Day of German Unity

Yesterday, October 3, was the Tag der Deutschen Einheit. It marked the 16th anniversary of the day when East and West Germany constitutionally became one country again.

Those of you up on your recent history (which would not have been me, but I know some of you are into "political science" and "current events") will be scratching their heads and saying, "Hang on, the Berlin Wall fell on November 9, 1989. Wouldn't that have been a much more fitting day to celebrate?"

It probably would; as my roommates here say, it's the day that carries the most emotional resonance with the people who lived through it. Unfortunately, November 9th has a few other meanings in German history. It was the date of the Kristallnacht, the Nazi attack on Jewish offices and synagogues, in 1938. It was also the date of Hitler's Munich coup in 1923. The new united government was afraid that making November 9 the official national holiday would be an invitation to Neo-Nazis to demonstrate on that day, as well as an uncomfortable reminder of the less than happy elements of German history. So, they went for the less evocative but more official date of October 3, 1990.

I find this confluence of dates strangely fascinating. It's like Thomas Jefferson and John Adams dying on the same day, a day that just happened to be July 4th and the 50th year after the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It makes you wonder about coincidences.

Anyway, there was sort of a city party in the area around the Brandenburger Tor, which is a symbol of the united city, since it was previously stuck inbetween the wall. There was music, food stands, the usual things you see at a street fair sort of occasion.

The only serious reflection on what the day meant was a conversation I heard near one of the government buildings, away from the main event. There's this neat little garden area where the articles of the constitution are posted on slabs of glass, and people tend to stop and read them. I overheard a younger and an older man talking; the younger one (he was maybe 30) was saying that 16 years isn't that long, and that people need more time to figure out what it means to be German. He added that his nephew, who was born after the wall fell, has joined a neo-Nazi gang: "he sees pictures of his Great-Uncle Paul in the photo albums, when Paul was in the SS, and he thinks it's all nice uniforms and making Germany great again."

The other man, who was probably old enough to remember the war, or at least its aftermath, shook his head. "They're just kids," he said. "They're just playing. They don't know anything."

And that was about as long as I felt I could eavesdrop without being rude.