Too Hot for Politics
We showed up at Kottbusser Tor in the worst heat of the afternoon. 90 degrees, maybe worse. This was the NSA protest, the surveillance thing, Snowden, all of it. Two thousand people had gathered at Heinrichplatz in Kreuzberg to say something about it, and we figured we should be there too.
The street was already a mess. Sweating faces everywhere, a few people wearing V for Vendetta masks that were already soaked through. An open truck was blocking traffic, covered in signs, some old ravers grinning like it was 1999, handing out free protest merchandise. Cops were shouting directions. The whole thing looked like a time machine had crashed.
A young guy with long hair, dark sunglasses, and an Edward Snowden T-shirt grabbed the mic. He started welcoming the crowd, saying things I’d already heard on the news. I wasn’t really paying attention—I was focused on the mechanics of sweating without looking pathetic, which is harder than it sounds. That’s Stefan Aumueller,
someone said behind me. The crowd clapped. I thought we were about to march somewhere important, that maybe we’d actually accomplish something. I had no idea what was coming.
A fat Pirate in a cowboy hat took the microphone next. Then a tall guy. Then an American woman—probably a civil rights activist, probably well-meaning—who spent a good fifteen minutes talking about the long history of her country, the Cold War, making sure everyone knew that not all Americans are idiots. The crowd groaned. A kid started crying. I glared at the parents. What were they thinking, bringing a child to this in this heat? They looked back confused. Apparently data protection was worth risking heat stroke for.
Edward Snowden T-shirt guy came back. We’re going to listen to a ten-minute audio piece,
he said, and then we’ll march.
The crowd booed. Let’s go now,
someone yelled. Quick huddle with the old ravers. Yeah, okay, we’re going now. Everyone cheered. A man waved a Die Linke flag. A woman held up some books—probably relevant, but I wasn’t checking.
I was already done with the whole thing. It was clear that most people here had confused ideas about what we were actually doing. We were supposed to show the German government and the world that we didn’t want the NSA spying on us. That was it. But instead we were getting party advertisements and history lectures and who knows what else. My head was throbbing.
The truck started making dull electronic sounds and ran over about a third of the crowd when it turned around. Then we started moving. I took a few photos, but my companion and I drifted toward the back. You actually want to march with these people?
they asked. I shook my head. While dutiful parents and sweating Pirates and the American woman made their way into central Berlin, we pushed our overheated bodies toward the nearest U-Bahn. The rest of the afternoon was cold drinks on a balcony. Someone had to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the end of the Korean War. Nobody else was going to.