Amid the iconic Olympic Stadium in Berlin, a magnet for England football enthusiasts, the remnants of a Germany that continues to intrigue many are still vivid and revealing: the reign of Hitler’s propaganda-driven Olympics in 1936, oppressive statues and echoes of a bygone dictatorial architectural era. The legacy bequeathed by this extinct country, one characterised by ruthless militarism, sparked anxiety amongst many Germans 25 years ago about a potential revival.
A quarter of a century ago, in the summer of 1999, the national administration shipped its final crates from Bonn to the newly reinstated capital, marking the birth of the so-called Berliner Republik. The emergence of the remodelled Reichstag and vast modernist chancellery piqued curiosity a decade following the Berlin Wall’s downfall and German reunification. Yet, some mourned leaving the unassuming Bonn, perceived as a symbol of a subtler Germany. The return to Berlin, rumour had it, could stir up dormant militaristic megalomania.
In a passionate parliamentary debate in April 1994, which lasted 12 hours, the decision was made by a slim margin of 18 votes, led by the late Wolfgang Schäuble. After orchestrating the unification accord, he asserted the relocation to Berlin was symbolic of “our prospective united Germany, which has yet to discover its internal harmony.”
“Can we claim genuine unity without Berlin?” he questioned. “I think not.”
So, what’s happening 25 years into the Berliner Republik’s establishment? A lot has transpired positively, but the locals have mixed feelings, mirroring the sentiments of visiting football fans.
The most accurate analysis was given by a young tech wizard on his way back to Leipzig after a yielding day at a Berlin trade show. Both his trains were delayed, and no leads were procured as none of the managers he encountered were authorized to make purchasing judgements.
“This nation resembles a corporation managed by soon-to-be retiring senior executives,” he confided in me. “They choose to overlook all the necessary reform here for the sake of a peaceful existence till their retirement.”
If Euro 2024 has impacted Germany in any way, it’s to serve as a stark insight into the worst tendencies – complacency and stagnation – of the Berliner Republik.
Die Zeit weekly expressed concern that the European championship highlighted the many areas in which Germany is falling behind, including poor mobile phone coverage, card payment systems, and train services. Deutsche Bahn’s (DB) data from June shows that only half of German trains are on time currently.
The Merkel government had earlier levied a €200 million yearly dividend on DB to maintain balanced budgets, often referred to as the “black zero”. This financial decision led to an increasingly aging and unreliable rail network as DB avoided costs for replacing old trains and repairing damaged tracks and signal systems.
Germany’s approach to maintaining balanced public finances is under scrutiny as this has come with repercussions, critics have noted. A 2018-2022 study by the International Monetary Fund ranked Germany second-last in terms of public investment among 14 leading economies. Notably, Germany was the only G7 nation whose economy contracted by 0.2 per cent last year, and experts predict negligible growth by 2024. Additionally, Germany’s position in the global competitiveness index has dropped from 15th to 24th place since 2022.
Olaf Scholz, who as finance minister relied on a debt-financed stimulus during the pandemic, adopts a more prudent approach as chancellor, despite growing concerns over the country’s dilapidated infrastructure. He stands firm on Merkel’s “debt brake”, a policy which restricts annual borrowing to 0.35 per cent of the nation’s GDP. This approach, designed to promote responsible fiscal politics, is becoming increasingly contentious, with 56 per cent in favour and 40 per cent advocating for more leeway.
With numerous global challenges such as conflict in Europe and climate change, there are louder voices urging Germany to reassess its economic policy. Süddeutsche Zeitung recently characterized the debt limit as an unnecessarily rigid German fetish, warning that certain principles can teeter on stubbornness.
The newspaper quipped with a sardonic undertone, that if the global environment doesn’t accommodate the “debt brake”, then it’s the world that ought to adapt, not the other way around. Scholz has failed to win over the public’s affection like his administration, whose promises of forthcoming improvements are seen as further evidence of his self-persuasive style of leadership. The coalition’s grand scheme of small reforms unveiled a week ago has yet to create a buzz.
Recalling 2006 tells a different tale. After enduring years of hardship, the mighty impact of social and economic reforms had just started to take effect. The renewed energy in Germany captivated the world’s football followers, many of whom had never set foot on German soil. They were taken by the surprisingly pleasant weather, the laid-back hosts, and the precisely timed railway system.
