Nazis Back in Spandau's Citadel

I’ve been thinking about my blog lately as for various reasons – one of them being that for much of the least fifteen months I’ve been busy doing actual paid work – I’ve not written anything since the New Year. This year I’ve also had to fit in a few unplanned trips to the UK because my mum had an accident and couldn’t walk for a while. But aside from the practical demands on my time, I think I’d also lost some of my enthusiasm for the blog. I’d always tried to keep my posts upbeat, even when things weren’t going very well, but it's difficult trying to remain chipper in the face of a seemingly endless avalanche of calamitous news – both personal and global.

A major cause of dismay for me has been the rise of the far right in Britain and elsewhere. I’m convinced that the unwavering determination of the BBC to promote the nauseating Nigel Farage at every given opportunity has succeeded in normalising his repugnant views and thus emboldening British racists. Here in Germany, the abhorrent AfD has also been gaining support and looks set to become the first far-right party in 60 years to enter the German parliament in tomorrow’s election.

A couple of weeks ago Farage came to town to address the AfD at the invitation of Beatrix von Storch, the granddaughter of Hitler’s former finance minister. The event took place in the Zitadelle in Spandau – the moated fortress in which Nazi prisoner Rudolph Hess had been held until his suicide in 1987 (in fact, only last month the far right marched through Spandau to commemorate the 30^th anniversary of Hess’s death). In order to minimise counter protests, the AfD event was only announced two days before it took place but a group called ‘The Coalition Berlin’ managed to get a social media alert out that they would be protesting so we set off to join them. It was a small gathering with thirty or so people but it was heavily policed and we were ordered to take our protest across the road, a wide and busy dual carriageway. 

In the relentless drizzle, armed with placards and a loudspeaker, and guarded by about half a dozen police officers, we sang songs and chanted anti-fascist slogans, to the bewilderment of passing pedestrians and cyclists who had no idea what was happening in the Zitadelle and hence no idea what we were protesting about. One or two of the better prepared had brought pots and pans to clank together for extra noise. Farage was due to deliver his address at 3.00 and there was to be some sort of party afterwards. By about 3.30 party guests had begun to arrive and at this point – presumably once the ‘important’ personages had all been safely installed in the fortress – we were allowed to cross back over to protest at the entrance. This allowed us a closer look at the far-right revellers as they arrived on foot and by bus in their Friday afternoon finery.

By 4.30 we decided that we had done as much as we could. We had been there since 2.00, remaining vocal despite the weather. Some of the protesters had left, having been on their lunch break from work, others had arrived, having finished work early. But the important thing was that we had been there to make a stand. We even attracted the attention of a couple of journalists, and the protest, small though it had been, earned a brief mention in the Guardian. The presence of Farage on a far-right platform however was naturally ignored by the BBC.