A Wall, A Change, and Hope

Where were you twenty years ago? I was in a place called Berlin.

Today marks the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, what Germans call “Die Wende” – “The Change” for those not familiar with the language. There are few moments in our lives which rise above the norm, connecting us to something grander in humanity. The instant the Berlin Wall ceased to be a barrier was such an moment.

You know the background, right? Built to keep the masses of the German Democratic Republic from fleeing into the West, the Wall was portrayed to East Germans as a protective barrier against the evils of capitalist aggressors. Uh-huh. Sure. Did anyone truly believe that line? No. They didn’t.

The Wall was a “pragmatic” solution to stem the flow of humanity from an oppressive environment to one of greater opportunity. It imprisoned a people and embodied all that is wrong in a government and society ruled by mistrust. The East German regime mostly took value from its citizenry, rather than providing value to it. That said, a whitewashed historical perspective of the fall of the Wall as “good prevailing over evil” is too simple, too easy to fully portray the nature of this profound moment.

I had the good fortune to build a relationship with the city and the people of Berlin over several years. Having first arrived there in late 1984, I kept returning to this fascinating island of special status embedded in the midst of the German Democratic Republic. Berlin became my second home. It is the only place other than Northern California where I feel completely connected to my surroundings, a colorful thread in the broad, vibrant tapestry of life weaving its way through time.

During the years leading up to November, 1989 I had studied in West Berlin, worked on a construction site in East Berlin, and cultivated enduring friendships on both sides of the Wall. For most of us who grew up in the West, there’s this feeling that folks “on the other side” were oppressed, solemn, and sad. My experiences confounded such stereotypes.

East Germans were, yes, keenly aware of the elements of their government and the threat of its security forces. They were cautious about new acquaintances and openly skeptical of folks who acted too warmly, too quickly. Given the Orwellian aspects of the state apparatus, such skepticism was both warranted and understandable. With time to build trust and a relationship, though, the friendships I established in the East have proven among the strongest and most profound of my life.

And thus, we have set the scene for the events of late 1989. During the autumn of that year, pressure continually mounted within East Germany. As Hungary and Czechoslovakia took cautious steps towards greater openness with West, more and more East Germans manifested their dissatisfaction with their own government… by finding ways to “escape” to the West and by taking to the streets in unprecedented numbers. As the protests mounted in frequency and scale, many worried about violence erupting in an angry government backlash.

The cycle of protest, worry, and discussion, protest, worry, and discussion built on itself. The tension was palpable in West Berlin and positively oozing through the streets of East Berlin. And then, POOF! Tension gone. Exuberance, relief, joy, disbelief, and hope exploded in its place. The Wall - the impenetrable, deadly Wall - transformed into a convoluted concrete gateway, the anachronistic vestige of a rapidly warming Cold War.

To be in the midst of an outpouring of welcome, hope, and love shared by millions simultaneously was awe-inspiring. Life, with its daily nuisances and distractions, stood patiently to one side while History danced in the light for a bit. Complete strangers were welcomed as family at each border crossing. The distinctions between Easterners and Westerners were, at least temporarily, subjugated by elation and celebration.

Twenty years on, the sheen has dulled some, the hope dimmed considerably, but for those of us swept up in the current of that incredible moment of change there is a lingering desire to work towards a better future. We believe, I believe, in the potential of humanity to do good. The darkness of East Germany’s history made the brightness of reconnecting East and West the more bedazzling.

The optimism of that moment changed me and motivates me to this day. Some may call it naïve, but hope drives much that I do… and my hope sprang forth twenty years ago, in a place called Berlin.