The shiny new central railway station in Berlin quickly became a beacon of admiration. However, in retrospect, it came to symbolize how the core consistency associated with old Germany was being overtaken by an inconsistent state associated with the new Berliner Republik.
To complete the station for the 2006 World Cup, construction teams in Berlin cast aside 130m of the station’s curved glass top. Once stored away, then subtly disposed of, this came to epitomize the Berliner Republik’s original sin – not marked by a shift in militarism, but towards pragmatic mediocrity.
Berlin stands out in both positive and negative aspects as Germany’s least German city. Living there means permanently getting used to a provisional state: lengthy use of temporary traffic lights and construction sites where no visible progression occurs.
What’s fascinating, though, is how the capital’s costly taste for professional-grade amateurism, evident over many years, has progressively seeped into the national psyche over the past 25 years. The narrative of German problem-solving ingenuity has shifted to seeking justification for unresolved issues, broken solutions, and holding others accountable.
It’s worth emphasising that the phrase “German Efficiency” doesn’t quite find its footing in the current Berliner Republik. The realization hits you when you’re the fourteenth person in a grocery line, loudly demanding a second checkout to be functional. This sense of helpless impatience is a close reflection of the prevailing mood here.
There’s a sense of stagnancy in today’s Germany – a political, economic, and social standstill that characterises a lightless corridor between the post-unification era and an uncertain future.
The country has faced substantial challenges in recent years, pushing the resilience of its pragmatism to the edge and compelling it to abandon past sureties, especially on exports and energy fronts.
Scholz’s February 2022 watershed speech, delivered shortly after Russia’s Ukraine invasion, scrutinised numerous existing guaranteed notions. Moving away from long-held careful hesitations, he pledged Germany’s full commitment to ensuring its freedom, democracy, and prosperity.
Since then, Germany has navigated past post-war no-go zones with astonishing agility by bolstering its military and becoming Ukraine’s third-largest arms-supported.
However, the clarity of Germany’s stance on the Russian-Ukraine conflict contrasts starkly with its perplexing response to post-October 7th Israel.
Germany’s harrowing Holocaust past usually warrants political affirmations of support towards Israel. However, ask the same politicians discretionally, and their expressions reveal deep private reservations about Israel’s response in Gaza.
Germany, particularly Berlin, witnessed a public switch in stance last month. Annalena Baerbock, the foreign minister, expressed to an Israeli audience that “our might lies in respecting human rights and international law.” Critiquing Israel’s reaction in Gaza, she added that such outrage “does not assist Israel in achieving its security objectives but only furthers Hamas’s manipulative intentions to incite further conflicts.”
These dramatic changes, though, are no longer the norm but anomalies in this era of uncertainty. Despite genuine issues – in the sectors of health, housing, and transport – Germany’s systems essentially continue functioning, and what isn’t working can be rectified.
Reaffirming the notion, national football manager Julian Nagelsmann, following the favourable publicity from the 2006 World Cup, declared that it wasn’t necessary to believe all the discouraging press about Germany in the wake of Euro 2024.
After facing defeat at the hands of Spain, his team was ousted. Yet, he rallied the nation through an impassioned speech in which he encouraged individuals to find inspiration from his youthful, multicultural team and rally together. He argued that Germany shined brightest when people supported one another and promoted inclusivity.
Nagelsmann cautioned people and stressed the importance of recognising the inherent benefits that lie within the nation’s diversity and practical approach – particularly in light of the rising political extremism surfacing in the eastern parts of Germany.
He reasoned that while it’s easy to identify problems – and indeed acknowledging that there are problems within the country – it is also beneficial to focus on finding solutions. He critiqued those who are constantly grumbling but not taking any personal responsibility, stating that such behaviour was not constructive.
Reflecting on the past, a local satirist had once, a century ago, quipped that Berlin, Germany’s vibrant inter-war capital, was destined for downfall, more concentrated on evolving than on existing. Now, as the Berliner Republik turns 25, the nation risks falling into the opposing trap: a nation too satisfied with their current state and hesitant of change.