. Masks were still mandatory on public transport and in shops and well, most places people got together. But though people still wore them, the distancing regulation had gotten slack. This made for ever more risky feelings on the U-Bahn and S-Bahn. I’m not sure if this gate graffiti at Samaritestraße predates COVID 19 but it kind of summed up a vibe:

Samartiestraße U_Bahnhof gate

I found another guy under Nollendorfplatz U-Bahnhof who surprised me. There since 1904, so pre WW1, pre the last pandemic of Spanish Flu and well before Mr Isherwood lived round the corner, he’s been welling up from the depths for over a century. Is it he who’s petrified or us? Just shows, there are always monsters lurking, their fish friends swallowing up our boundaries

Under Nollendorfplatz U-Bahnhof

In November it first began to be mooted that only fully vaccinated or recovered people would be allowed to enter certain shops, certainly restaurants, cafes and bars. Pressure of course on those who weren’t vaccinated to do so and an unpleasant implication that they and only they were responsible for the painful ongoing of the pandemic. No mention of the over-stretched hospital staff who should be supported by further recruitment, have to look after fewer patients, make the hospitals places that have ampler room for care and aren’t so easily at breaking point. The other illogical aspect which was ignored was the inconvenient fact that the Delta variant was responsible for breakthrough infections in already vaccinated people so only excluding those not vaccinated (even after a test and weraing masks) didn’t make total sense. In December, a choral event in Potsdam proved this point in that half the singers got infected despite the event being 2G+ (vaccinated, recovered + a test). The vaccination figures did go up however.

At least Schnelltests (lateral flow tests) became free again, or at least one a week was free, down from two in the earlier days in the pandemic but one up from earlier in the year.

Then in December, in many parts of the world, the new Omicron variant appeared, its spread in South Africa giving weight to the argument that the majority of the world needs access to vaccination, not just in individual, predominantly rich, countries. As I write, Omicron seems not to have made much impact here yet, unlike the vertical spikes seen in other countries. It will surely come and I know I’m not alone in hoping that it will prove early findings right, that it is much milder, requiring very few hospitalisations and will immunise those who get it after nothing more serious than a cold. Having had a cold recently that lasted 10 days, I wouldn’t be keen to try out any of those assumptions but heartfelt wishes are palpable that 2022 will see an emergence from pandemic.

I don’t quite agree with the sentiments in this grafitti but as Berlin heads for its second Silvester (New Year’s Eve) without the usual hooley, I can understand the assertion.

grafitti in Neukölln

More than fun, I wish light and hope for us all.

Berlin Corona Diary #28 – drama inside and out

July 2021

At last the cinemas re-open their doors, and keep them open (wide) until the main feature starts. At least that was my experience of my matinee visit to see a new German film, Nebenan (Next Door) at Babylon Kreuzberg. Proof of one of the three Gs – geimpft, genesen, getestet – (vaccinated, recovered, tested), is required before a ticket can be purchased. Then one has to either have a Luca app on one’s phone with a personal QR code to register at the venue, or fill in an analogue slip of paper with contact details. And last but not least of course, wear a mask, at least until you get to your seat. Being a matinee, I would never expect a crowded auditorium but there were even fewer filmgoers than normal but it felt great to sit in a row of the red plush seats and even to watch the ads and trailers, a long missed treat. The film was pretty good too, having been filmed in Berlin with excellent German actors despite the pandemic.

Much was still taking place in the open air, some welcome, others not, and though it was the unpleasant events that happened elsewhere, beyond Berlin, whose ramifications were global, not just pertinent to Germany. Between 12th and 15th of the month, heavy rain fell across much of western Europe and areas of Germany suffered more than a month’s rain in 24 hours. In several towns in the north west the flooding was catastrophic and resulted in the deaths of at least 177 people, with many more injured and suffering loss of homes. The footage from not only Germany but Belgium, the Netherlands and other places was shocking in the scale and rapidity of destruction. The extremity of the weather and its consequences were clear signs of both the presence of climate catastrophe and the lack of investment having been put into prevention and protection. The anger and sense of urgency grew and though shocking to encounter, it was heartening to see protestors staging the tableau of a massacre at the foot of the TV Tower in central Berlin. Designed to alert passers-by not just to the climate crises but to an upcoming period of activism in August, I got the feeling there might have been more attention but that the attraction of another big LGBT+ demo on the same day may have diverted the crowds. The name of the permanent, cadaver-based exhibition: body-worlds added a touch of unintentional irony.

