On May Day in Berlin, I awakened to the sound of footsteps and shouting. Just outside my window, a group of black-clad “Autonome” protesters were running by on the cobblestones, noses and mouths covered with bandannas, eyes hidden by sunglasses. They, along with others, had been protesting a planned neo-Nazi march through my neighborhood of Prenzlauerberg, when the police interceded and herded them out of the way. They responded with a hail of smoke bombs and stones, and retreated through residential streets to regroup.
It was just the beginning of a long and hectic day of crowds, protests and police. It took my German flatmate a few tries to fully explain the situation to me:
Contrary to popular belief in the US, neo-Nazis are not out-and-out banned in Germany. The far-right party here, the National Democratic Party, is legally entitled to demonstrate like any other political party, although they are not allowed to display swastikas or directly link themselves to Hitler’s Nazi regime. So, when they go to city hall and apply for a permit to have a demonstration march, city hall has to allow it. And legally, the police have to protect the demonstrators as they would those from any other group.
Naturally, no one else in town is too happy about this, but that’s how it has to be. The only solution is to stage such a massive protest that the police tell the Nazis to go home for their own safety. And that’s exactly what happened. All day along. Around the corner from my apartment.
Beginning at 10am, the anti-Nazi protesters started gathering at two locations along the neo-Nazi’s planned demonstration route. At the beginning, the police cleared them out of the way – without permits, they weren’t technically allowed to block the road. In a well-publicized incident, even Vice President of the German parliament, Wolfgang Thierse, sat down in the street to protest – and he was gently removed, like all the others.
Twitter updates came in rapid succession: “Location A has been cleared out, everyone available proceed to Location B.” But location B was unreachable due to police blockades. Finally, one location managed to get a permit, and people from all over town started pouring in. By noon, as my flatmate and I cautiously poked our heads around the corner to check on the mayhem, we were pleasantly surprised to find a giant, peaceful protest blocking the entire four-lane road.
Home made banners reading “Nazi’s Out” and “No Violence” had been hastily scrawled on old bed sheets, and green balloons with the slogan “No Room for Nazis” bobbed in the breeze. A double row of barricades crossed the entire street, and behind them stood police, shoulder-to-shoulder in full riot gear. The message was clear: we could stand there and peacefully block the parade route, but nobody was getting through where they could start any real trouble.
The sign above his head displays the message: Due to protests and police blockades, there is no tram service at this time.
Fortunately the stone-throwing black-bloc protesters had disappeared somewhere else, and as the crowd grew throughout the next couple of hours the mood remained relaxed and sociable.
The balloon reads: No Room for Nazis
Around 2pm, the neo-Nazi demonstrators were still nowhere to be seen, and I headed back to my apartment for a while. I planned to take the train to another part of town, where each year there is a massive street festival with music, food, and enough people to jam every street within a 5 block radius. At about 4pm, I headed out the door with my camera, and was happy to see that the protests near my place seemed to have thinned without incident. I should have known better.
As I walked towards the train station, I suddenly came upon a new group of protesters, even larger than the one from that morning. They had reassembled and were blocking every side street leading up to the station, preventing the neo-Nazis from redirecting their march to get around the initial blockade. I managed to squeeze my way through the crowds, and the police guarding the station politely let passengers through. I bought a ticket and, seeing that I had 1o minutes to kill before my train arrived, headed back outside.
As I took the photo above, the police politely stood aside as I exited – and then, responding to a message on their walkie-talkies, closed off both entrances and refused to let anyone inside. The station, with it’s long staircases and front-and-back entrances, would be a strategic nightmare for them if the demonstrations got out of hand. I was stuck inside my own neighborhood. The trams had long since stopped running, the main train station was blocked off, and the other nearby train line had cut off service several stations south from me. I headed south by foot until I was out of the protest area and found a tram line that was still in service.
As I finally squeezed my way onto the packed tram half-an-hour later, a neighboring passenger managed to elbow enough room for himself to fish the ringing cell phone out of his pocket. He spoke briefly to his friend on the line, then announced to the entire car: “The Nazis gave up! They turned around and went home!”
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May Day in Berlin -Images by Kristal Burtrum
