Four years ago, in August 1998 I left home for Berlin to begin my training a time full of exciting new impressions. In September I qualified to vote for the first time in parliamentary elections. I, at least, had experienced what it was to live under a different government. My West German compatriots of the same age had no such luck.
I grew up in the former German Democratic Republic East Germany which encouraged a dislike of the West and especially Western rulers amongst its young pupils, making sure they duly imbibed, Proletarians of all countries, unite. So any suggestion that one day Mr Kohl would be my leader would have had me banned from higher education and brought my mum much more trouble than she already had with me!
I knew about Mr Kohl before 1989 from the news on East German TV but also on Western TV. Finally, after reunification, he was my Chancellor, too. I met him in my home town when he came and made a walk-about, to greet his sisters and brothers from the East.
The years went by, I got my A-levels and joined the many young East Germans who had decided to GO WEST (or at least, GO BERLIN because Berlin is the West, even in the middle of what was East Germany). I watched the parliamentary representatives of the old Rhine Republic make their way to the new capital. They looked pretty sceptical, if not scared of our joint future. Nevertheless, there in Berlin you could see the new Germany reunited and modern in the process of being born, and therefore why good old granddaddy Kohl was no longer remotely suitable.
Across Germany, the feeling was that we had had enough. We wanted to get rid of all the historic baggage that Chancellor Kohl carried with him whenever he told us (as he did frequently) that he was the man who reunited Germany. People simply drew the line at another generation of kids growing up with Papa, Mama, Auto, Kohl as the first words they spoke. So in September 1998, Kohl, who was always adamant that Berlin should not only become the capital but also the seat of government, was forced to concede that he would never be the Chancellor of a Germany governed from there.
In that summer of 1998, the majority of German citizens felt demob happy, as if a new era of our history had begun. The Social Democrats were in power and the government had a new home: the so-called Berlin Republic was born. But there were a lot of troubles during the first two years of the SPD government. Ministers came and went before I was able to learn their names. What with all the hire-and-fire at the Reichstag, I sometimes thought I was in Italy rather than Germany.
True, great issues were discussed and some cutting edge, modernising decisions were being taken. But by 2002 a pall of lethargy seemed to cover Germany. Next door to countries with booming economies, our economic growth was weak. Mass unemployment and an ageing population had placed a gathering burden on the social system. For the first time, my Government gave me official notice that the social system would slide into total collapse if something didnt happen soon. In this torpid state, I realised that the Bundesrat the second chamber in Germanys parliamentary system had gradually changed. It is made up of representatives from the Länder, or regions. After a series of defeats, the majority the SPD had once held fell to the right-wing parties who then blocked most Government policies.Every debate now degenerated into a pre-election spat.
At present I live in London and work for openDemocracy as an intern. When Germany went to the polls again this Sunday, it occurred to me on waking up that this might be the day that as far as I was concerned Germany went into irreversible decline. Abroad, I dont normally long to be among Germans. But today it was different. I remembered the way the embassies hosted huge parties on election night back home in Berlin. So I went to the German Embassy.
When I reached it, the building was closed up, with no sign of any election gathering. Next stop, the German YMCA: unfortunately at the other side of Hyde Park. Here, there was a full house. Shown into a room heaving with people, the very first thing I saw was Mr Stoiber saying that the CDU had won the election. Somebody told me to hurry along for the get-together at the Goethe Institute in Exhibition road.
At the Goethe Institute, the mood was different. A Greens placard in many languages inviting Germans of all countries to Unite.VOTE, welcomed me into a room full of Deutsche Welle TV screens where journalists with perfect American accents reported the latest results. By this time, the count had turned in favour of the Social Democrats. Having decided to get myself another glass of wine for every additional tenth per cent the SPD received, I was admiring the perfect English of Claudia Roth (head of the Greens) when she dashed off camera without warning as Joschka Fischer walked into a Green Party standing ovation. In any other situation this would have seemed quite hysterical. I suddenly wanted to dance on a table or jump in the air myself, and may have done so, if the thought of looking like another Stoiber hadnt given me pause for thought.
At first,I was a bit too frightened to ask people directly how they had voted. I decided it would be more polite to ask their name first, and then proceed to what I was actually interested in. After a while, I became comfortable with a first sentence beginning, I know, your vote is your affair no-elses, but... and sure enough, gradually I found myself amongst people with whom to celebrate our victory.
Together we practised collective constraint in the face of right-wing voters who invariably cited paying too high German taxes as the most important reason for voting for the Liberal Democrats or the Christian Democrats. Inevitably, their arguments gave way to questions about how old I was and when would I be paying taxes. They assured us that one day we would realise that it was only our greenness behind the ears which made us vote SPD: Some day... they started to promise...time to switch off.
Most provocative were two German guys who told us that they voted for the PDS (the ex Communists) to prevent the victory of the Social Democrats. That really made us laugh. One worked as an investment banker, the other as an energy dealer: both professional businessmen who apparently suffered from total stupidity in political matters. They realised that we were teasing them, and began to talk to us in very strong Bavarian accents. When we asked for their names, they called themselves Peter und Edmund. Of course: we might have known.
By half past eleven, British time, we were sure we had won. A lot of people left. I found myself thinking about everything that had been said and how cynical we had been. And then I realised that a result like this could paralyse our country even more because one half of the electorate thinks it has been cheated of victory and will always block anything they can which comes from the Government. If my favourite to win had lost the election, I would probably think the same way...
Outside, I was brought to a halt by a paralytic drunk lying on the pavement. He was surrounded by a crowd of people. Somebody had already called an ambulance. Everybody stood there and watched, waiting for someone else to take the lead. Everybody knew what had happened but did not know what to do, or did not want to know. Just another German casualty, maybe. I crossed my fingers and hoped that this was no symbolic emblem of our country now.