Another series of interesting talks and art events took place outside on Karl Marx Allee, around a specially adapted container which referenced a 1975 German film called Lina Braake Bank, initials LBB, in order to host a programme exploring the topic of money and its relationship to people and society. The setting was both striking and apposite.

Being the summer, the delights of outdoor swimming and growing plants provided a soothing respite.

Berlin Corona Diary #27 – spaces and people

June 2021

The streets are still empty in the centre of the city in a month they’d normally be thronged. But slowly emergence is happening. The statue that was still behind boards in March, is now to be seen again. Her title translates as Reconstruction Helper and she, along with her male counterpart were allegedly made from the melted down bronze from statues of Kaiser Wilhelm I and Elector Friedrich I which once stood inside the Rote Rathaus (the ‘red town hall’ where Berlin Senat sits) before being sculpted anew by Fritz Cremer. Both figures were positioned where they still stand in the late 1950s and represent not only the rebuilding of Berlin after the war but the establishment of a new country in the shape of the GDR. The fact that the man has a pick and she a shovel could also refer to the description of the country as a workers’ and farmers’ republic. It’s good to see her out in the open again, ready for action.

Other female icons exhorting the population to rebuild society are in evidence in the form of posters in the underground station at Alexanderplatz facing the platforms of the U2 line. Showing a range of women from all ages and backgrounds, the text is also in a range of languages; German, Turkish and Arabic. The German quotes aim for wit. One, next to an older woman says: “The virus has overpowered us faster than the patriarchy” Another next to a rather glamorous, possibly transwoman says: “Small prick, big freedom”. All quotes are accompanied by the phrase: “Roll up your sleeve for the vaccine” The Turkish version shows a young woman standing near what looks like a five a side football goal and says: “We’ll only win as a team” and the Arabic version, depicting a young woman in headscarf and white medical coat says simply: “Vaccination saves lives.”

Apart from shops and transport hubs, inside spaces are still rather off-limits unless under certain conditions. Consequently, galleries are still showing work to be viewed from outside through a window such as the installation here at Neon Kunst shown as part of the 48 Hours Neukölln annual arts festival, the second under corona conditions.

The battle for living space to be affordable goes on and saw a spectacular street opera dedicated to the topic in Kreuzberg. Called Lauratibor, it is named after two streets whose residents have been battling various property developers and gentrifiers. It featured two characters Laura and Tibor and of course a baddie, called Maximilius Profitikus who is overcome by collective solidarity and resistance. The performance was actually the second to take place this summer and was performed on the natural amphitheatre outside the Bethanien Culture Space. The police seemed disconcerted at the numbers and insisted that the audience wear masks, even though we were all outside and not moving around. Distance could of course not be maintained and so everyone acquiesced so as to see the performance proceed. The image shows only about a third of the spectators present and the musicians can be seen slightly to the right of the performers, gathered at this point as a chorus.

The piece contained polemic of course but also moments of poignant longing as here as well as well a vividly imaginative approach to contextualisation in the form of a promenade funeral march, the first part to be seen here, in which the rear party carried the addresses of buildings where tenants were evicted for profit in the past, seen here. At the finale, the greedy developer now vanquished and the properties held in common, a joyous song was sung while the purple and yellow flags of the current movement to expropiate large corporate property portfolios waved abundantly, see here. The lyrics, cut slightly short in the linked video, translate as:

What is the elixir?
That is much, much stronger than all gold?
It is that
It is that
It is that
It is that which brings us all together
Out on the streets of every land
Thirsting for resistance

The full libretto in English, German or Turkish as well as the press releases can be read here

It was uplifting not only to watch such passionate and life-affirming performances but to be part of a big audience again which was truly invigorating and a glimpse into what can hopefully come. In the meantime, the messages in some urban spaces suggesting how we can get through this aren’t only government approved.

and the wide open spaces give us peace, quiet and beauty.

Berlin Corona Diary #26 – Pushing through

May 2021.

Now this is more like it. The infection numbers start going down, albeit slowly. The blossom comes in abundance and the sun shines more frequently. Spring is startlingly brief in Berlin but always spectacular.

Too late for the poor woman who died in March and in a different location in the neighbourhood, but we get our own bicycle street. Herrfurthstraße, which leads from the busy Hermannstraße thoroughfare, up past popular shops and cafes, past a church on a platz and straight to Tempelhofer Feld, has always been overly busy and bikes took their chances with delivery vehicles, taxis and cars. But now, it is especially reserved for those on two wheels. A good sign and hopefully the first of many.

