Crisis Under Construction – A day trip to Berlin

Berlin is currently seen by many across Europe not only as a place that accommodates alternative and affordable living in the midst of the crisis, but also as the political centre from which the harsh austerity measures that are devastating Southern European societies are laid out. What is often overlooked is that Berlin itself as a city has undergone a situation of crisis for most of its recent existence, struggling with a sluggish economy, high public debt as well as precarious working and living conditions. Today, more than ever, Berlin is a city marked by the divisive forces of capital and the accelerating privatization and financialisation of real-estate. In the following text, we present a short résumé of an imaginary one-day dérive through different locations in Berlin. We juxtapose concrete impressions of social struggles, gentrifying neighbourhoods and shifting urban landscapes that open pathways for a further inquiry into the realities of crises in Berlin.

8.00 a.m // Berlin-Spandau / Pillnitzer Weg

In the morning hours in Spandau-Staaken, there are just a few people on the streets, all heading their separate ways. In this quiet Berlin suburb the white walls of the housing blocks have turned grey. Spandau-Staaken may be an unlikely place for a protest, but today is not a day like any other. Not for Tom anyway. Tom is a tenant who has been living here for more than 11 years. After a series of conflicts with his landlord, he is now forced to leave his home. His situation is no anomaly. Like many others, he has been struggling to pay his rent. Around 20 Berliners face eviction every day as a result of dramatic rent hikes on Berlin’s housing market. Especially for those people dependent on social benefit payments, it is becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with the rising cost of living in the inner city. Now it seems that the dynamics of displacement have even reached the outskirts of the city.

At 8.30 am, the bailiffs arrive to evict Tom. However, the eviction is not going to go the way the authorities have planned. Slowly, people begin to gather in front of his house, no. 15.  A few neighbours join the younger and older activists, many of whom are organized in the “Bündnis Zwangsräumungen Verhindern” (Platform Against Evictions). Protest chants disrupt what was a quiet morning and someone puts up a banner. Around 25 people start to block the entrance to the building to keep the authorities out. This is a tactic inspired by the Spanish protests against evictions. Yet in Berlin, it is not the middle classes, but mostly the unemployed and other marginalized populations who face eviction. It is mostly the last act that follows rent increases, private indebtedness

At 9 am, the police arrive to clear the blockade. There is chaos and turmoil and a lot of screaming and shouting as people are pulled and pushed around and fall to the floor. After 15 minutes, the police successfully break up the blockade. Tom appears in the doorway behind a row of police officers. ‘It’s over. I’m homeless now,’ he announces bitterly. Despite the rapid end to the blockade, discussions continue between activists, neighbours and even police officers who try to defend themselves against the angry accusations levelled at them. It takes an hour for things to calm down again. The group disperses and Pillnitzer Weg is quiet again.

11:30 am // Spandau to Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg / Schönhauser Allee

The train from Spandau to Prenzlauer Berg is late again, even though the price of the ticket is much higher then it was just some time ago. In recent years, public transport has been systematically under-financed due to the privatization policies of the municipality. These policies have resulted in rising travel costs and have even led to logistical and technical faults such as trains being temporary halted en route. To counter the privatization of public transport and other public goods such as drinking water and energy, a coalition of activists has joined forces to demand their communal ownership (‘Rekommunalisierung’). Several referenda have shown wide spread support for their campaigns. Nonetheless, the political establishment remains reluctant to change its course.

Stepping off the train at Schönhauser Allee, you enter a prestigious and expensive neighbourhood: Prenzlauer Berg. At noon, many of the restaurants offering organic food are filled with well-dressed and stylish people. You sit down for a coffee in a café amidst a cacophony of languages. To the right, an English-speaking interior designer explains to his southern German client how to renovate an apartment. To the left, a couple discuss in Hebrew the cost of the apartments they just viewed and consider which German school to send their children to. A young waitress takes a break to finish her reading for university, perhaps returning to a more affordable neighbourhood after work.

Many people living in this area are migrants from richer parts of Germany, other places in Western Europe, North America or even countries such as Israel and Japan. Many rented apartments have been transformed into condos, even more have been sold to big real-estate funds. They see Berlin’s booming real-estate market as a safe haven for capital in times of financial crises, while interest rates for capital assets are low and real-estate markets in Southern Europe and North America have collapsed. Between 2007 and 2012, the cost of residential property in Berlin has increased by 9,9 per cent each year. Rising rents are supposed to repay the investments and realize profits. Due to deregulations in the tenancy law landlords have been able to make use of the increasing demand of housing in Berlin and especially of attractive districts like Prenzlauer Berg. Since 2007, rents have increased by 28 per cent for the city as a whole. In Prenzlauer Berg, they have been rising especially fast and many previous residents have moved away – as have the artists and squatters that once made the area popular. This has led to tensions between newcomers and long-time residents, sometimes culminating in xenophobic resentment. If you take a closer look, you still find traces of its East German past and subcultural history – a small kiosk run by a Vietnamese family, a lonesome traditional proletarian bar or a building draped with anti-capitalist banners inhabited by a queer housing collective.