So, 35 years ago today, the Berlin Wall came tumbling down, and I know what you’re thinking: wait, how old was I in 1989, and was that really the end of the Cold War? (Answer: Yes! And also: Yes, but your knees were way less creaky back then). But let’s back up a bit and talk about why a 12-foot concrete slab splitting Berlin in half was the kind of thing that got the whole world cheering when it fell.
For the uninitiated, the Berlin Wall was the Soviet Union’s answer to, “How do we keep people from sneaking over to where the grass is greener?” Only instead of a no trespassing sign, they put up 27 miles of concrete, barbed wire, guard towers, and occasionally friendly reminder bullets if anyone tried to hop over. The year was 1961, and Berlin was the epicenter of a classic case of “Your stuff is ours, and our stuff is, well, also ours.” West Berlin was practically this shiny, democratic postcard while East Berlin was the grim other half of the holiday photo, courtesy of the Soviet Union.
So what happened if you wanted to join Aunt Mildred on the other side of the wall? Well, it wasn’t exactly encouraged. People who tried got arrested, shot, or went missing somewhere in the no-man’s land between the concrete slabs. Over the years, about 140 people were killed just trying to get to the other side, reminding the world that, apparently, walls are great for keeping people in, too.
Then, the late 1980s roll around. It was the dawn of Michael Jordan, jazzercise, and oh, massive political shifts across Eastern Europe. When Hungary opened its border with Austria, East Germans basically said, “Hey, if Hungary can do it, why not us?” Thousands of people took to the streets demanding the kind of rights we usually only complain about in traffic or long grocery lines. They’d had enough, and they wanted the whole concrete mess gone.
And then came the big night—November 9, 1989. A government spokesperson got up, probably after one too many coffees, and said that East Germans could cross the border. People heard that, looked around, and went, “Well, don’t mind if we do.” And there it was: in one night, the Wall went from “The Great Divide” to the world’s biggest DIY demo project. People showed up with sledgehammers, pickaxes, and a healthy dose of “Stick it to the Man” energy. There were hugs, tears, and what might be the world’s happiest traffic jam as people poured across the border for the first time in nearly three decades.
Now, let’s fast forward to today, November 9, 2024. We’re in the United States, home of freedom, democracy, and now, thanks to this latest election, Donald Trump 2.0. This time, not as the celebrity wild card but as a president whose former staff call him a “fascist dictator on the rise.” (Note: When people who’ve worked for you start saying things like that, it’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.)
So, what can the Berlin Wall teach us, besides the obvious “don’t build giant walls?” Here’s lesson number one: Walls don’t fix the problem. Whether it’s the Berlin Wall, a wall on our southern border, or the figurative walls we build in politics to shut each other out, they don’t really work. They’re basically putting a bandage on a cracked pipe. You may slow down the leak, but it’s going to burst eventually. East Germany learned that the hard way, and they had to tear down a literal wall. Now, we have to deal with tearing down walls that are, well, just as rigid but a lot sneakier.
Lesson number two? Fear is a lousy long-term strategy. The Berlin Wall was built because East Germany was terrified of losing control, so they tried to contain their people, restrict them, make them afraid to even think about escape. Sound familiar? What’s happening here is that democracy gets corralled by walls of paranoia, and that’s when leaders who know better try to wedge themselves into indefinite power. If you think that could never happen here, remember that a mere 35 years ago, people thought East Germany would stand forever too.
And here’s a big one: Unity is powerful. The people of East Berlin could’ve kept their heads down and gone on with their lives. But when the cracks started appearing, they stood up. They saw an opening, and they went for it. That’s something Americans can learn from—standing together, even if it means listening to your cousin’s political rants on Facebook just a little bit longer to understand where they’re coming from. Because if we don’t bridge those gaps? We’re not far off from needing our own metaphorical sledgehammers.
So, 35 years after the Berlin Wall fell, here’s the big takeaway: walls don’t last. They can’t hold back progress, freedom, or people who really, really want a better life. They’re temporary by nature because people are tenacious. They want to be free, even if it means putting up with a lot of noise from the other side. We just have to make sure we’re the ones with the hammers, not the ones hiding behind concrete, praying it never cracks.
We stand on the precipice of a time when political oppression in America will be as palpable as it was in East Berlin in 1961. What we do with that will be entirely up to us. Will we suffer decades of oppression for the sake of keeping to a bastardized form of peace that mostly looks just like trying to stay alive and eek out a meager existence, or will we, like the brave people who forged this country, stand up, and with a loud, proud voice, declare, “give us liberty, or give us death?”