The mystery sign-holders on Tempelhofer Feld are filled and, encouragingly, with information panels displaying pictures and diagrams about the range of trees planted last year, the ones I dubbed the corona trees in Berlin Corona Diary #4. The descriptions are in German and English. Many of the trees are fruit varieties but this one was an oak. The planting of these trees and the marking of them in this way seems another sign of the city’s acceptance of the value of the Feld as a place with unique value that deserves conservation not offering up to real estate developers.

F

Following the decision to overturn the “rent-lid” law, there was another big demonstration against gentrification and unaffordable rents. Everyone gathered in Potsdamer Platz before setting off west. A big contigent from Deutsche Wohnen & Co Enteignen stood out with their yellow and purple flags and banners.

Slogans varied from the straightforwardly argued: “Housing is not a commodity, stop rent madness” to the speech-bubble from the mouth of a cartoon bear “Property sharks into fish-fingers”, a nicely colourful description of expropriation.

Some protestors bore slogans on T-Shirts like Gier ist nicht geil, greed is not cool, referring to a nauseatingly consumerist ad campaign around 2006 from a German technology retail chain but also depicting accumulated properties above an Eye of Sauron image from The Lord of the Rings

Masks were worn throughout the march, despite the higher temperatures making that a hot and stickier experience than was comfortable and we shared stories of what our respective landlords had done in the wake of the law being revoked.

Another collective experience was the recording of a sound-art, spoken-word, radio piece called Heimatgefühle composed by Ira Hadžić and performed by me and several other non-native German speakers, from countries such as Japan, Brazil and Italy. We recorded at the Deutschland Radio studios for Deutschlandfunk Kultur and the piece can be first heard on 27th August this year at five minutes past midnight and thereafter on their website. Access into the buildings was on condition of negative test results and wearing a mask when moving outside our designated recording places. Hearing my own voice and that of others through the very good headphones while standing alone, unseen by and apart from each other was an interesting experiential mixture of mysterious distance and intimacy.

After such enclosed separation, I sought open spaces and found a nearby park with an intriguing low rise building bordering some water. On nearing it, I discovered it wasn’t a landscaped folly but the highly functional bridge and tunnel housing the underground station Rathaus Schoeneberg. Even though I’ve spent almost ten years here, I’m still discovering new things.

So in May, masks were still very much required, as was an ongoing commitment to anti-racist diversity as this poster declares on a local community centre door: solidarity against Corona and far-right agitation – Masks on! – Nazis out – stop the AfD. Stand up against racism.

Berlin Corona Diary #25 – Open to question

Question mark fence, Prenzlauerberg

April 2021.

In the early part of the month, the weather stayed cold, the branches bare. Progress felt slow to non-existent. When I posted in relief that I’d been able to get a vaccination, instant frantic responders asked me how? where? what? It was an indication of how desperately people wished for respite, for things to lift and change and open up again.

But nothing seemed to move forward, there were question marks everywhere, not just as decorations on Prenzlauerberg fences. The weather especially equivocated. Snow fell in the midst of the month and while not producing the blanket coverage of earlier in the year, the flakes were fat and substantial. Yellow forsythia at least blazed defiantly.

On the field, Tempelhofer Feld, a number of empty signs were installed. That’s to say sign-holders, lacking a sign, standing around vacantly and clueless, adding to the dearth of information or clarity of what to expect.

The only certainty lay in being tested and hopefully getting the same reassuring result. Having a negative result was required for performing any face to face (albeit still masked) work or entrance into certain buildings. The medical procedure and ritual became so routine and familiar one noticed subtle differences in technique. This person twisted the swab a little more slowly than that person, the next person didn’t seem to push it far enough in. The discomfort was brief and thankfully not persistent. I went on wondering about the young people charged with this task, were they medical students? Did they have any clinical quaifications at all? Was it a mini-job? I didn’t ask, just waited my turn in the corridor and got it over with as quickly as possible.

I myself made a move of sorts and cleared away some deadwood, at least from my balcony. The old year was gone, no point in letting its ghosts haunt us further. The dry sticks and leaves could be mulch for growth to come, maybe this act would foster some progress. All collected, the attenuated shapes and sober hues had a wistful beauty nonetheless.

