Bannmeile

With great interest, I follow the hefty altercation in the State of Wisconsin about budget cuts that have resulted in a showdown between the governor and state employees. The day before yesterday, even Freiburg's local newspaper Badische Zeitung published an article about the social unrest in Madison.

Without judging the situation and refraining from comments about the Wisconsin affair, two side issues have occupied my thoughts. There are subtle differences in understanding democracy in the States and in Germany. 

I saw masses of protesters holding up panels with various slogans inside Madison's Capitol Building. It must have been physically challenging for senators to reach their chamber, not to mention the psychological effect such protesters certainly have on legislators.

That protesting crowds invade the building of a state parliament or the Bundestag in Berlin is unthinkable in Germany. While parliaments are in session, protesters are not allowed within a defined perimeter around the building such that deputies may exercise their debates and votes undisturbed. 

The map taken from the German Wikipedia shows the perimeter around the Reichstag building in Berlin called Bannmeile. It is not called a kilometer but a mile based on the measure for distances used in the various German territories before Germany's unification in 1871. 

The Second Reich adopted the (French) metric system so that everyone should use the same measure for distances and weight and introduced a common currency, the Reichsmark. The Bannmeile around the Reichstag is just a few hundred meters wide, not even a mile. Inside the perimeter, you find buildings where committee meeting rooms are also located. The Bannmeile is valid only during scheduled sessions of the Bundestag.

In Germany, protests are frequent and considered a serious business. In principle, authorities must be informed before and authorize the protest. Nevertheless, you find authorized and unauthorized protesters everywhere. Sometimes I think some participants are professionals traveling from protest to protest all over Germany. Official protests even are protected by the police against disturbing anti-protesters. 

There is a continuous protest in Freiburg each first Monday of the month against Hartz IV, a bundle of social laws that the Schröder government had passed way back in history. It is heart-warming to watch the lonely policeman walking along the marching half-dozen people until they settle on Freiburg's Rathausplatz, again only allowed when our city parliament is not in session.

The other minor difference between our democracies is that, apparently, in the States, deputies can be forced to be present for voting. In Germany, deputies simply walk out of their respective parliaments unhampered to the point that the quorum is no longer reached. In the States, Wisconsin senators unwilling to vote on the budget crossed the State boundary to be safe against the intervention by whom? Does the governor (?) call in the State troopers (?) to take senators having left the chamber back to their workplace, hand-cuffed? That is what I would call a forced democracy. I would like to learn more about these procedures when I am in Madison next week.

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A Monument for Apo

When reading the other day in my favorite newspaper the headline: A monument for "Apo," I was somewhat disturbed. Apo, this is what my grandchildren call me, not Opa, being the standard form for grandpa in German. When my oldest grandson started to speak, he used Apo instead of Opa, so the younger grandchildren adopted Apo as well. Elisabeth is called in an even kinder way Ami (French for a friend) instead of Omi or Oma. Our odd names help to distinguish us from the other grandparents.

What about the monument? Reading the article, it turned out that people from a community outside Freiburg had erected a statue for their defunct pharmacist (in German Apotheker) called Apo, who had rendered outstanding services to local clubs and societies.

Just to tell you, I am still alive!

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Baden's Blessed Bernhard

Beautiful statue of Bernhard,
the Christian warrior.

Today in the Sunday Newspaper, I read an article about the blessed Bernhard of Baden and how all attempts to make him a saint have failed so far. Having studied regional history for nearly a decade, I was shocked that I had not read about him earlier.

Margrave Bernhard lived from 1428 until 1458, when he died from the plague in Moncalieri, Italy. Little is known about Bernhard, and is this scanty information worthy of a saint? Like all rulers of earlier and later times, he tried to find glory in war activities. So, in 1453, Bernhard led a group of mercenaries to Italy to conquer Naples for his uncle René of Anjou.

But mind you, there are just and unjust wars depending on which side you are looking at. What makes Bernhard worthy in the eyes of the Church is his call for a crusade against the Turks, who had taken Constantinople in 1453. They called the city Istanbul, which, according to a song from the 70s, is nobody's business other than the Turks. 

What helps in Bernhard's canonization process is that this crusade, with all its war atrocities, never took place such that the Battle of Varna in 1444 is considered the last crusade.

Now, Freiburg's archbishop Robert Zollitsch is making another attempt to convince the Congregation for the Causes of Saints of Bernhard's holiness. 

I regard this with envy. Who is looking into Blessed Manfred's cause?

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Manfred

The other day I visited the Hohenstaufen Exhibition at Mannheim. Time was too short to see all the exciting exhibits, but one name, my own, fascinated me.

King Manfred's coat of arms

Manfred, King of Sicily and son of Emperor Frederick II. What a consolation! Although he never became German Emperor, I finally found a decent man carrying my name. What else do we have?

I don't have a Saint, just the Blessed Manfred of Rive commemorated on January 28.

Then there is the famous physicist Manfred von Ardenne who changed his socks from brown to red and still managed to lead a luxurious and happy life.

Manfred, the Symphony in B minor, Op. 58, composed by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, treats Manfred's incest with his step-sister, which is irrelevant since I do not have a sister.

Remains Manfred von Richthofen, the Prussian junker, racist, arrogant, flying an airplane in the First World War painted in red, daredevil par excellence. This guy, at least, was so prominent that he carried several nicknames: The Red Baron, The Red Battle Flyer, Red Devil, Le Diable Rouge, Le petit Rouge, and the Red Knight. As the title of his memoirs of 1917, von Richthofen used the name The Red Fighter Pilot.

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Groundhog Day in Freiburg?

This morning on the title page of the Badische Zeitung, I read the word Murmeltiertag and wondered if, in addition to Halloween, we had imported Groundhog Day from the States.

Here in Freiburg, we have no zoo proper but a farm transformed into a vivarium where children and adults may observe domestic and some exotic animals in a natural environment. No groundhogs live there. So what can we do? The chief keeper was interviewed and answered that Freiburg’s groundhogs are water turtles. If they come out and stay for a week, then the frosty period is over. Presently, their pond is frozen; spring is still far away.

In Geneva, it is not an animal but the chestnut tree de la Treille that, with its first leaf, will announce: Spring is icumen in.

Let us agree: any sign will be good. We are all waiting for Spring!

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