Another Brick In The Old Wall

Thirty-five years ago, on the evening of 9 November 1989, the Berlin Wall, which had divided Berlin—and, by extension, East Germany (GDR) and West Germany (FRG)—for nearly 30 years during the Cold War, fell. This was one of the most symbolic events of the late 20th century, representing, as many Europeans dreamed at the time, the end of the confrontation between the Western world and the Soviet Union.

The Berlin Wall was built in August 1961 after tensions intensified between the two military-political blocs: NATO and the Warsaw Pact, led by the USSR. Prior to its construction, hundreds of thousands of people crossed the city’s dividing border daily. The Wall's construction forced the reorganisation of public transport systems, splitting Berlin’s metro and tram networks into two separate systems.

The total length of the Berlin Wall complex was 156.4 km. In reality, the term "Wall" was somewhat misleading, as there were actually two walls: the outer one facing West Germany and an inner one within GDR territory. Between these two walls was a “death strip” — a mined forbidden zone that was impassable. The wall itself had different names on either side: in the GDR, it was called the "Anti-Fascist Protection Rampart," while in the FRG, it was initially labelled as the "Shame Wall," a term popularised by Willy Brandt until the late 1960s.

Throughout the Wall’s existence, East Germans attempted numerous escapes from the “socialist camp”: 29 people reached West Berlin through a 145-metre tunnel they dug themselves; others managed to flee by using ropes strung between windows on opposite sides of the Wall, and some even flew over it in hang gliders or hot air balloons, or broke through with bulldozers. From August 1961 to November 1989, there were 5,075 successful escapes to West Germany, including 574 cases of military desertion. Additionally, a practice of "buying out" East German citizens was established: lawyer Wolfgang Vogel facilitated the transfer of tens of thousands of East Germans and political prisoners to West Germany for payment, costing West Germany 3.5 billion Deutsche Marks (2.7 billion USD).

Notably, the fall of the Berlin Wall, which held profound symbolic value, was essentially the result of inevitable external pressures. The Eastern Bloc, held in place by the Soviet Union, was rapidly slipping from the hands of the ageing Soviet leadership. Internal political and economic forces were also accelerating, rendering control impossible, neither through Gorbachev’s policies of “Perestroika” and “Glasnost” nor Stalinist terror tactics.

The long-anticipated disintegration of the Warsaw Pact began not with the fall of the Berlin Wall but with the dismantling of the Hungarian border barrier. In May 1989, Hungary, a Warsaw Pact ally of East Germany, dismantled its border fortifications with Austria, soon followed by Czechoslovakia. While East Germany’s leadership had no intention of following Hungary’s example, the political isolation of Eastern Europe was effectively broken. Thousands of East Germans began fleeing westward through Hungary, and when Hungary announced a full opening of its borders in September of that year, the purpose and significance of the Berlin Wall evaporated. In just three days after Hungary opened its borders, 15,000 East Germans fled. Strikes and demonstrations erupted, demanding the restoration of civil rights and freedoms. The ruling Socialist Unity Party of Germany stepped down, and soon after, the Wall fell.

In July 1990, on neutral territory dividing East and West Berlin, Pink Floyd held one of their most memorable concerts, performing their legendary rock opera The Wall to an unprecedented audience of 200,000. Many believed the world had changed forever, that the threat of a new, third world war had been consigned to the past, and that humanity, chastened by the mistakes of the 20th century, would value peace and prosperity, and tyrannies would no longer have any influence over global politics.

For a time, it seemed this was the case. Shortly after the fall of the Berlin Wall, the "Evil Empire" that had spawned it collapsed as well. The former Soviet republics pursued their own paths, while the power that had once bound them—Russia—eagerly distanced itself from its communist past and sought favour with the West, showcasing its cultural exports, oil dollars from its new oligarchs, cheap energy exports, and a KGB-president “with a human face.” However, it soon became apparent that these were just a series of masks hiding a more familiar brand of chauvinism. Russia had no intention of abandoning its imperial ambitions or territorial claims. Security forces steeped in Zbigniew Brzezinski’s The Grand Chessboard were eager to play a leading role in global geopolitics, while the Russian populace, emboldened and marginalised by state propaganda and lowbrow mass culture, seemed content to rob and oppress their “brotherly neighbours.”

In this context, proposals surfacing in Western media (including the Washington Post and The New York Times) in 2023, suggesting a "German model" for resolving the fate of Ukraine, appear unconvincing and impractical. The idea of constructing a new wall in eastern Ukraine, dividing Russian-occupied territories from the rest of Ukraine under central government control, and expediting Ukraine’s NATO accession, as was done with West Germany, is feasible only within the geopolitical realities of the 20th century Cold War, when the USSR was seen as the main existential threat to world order by the U.S. and its allies.

Today, despite Russia being the world’s leading terrorist state, the West regards it only as an "unfriendly state," while the primary threat to Western democracy is officially deemed to be China, making the confrontation with it the top priority. In this new geopolitical context, the West sees Russia as a balancing force between Washington and Beijing, still harbouring the illusion of wooing Russia to its side or at least preventing a Russia-China alliance. A free and prosperous Ukraine, a member of NATO and the EU, separated by a new Ukrainian wall in the east from terrorist Russian enclaves like the DNR and LNR, does not fit into this picture, as its very existence as a "showcase of Western democracy" on the eastern border destabilises Putin's regime. Expecting today’s fascist Russia to be content with an “eastern Berlin” comprising Donetsk and Luhansk regions, as the USSR once was, is to misunderstand the motivations driving Putin and his indoctrinated compatriots in their war against Ukraine. The existence of an independent Ukraine, in any territorial form, represents an existential threat to Putinist chauvinism and xenophobia, which neither Russia’s current leadership nor any potential successors will ever accept.

Any attempts to freeze the Russian-Ukrainian war along the current line of contact, any peace agreements or territorial settlements signed with Russia, will, as ever, not be worth the paper they are written on. Russia has no intention of stopping—it wants the entirety of Ukraine, destroyed or capitulated, it makes no difference.

The only viable new wall separating democracies from dictatorships must be a Great Wall along Russia's western borders, like the icy Wall in Game of Thrones, dividing the realm of the living from the snowy wastes inhabited by White Walkers.