Then on April 15th, something else finally happened but it was bad news. Up to this point, for around 6 months, many Berliners had enjoyed a rent reduction, courtesy of a Berlin-specific law that was passed by the Senat to bring rents into line with whatever the local average was for a flat of such a size and year of construction. It depended on when you’d signed your contract and most new build properties were exempt but a majority of Berlin residents, the vast majority (possibly 85%) of whom are renters, saw a clear benefit and a saving to their household budget, particularly welcome, of course, during the short-working period of a pandemic. The law came into being via the leftest member of the left-wing Senat, Die Linke, and was supported by their coalition partners, the Greens and the Social Deomcrats. The argument being that if rents are allowed to exceed incomes to too great a degree, the city will see many of its long term citizens evicted and the property ethos will swiftly follow the model of other major cities like London, Paris or San Francisco where poorer people are relegated to crowded outskirts far from where they work and the centre preserved only for the richest and privileged. The success and obvious popularity of the measure got up the noses of the opposition parties in the city, especially the neoliberal FDP and CDU who amongst others challenged it in the constitutional court. Unfortunately, they were successful and the law was overturned. The constitutional court ruled that it wasn’t up to one Federal State, ie Berlin, to have a say over the rents that private landlords could charge. The news was met with an obvious outcry and people responded loudly, wearing masks and keeping distanced but banging pots and pans.

Apart from making noise on the streets, campaigners are ramping up to try and make the Mietendeckel (rent lid) applicable nationwide. With Die Linke, the SPD and at least some Greens supporting this, it will be a key election issue. Although Berlin has a significantly high percentage of renters, the figure in other parts of Germany still exceeds that of homeowners in being almost 60%.

• 

We still just want an affordable flat

Rent-lid nationwide

So, losing the battle to perhaps win the war. We shall see. Towards the end of the month, the weather improved too and gave rise to optimism. Maybe spring would arrive soon after all, the skies turned bluer and the buds were waiting.

Berlin Corona Diary #24 – Hemmed in

Barricaded Trümmerfrau

Mid to late March

Mid-March 2021 combined disappointment with mild panic. Of course the expectation after an almost exact year of pandemic was to have a neat end, or at least to see a way out. But no. The infection rate was still over a hundred, almost 200, in Berlin. The politicians met, online of course, and their meeting went on and on and after taking a long break in the early hours, Angela Merkel came back and announced that there’d be a close down of all businesses and shops for an extra day extending a long public holiday weekend to act as an emergency break in an attempt to stop the virus in its infecting tracks or at least slow it seriously down. Within hours she was contradicted and she retracted – this option was seen as recklessly impossible in that grinding commerce to a halt, especially giving people an unheard-of, impromptu day off, was considered too beyond the pale, even when faced with a deadly disease. Other measures were introduced. FFP2 masks were to be worn not just in shops and on public transport but even on some busy streets and outdoor markets. Despite Brexit being a definite thing, I couldn’t help noticing the provenance of one set of masks I bought. Annoyingly there were no more vouchers sent out to reduce costs for poorer or older people.

Two weekly tests were to be made available, free of charge at test centres in most neighbourhoods, often occupying temporarily empty buildings, in my neighbourhood a large school, whose students presumably were having remote lessons. The production of proof of a negative test could allow entry to some non-essential shops but only with a booked appointment.

The tests were swift if uncomfortable but the hardest thing initially was the registration process which was meant to produce a QR code, essential for each visit. There were more stages to this than seemed obvious and though this probably meant data was ultra-protected it felt confusing and labrynthine. The staff, however, were helpful and noticeably young. I wondered about their wages but they seemed cheerful and committed enough, grateful for a chance to be out and about with other people maybe. The streets were still pretty empty, which was partly due to the wet, cold weather but also because there was still nowhere really to go. And no-one coming to visit. Being inside a city-centre hotel and witnessing their famous cylindrical fishtank, I almost envied its occupants their freeform sociability.

I was only passing through for a work assignment and there weren’t any overnight guests so the place seemed forlornly vacant. Nearby, a mall was equally deathly still, the wooden man sculpture on his tall lonely plinth almost the only other soul to be seen.

A more relaxed looking statue from an earlier era stood facing the Rote Rathaus (the red city hall). The male counterpart of the “Trümmerfrau” or rubble woman seen above behind a barricade, he stood rolling up one sleeve as if casually ready for the next course of action.

