"Open the gate!"

 

The fall of the Berlin Wall, Thirty Years On

In the summer of 1989, Francis Fukuyama predicted “the end of history”—the overall triumph of the principles of liberal democracy, advanced by the West, against the trappings of communism. While the end of all conflict was not an idea that anyone, even Fukuyama, believed in, the sheer force of the economic and ideological factors which overturned one half of the world’s most dangerous duo—the Soviet Union—was inspirational to the core. Supporting this tide of optimism were the events in the autumn of the very same year. At the heart of Europe, the Berlin Wall was pulled apart by the hands of East and West Germans alike, who chanted, “Tor auf!” or “Open the gate!” The coming months would bring an overwhelmingly peaceful revocation of Marxism-Leninism, and the opening of the Soviet bloc’s ‘gates’ to the rest of the world.

Exactly thirty years later, the dream of that November night in 1989 is slowly crumbling. The severance of local and regional ties—not to mention the abandonment of international agreements—has been a hallmark of the past few years. Each region of the world has a veritable selection-box of crises. In Europe, the Brexit predicament is underscored by the Syrian refugee crisis, and a resulting lack of compliance with the European Union’s policies across its member states. More localised problems span from separatist movements in Scotland and Catalonia to a new threat of division in an Ireland which has only recently achieved a tenuous peace. In the Americas, while Venezuelans starve under the political contest between two leaders, Donald Trump continually presses forward on the building of a border wall between the United States and Mexico. He rallies his supporters with identity politics of inclusion and exclusion, constructing an exaggerated ‘them’ threatening a country whose economy, in reality, relies heavily on immigrant labour to continue functioning. Tensions between India and Pakistan have just recently escalated to claim the lives of dozens of citizens in a conflict over the territory of Kashmir. The religious undertones of this conflict are echoed in other areas of the world, where Muslim extremists practice jihad and chant “Death to America.”

Of course, the world of 1989 was not perfect. Amid the optimism, there was always suffering—and there has been much progress since, especially for those of us in the West, who now enjoy a standard of living unrivalled by that of the late 1980s. But, in the words of the Guardian’s John Harris: whatever happened to the future? In the early years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, Europe saw incredible movements promising peace, unification, and a new, bold idealism. The Good Friday agreement provided a solution for decades of violent conflict in Ireland, while Europe as a whole managed to consolidate itself. It incorporated Eastern European countries into the European Union and established multilateral treaties such as the Schengen agreement, which all but abolished borders between select countries. Full economic integration looked like a real possibility with the creation of the Eurozone and the resulting common currency, the Euro. 

Outside of Europe, apartheid was abolished in South Africa and the Israelis and Palestinians attempted dialogue—both seemed unfathomable in years prior. The common belief was in the victory of liberalism and in hope for the future, spurred on by revolutions in technology and communications. The era was not without its crises and catastrophes—it would be wholly unjust to ignore the Rwandan genocide, the Balkan conflicts, the American-led involvement in the Middle East, and countless other sources of misery in order to paint an idyllic picture of the post-Cold War era. On the whole, however, Western hope seemed consummate. In recent years, this hope has begun to break down. Rafael Behr, another Guardian columnist, writes that “The west that won the cold war no longer exists.” What happened to it? 

Behr points to an artificial feeling of instability and insecurity among the richest countries on Earth—those of Western Europe and the United States. In fairness, this feeling has been fed by a series of crises—the attacks of September 11, 2001, the global financial collapse of 2008, and the recent terrorist violence in Paris and Manchester, to name a few. Our environment is predicted to radically change due to human-created climate change in the coming decades—a fact which some choose to label a hoax. Economically there is a widespread feeling of a market disproportionately dominated by China, and politically, the interference of Russian agents in the world’s loudest and proudest democracy is shocking to the core. These issues are just a start on the long list of Western grievances.

On an individual level, globalisation and modernisation have contributed to an erosion of traditional feelings of community. Many have lost faith in their political institutions, which allow the ultra-rich to become richer while basic needs like a living wage and proper, accessible healthcare services are neglected. In this situation, we retreat to an “orgy of reminiscence,” remembering our heavily-romanticised national pasts, clinging to them, and fashioning communities we feel can protect us from the real pain we have suffered over the past decades. We have defied logic, polls and predictions, causing shocking upsets in, for example, the 2016 presidential election, and the Brexit vote called by David Cameron in the same year. 

A profound pessimism about the future thus prevails in the West. While the issues that our countries face are very real, the insecurities that have taken them over are a product of a privileged past that became idealised and universalised. The West managed to fashion an age of idealism out of an event that was, at its heart, European. The fall of the Berlin Wall had global implications, yes, but non-Western countries all over the globe experienced the same hardships and threats both before and after the events of 1989, forcing them to remain realistic and grounded. Even in the present day, problems that originated in or even before the twentieth century continue to resonate in Korea, China, South Africa, Afghanistan, and countless others. 

The West is coming out of its “end of history” into a world which recognised no such high period. This ‘new normal’ is being addressed by fashioning barriers, and pitting some against others. Looking to history, this strategy has not worked or lasted—the isolationism of the interwar period, for example, was enough to drag the world into a second world war, after which world leaders realised the merits and necessity of cooperation and integration. Above all, in the modern age, this integration is not just a goal to strive for—it is a fact of life. The revolutions in communication and transportation technology that have taken place in the last few decades have allowed for a new level of economic integration across the world, and even a significant level of social and cultural integration. Borders and boundaries cannot stop the tide of modernity. The West must overcome its insecurity, set aside its prejudice, and enforce cooperation. This may not lead to an age of idealism like that which many believe characterised the years after 1989—in fact, it almost certainly will not do so. Nevertheless, the decision-makers of today must have the courage to open gates in a world that cannot tolerate walls. 

 
Hampton Toole