Both he and his stone companion had been hidden while work was done on the new underground station on the U5, at last joining up Alexanderplatz to the Hauptbahnhof main railway station. He was at least free now while she still stood behind hoardings.

The new station is cool and classy but was of course also deserted. Sadly the decor, though slick, doesn’t echo the hue of its namesake.

Slightly further west and just over the river, the new Humboldt Forum seems ready but can’t yet admit visitors. The east facing facade is meant to contrast with the flamboyance of the recreated Schloss it is part of but the choice seems oddly abrupt and grimly austere. It faces the Marx and Engels statue and the bridge before it has the name of another famous German revolutionary. I heard a commentator saying that this side of the building was a nod towards the Palast it had replaced. I have to say it is a literally pale imitation.

The Schloss and Forum look over the road to the Dom, Berlin’s main cathedral. At least one of its towers sported exhortations to older people and medical staff to get vaccinated.

So the DDR worker statue wasn’t the only one rolling his sleeve up.

The city streets elsewhere were just as solitary. The charming old Nikolai Viertel stood shuttered and silent.

WithinWi

Within it, Berlin’s emblematic bear sat clutching an eagle shield behind wrought iron bars. No outdoor space seemed to offer the potential for imagining other possibilities last evident in the summer of 2020. Everything seemed more sequestered and more unavailable than ever.

Easter was of course on its way, with the association, even in pagan terms, of regeneration. A local church chose some interestingly female iconography above its door to announce the coming festival.

The figures, by Polina Soloveichik represented Anne, Mary’s mother, Mary and Mary Magdalen. Inside the church, one of the few interiors accessible without either booking or having a negative test result, held a more traditional image, the motif of rescue from peril not being short of resonance for our current time.

A much more challenging use of a symbol associated with Easter was used on a gable end in central Berlin. This was to illustrate the injustice of the seemingly endless incarcaration of Julian Assange as a martyr for press freedom and protection for publishers. Designed by Captain Borderline it was being installed just before Good Friday. A powerful image full of disturbing details and a justly urgent call for freedom for both the man and the stories that need to be told.

Another very sad shrine to unnecessary suffering was erected in our neighbourhood for a cyclist mowed down by a lorry. A very badly designed cycle route was blamed for her death as well as the lack of certain safety measures on the lorry. The sign gives her age and the date she was killed.

Other written notes pinned on the bike exhorted the authorities to rectify the route so that accidents like this do not happen in future.

The capacity to swiftly respond and communicate on the streets is one of the most admirable things about Berlin. Elsewhere in the neighbourhood, I was surprised to come across what seemed like a Tintin cartoon with an anarchist twist plastered up on a wall. Captain Haddock appeared to be much more politically aware than in Hergé’s original, wearing a sweater bearing what appears to be a black star. In the strip below, he’s saying “Look around you, what do you see? Wealth…and poverty! (A job-center official is saying to the woman: “No co-operation, no social security sweetheart.”) ‘Haddock’ continues “The rich are shitting on us all over”

The ensuing section seemed to involve ‘Tintin’ pointing out the ways that patriarchal conditioning and structures undermine the lives of men as much as they do women, that it’s a lose-lose situation for the majority of people.

The Tintin character’s explanation has been provoked by the ‘Captain’s’ anger and wish to seize back power. In the frame showing him with a Molotov cocktail at the ready, ‘Tintin’ asks him to pause while he says a few things about power and control.

For some reason, in German, Tintin is called Tim and the dog’s name is Struppi. But the provenance of the adapted strip is actually older and English. It was first published in April 1988 under the title of The Adventures of Tintin: Breaking Free It has clearly been someone’s labour of love to produce this German translation of a section called “Patriarchy is our Prison” and paste it up for all to read.

Another anti-patriarchal paste-up was at large in the normally titled Herrfurthplatz. The Herr in this instance is just the start of a surname rather than being Mr Furth, but as a perhaps public gesture to Women’s Day, the signs had a gender reassignment. Though not so conspicuous in number in public in Berlin this March, people continued to defiantly make their mark.

Berlin Corona Diary #23 – The more we are together…

Heads in a furloughed beauty salon ask themselves ‘What now?’

Mid to late February, a fortnight of two seasons. When the snow came again mid month it felt like a blessing, especially as it came for a while. Though the days were still dark and monochrome, the thick bright whiteness creaking underfoot transformed all our landscapes. After several days of persistent snowfall, any outdoor slope was singing with squeals and chatter as children on sledges (and some adults) propelled themselves down, down and down again, as seen here in Hasenheide: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nnqBdCD0lEI Outdoors was still the only place to be social but even that was monitored. On the day I shot the above video, we saw two separate patrol cars from the Ordnungsamt, the municipal authorities with the power to enforce regulations and issue fines for transgressions, cruising around the park. No one was reprimanded that we saw but the officers were clearly keeping an eye on just how heavy the crowds were getting and how much distancing might be compromised. Because with the new and more infectious variants still raging, we couldn’t ease up on the caution. But the winter wonderland offered us escape, things were the same but not the same, for a change.

Then when the sun came, the magic was compounded and gave a sense of hope, the lightening up, the blue skies. And it made it even easier to spend time out in the only alternative to ‘at home’ there was (at least for those us not still forced into a workplace or performing essential services).

One particularly stunning Sunday morning saw frost glistening on branches under the sunniest sky.

The field, Tempelhofer Feld, remained the most welcoming destination and the most hugely popular. While not having the slopes for sledging, it is vast enough for throngs, spacious enough for safety. Two rather bedraggled posters still feature on a board in the neighbourhood celebrating what the Feld is and what it means to both those local and those who just love to be there. The first poster says “2014, we saved the field” showing a graphic of people forming a protective cordon around the land that was to remain 100% Tempelhofer Feld after a very successful referendum. The second poster says “2020, the field saved us“. The picture and the year speak for themselves.

But the below freezing temperatures didn’t bring happiness to everyone. A couple of disabled friends had to wait for a thaw to get their wheelchairs outside again. And a few streets away on the doorstep of a shuttered shop, countless photos, tributes, messages, flowers, offerings and candles accumulated to honour and mourn a young man called Markus. He had lived and died on the street. Familiar to most who spent time in the Kiez (neighbourhood), he would be seen lying near the U-Bahn Boddinstraße, singing to himself or drawing. In the fiercer hot weather, he would cry out as if in pain. He would sleep on mattresses in the open. Even during the siege/demo around the closing of Syndikat (the iconic anarchist local), Markus was allowed to wander through police lines as he clearly didn’t occupy a realm where their kind of reasoning was effective, though nor was he any threat to them. As a long typed text, taped to the doorway/shrine, from a man who saw him regularly anguished over, Markus resisted help of the kind which would impinge on his liberty. It was hard to know if he had unwittingly chosen a death in the cold or whether the system itself failed to find a way to protect him. There are several cold shelters in Berlin and many homeless people make use of them, especially on nights that offer hyperthermia as the only other option. Short of forced removal, it is hard to know how the peripatetic staff of such places can ensure that someone as determined to be free as Markus could have got lifesaving shelter. Looking at all the photographic memories and pieces of writing, he had had a circle of friends, had had a vibrant life. Very often it isn’t easy to know how to help when someone wants to do it all their way, when you lose the way to reach them. RIP Markus.

Sadly, Markus, who actually died in early January, wasn’t the only person missed and mourned. 19th February saw the first anniversary of a heinous massacre of young people relaxing in a Shisha bar in Hanau. The events and the way they were handled or could have perhaps even been prevented, inflamed never dormant fears, anger and mistrust in communities towards authorities they feel could do much more to tackle the growing violence and aggression from the far right in Germany. A poster made mention of other murderous and fatal attacks that make Hanau no ‘one-off’ performed by a crazed lone gunman. As well as remembering those killed, the poster featuring their faces, demanded justice, an explanation and consequences. News reports conveyed a sense too of the anger still unresolved: https://www.dw.com/en/mass-shooting-in-hanau-grief-and-rage-persist-one-year-on/a-56612160 Every corner of every street around us bore some mention of the sadly infamous town. A Litfaßsäule, advertising column, bearing the face of one of the young men murdered has the words: “Remembering means fighting, for a society of solidarity against the normalisation of racism. The slogan – ‘Say Their Names’ – featured on not just posters but in graffiti and outside otherwise furloughed places like the cinema Babylon Kreuzberg.

There were several rallies too. Such a despicable act unites people in sadness and revulsion but hopefully also solidarity. Nearby the Hanau poster on the local supermarket window, a smaller one with the picture of a Lithuanian Jewish resistance fighter and survivor of the Holocaust, bore her words: “As long as I can keep going, I take it as my duty to keep saying: It should never be repeated”. Another allied poster just under it reads: “Everywhere racism is beginning again and also fascism, and I say: always fight against it.”

In these times of depending on each other so much, unity is vital, not just for now but beyond the pandemic too. As the graffiti says below “Corona divides us, capitalism too!”

Though it has to be said some of the everyday visual insistence of capitalism, at least in the form of shops and bars, is somewhat diluted at the moment. Before the only other date February is famous for, a local flower shop apologised to its customers via blackboard that normal service in the shop, could not be resumed even before Valentine’s Day. Purchases would still be possible but on a be-masked, take-away basis.

Some places can’t even offer that and another blackboard, outside a closed and bolted bar, poignantly told its exiled customers that the staff were working from home, drinking beer there instead, exhorting us all to look after ourselves. A poster in the window of the same bar said balefully, below the word CLOSED, “Without us, Berlin is just poor again”, playing on the rather notorious slogan an erstwhile flamboyant Mayor of city once coined “Berlin is poor, but sexy“.

The posters are an initiative of Bars of Berlin, an association set up last year to protect not just bars but those who work in them and hope one day to return to. https://www.bars-of-berlin.de/Startseite/

Despite the separated nature of life, however, people are coming together in all sorts of ways. Perhaps taking inspiration from a poster outside the closed florists…

…or by these posters, asking us to “Just imagine…the little cafe now has enough place for tables, your children can play just outside the door”. From an initiative called Referendum Berlin Car-Free, they are not the only signs of people’s wish for more space, cleaner air and less noise. http://volksentscheid-berlin-autofrei.de/

A very localised group promoting the idea of reinstating a central promenade to replace the double strip of parked cars invited would-be supporters to join whether English speakers or German.

This was seen on a new addition to the street furniture and on the site of a long-standing Litfaßsäule. Calling itself Kiez Eck (neighbourhood corner) it held info as well as a book donation point.

From this smaller, very specific action to a city-wide campaign to try to ensure a sustainably affordable city. The Deutsche Wohnen & Co Enteignen group launched their next signature gathering bid. https://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=de&u=https://www.dwenteignen.de/&prev=search&pto=aue I deliberated over whether to join them on the streets but despite the knowledge that they would be following all the hygiene measures, I baulked at speaking to more strangers than I had the whole of last year, however thick my mask was. So in lieu of being there myself, I donated a pack of sanistising stuff and a just opened box of masks as well taking away some sheets to try and get neighbours to sign.

The more we are together (even if not in physical proximity) the happier we will be, as the song goes. The neighbourhood has many informal ways of showing how together it is in looking out for each other even in unconventional ways. The usual donations of random clothes, shoes or household items on the street continues. In Herrfurthstraße, someone has given the streetlamp some atmospheric shading via a discarded T-Shirt. Just underneath, a wealth of protein balls await a flock of hungry sparrows.

And other life developments are proceeding, the daily offer of quality bread via the community bakery window continues, a recent hit being an Uckermarker, a rye and spelt sourdough circular loaf. A centre for non-profit journalism is taking shape on the main street of Hermannstraße.

Near the end of the month, as swiftly as the snow had come, the temperatures soared to uncanny, unseasonal highs of around 18C. This was from being -8C. The warm snap only lasted a few days but brought people out in greater numbers. This felt overwhelmingly natural, spring doing its thing, but also unnerving as the rates of transmission had already started to climb again. The crocuses in the park didn’t care and pushed up through the early grass and last autumn’s leaves

On the very last day of the month, someone got it together to give pause for thought and created another shrine. The numbers show those who had died in Germany (D) by the end of February and those (NK) in Neukölln.

Berlin Corona Diary #22 – windows on the world

January and first week of February. The snowiest, coldest spell so far in this pandemic saga, curtailing outdoor trips unless accompanied by a rare shaft of sunlight. The lockdown is officially extended into the middle of February but most likely longer. The newer, more infectious Corona variants, officially ascribed letters and numbers but most commonly tagged with the nationality of the country they first emerged in: British, Brazillian, South African, give cause for even more social caution. Contact recedes even more than it normally would at this time of year. And yet…

In the absence of actual meeting and encounter, it is in the traces of human activity that poignance and solace can found. Just after Silvester, the German New Year’s Eve, on which this year for the first time in most people’s memories, the loudest bangers and fireworks were prohibited in certain zones around the city and their sale banned beforehand, silver confetti lay scattered on cobbles indicating a determination to explode something, anything, glittering into the first moments of that dark uncertainty.

A local bar, closed until further notice like all bars in Berlin, had put a handwritten poster, declaring their “Pandemic break” and bearing a quote from Schopenhauer up in one of its windows.

“What makes people sociable is their inability to bear loneliness and, in it, themselves.”

I wondered where the bar staff were, who were longing for the sociability of their customers and whether the customers missed them as much. No easy answers.

Windows seemed thematic. Before Christmas, a church poster aimed at reassurance was stuck on the Litfassäule just outside.

“Even when so much becomes different…community remains. Because we need hope. Christmas 2020” The lit up windows were everywhere, every evening. Even on a Saturday night, the souls in the house across the street were all (hopefully safe) at home.

And on our street itself, another window now offers a bread service on weekdays, offering many varieties of delicious ‘regional breads’, with a discounted, rotating ‘mystery bread” available. Taking advantage of this bargain, so far we’ve had rye Bauernbrot and a Dinkel (spelt) loaf. I’m not sure if absences of baking/sales staff or unexpected popularity led to the “unfortunately no bread today” sign the day I took the picture. Normally one rings the bell for service, next to the arrow and “Bitte klingeln”. Another chance to shop without actually going inside, bread has always been take-away but this is another level.

A kind of stir-crazy energy was captured in a nearby art gallery, where a grey tube struggled to stay contained within one room and spooled off into an adjoining one. Not open to the public as such, the window was the viewing portal, with the artist’s name on the glass.

Not everyone managed to keep a lid on their energy, especially in light of the blatant inequalities displayed for all to see on our screens. One local resident, or maybe they worked collectively, could no longer repress their outrage and daubed around what we might presume are their windows, the names and statistics that scream economic injustice.

Not every outward creative expression held such graphic pain or carried poltical clout. The snow at the start of the year and again in February brought a plethora of snowpeople into the world, each one unique and with something to say, albeit in a not so decipherable language.

The Notes of Berlin instagram site even posted a snow-corona-ball today https://www.instagram.com/p/CK_hOCxhubp/?hl=en

Many other wild creations will no doubt rise and melt in the coming days of high expected snowfall.

An initiative that is rising and which won’t melt away is the campaign to save the affordable dwellings for the community living and working at the address of Hermannstrasse 48. The building is home and a workspace to some 140 people who say, in their words:

We demand that the district does their best to prevent the sale of, and to contain the general sellout of, our city to real estate speculators!

• We want the administration of the district of Neukölln to enforce the right of first refusal (Vorkaufsrecht)!
• We want the sales contract to be taken over by a third party oriented towards the interest of the community! 
• We demand that politicians of the district and the city of Berlin commit to ensuring long term affordable housing for all people living at H48.
• For a lively, united and colorful Schillerkiez!

To see more about the campaign and read the individual stories of the tenants go to the English version of their site: https://www.h48bleibt.org/english/

Of course maintaining an affordable city is an ongoing topic city-wide in Berlin and despite the short-term victory in the Senat ensuring rents cannot mushroom out of control and even bringing some excessive residential rents down, the law itself is due to be contested so things remain in flux. A big counter-mover is the campaign group Deutsche Wohnen Enteignen. The last word means expropriate and Deutsche Wohnen is one of the city’s biggest private landlords. An article in English magazine Ex-Berliner explained where things were at by the end of September last year: https://www.exberliner.com/features/opinion/red-flag-deutsche-wohnen/

Currently, the group are moving into the second phase of collecting signatures, which is explained here: https://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=de&u=https://www.dwenteignen.de/&prev=search&pto=aue

Any donations are also much needed and very welcome. This should take you to the English page (for “coal” read dosh) https://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=de&u=https://www.dwenteignen.de/&prev=search&pto=aue

Another development in January was the stipulation that cloth masks or scarves were not deemed protective enough of individual or community health when worn in shops or public transport. Instead one of three forms of medical mask, the ubiquitous, often blue, nursing mask or a higher quality N95 mask or even higher grade FFP2 mask would be required. The onerous expense of this (having bought quite an array of washable cloth masks) was somewhat assuaged for me, being of an age where the government wishes to issue vouchers for the reduced purchase of the highest grade masks. After a tense wait, the two vouchers (for 6 masks each on payment of 2€) arrived just into February. As they are time-limited (the first only valid till 28th of this month), I bought my first batch right away.