It's no secret that the police force in general is stretched to their limits, with overtime work skyrocketing since the pandemic. And the current conservative First Minister, Markus Söder, is doing nothing to ease their burden. Trying to come across as Germany’s toughest law and order politician he has introduced various rules and regulations in Bavaria to counteract the new law legalising Cannabis use in Germany. From the start the law’s supporters had stressed that the biggest advantage of the new law would be its positive impact on the police and the courts, that the legalisation of Cannabis would reduce their workload considerably and allow them to focus on more pressing problems. No such luck in Bavaria, it seems. The new rules and regulations are in part so complicated they will be almost impossible to enforce, and having to enforce them will mean more work for the Bavarian police not less. Maybe conservative voters should realize that an overambitious politician who ignores what’s feasible is no help to their cause. These new rules and regulations that don’t apply anywhere outside Bavaria are mostly bad news for an already overstretched police force that needs real support, like enough uniforms and more manpower to deal with growing problems like cybercrime.
The Bavarian police has taken the unusual step of making internal problems public by making a satirical video about the ongoing lack of uniform items. The problem as such, i.e. getting the various pieces of a uniform when needed, is not new. In fact, it seems to have started when the Bavarian police changed the old unbecoming brown and green uniforms to the more fashionable modern blue ones. The Bavarian police was the last of the German police forces to do so and had a transition period when both uniforms were still in use. Things didn’t go smoothly right from the start since the new uniforms often didn’t fit. Some quipped that it had to do with the fact that the uniforms were made in enemy territory, i.e. the north of Germany (Lower Saxony). The real reason, however, seems to have been that the Bavarian police opted for the Austrian model of police uniforms. Unfortunately, the Austrian cut didn’t fit the average Bavarian policeman so well and were often too tight in a delicate region of the male body. The more current complaint is not the tight fit, however, but the shortage of enough uniforms to go round. The police’s humorous way of making a serious problem public is as much to their credit as is their delicate and prudent handling of the huge recent demonstrations in Munich and elsewhere in Bavaria.
It's no secret that the police force in general is stretched to their limits, with overtime work skyrocketing since the pandemic. And the current conservative First Minister, Markus Söder, is doing nothing to ease their burden. Trying to come across as Germany’s toughest law and order politician he has introduced various rules and regulations in Bavaria to counteract the new law legalising Cannabis use in Germany. From the start the law’s supporters had stressed that the biggest advantage of the new law would be its positive impact on the police and the courts, that the legalisation of Cannabis would reduce their workload considerably and allow them to focus on more pressing problems. No such luck in Bavaria, it seems. The new rules and regulations are in part so complicated they will be almost impossible to enforce, and having to enforce them will mean more work for the Bavarian police not less. Maybe conservative voters should realize that an overambitious politician who ignores what’s feasible is no help to their cause. These new rules and regulations that don’t apply anywhere outside Bavaria are mostly bad news for an already overstretched police force that needs real support, like enough uniforms and more manpower to deal with growing problems like cybercrime.
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While the recent demonstrations against the far right have drawn much bigger crowds than anyone expected, they don’t hide the fact that German politics have changed. Far right politicians and their ideas have been gaining popularity and support.
Satirical programmes have repeatedly shown the increasing confidence of far-right politicians as well the quandary that Germany now finds herself in. Should the German Supreme Court ban the right-wing AfD party? Or is it too late for this already? Is our democracy able to weather the challenges from its extreme fringes? Watching satirical sketches on this topic can be a delight as well as upsetting. This sketch by the team from Die Anstalt illustrates the apparent weakness of the German system. Democracy (played by Max Uthoff) wants to avoid conflict at any cost, is forever dithering, and ultimately powerless in face of the increasingly powerful and influential AfD politician Maximilian Krah (Claus von Wagner). Krah is a real person and a prominent AfD politician who has been an member of the EU parliament since 2019. Claus von Wagner as Krah is smug and cocky, and utterly convinced he’s every woman’s wet dream. Von Wagner’s performance is superb as well as unsettling, because -- although Krah is clearly insufferable -- he enjoys considerable success and support. In times like these, programmes like Die Anstalt inform at least as much as they entertain. The above-mentioned sketch was broadcast in October 2023. Towards the end of the sketch, Claus von Wanger as Maximilan Krah already mentions the AfD’s plans for “remigration”. The news about the secret meeting in Potsdam where members of the AfD and others discussed “remigration” plans in earnest, only broke in January this year. Further proof that the team of Die Anstalt not only draw attention to important subjects, but also that they do so earlier than others. The many demonstrations in cities and towns all over Germany recently were a direct result of the scandal surrounding the secret meeting in Potsdam. The Anstalt (“the institution” or “psychiatric clinic”) is produced in Munich and broadcast nationwide. The programme started out as Neues aus der Anstalt in 2007 and quickly became quite successful with more than 3,5 million people watching. The slight name change occurred in 2014 when Max Uthoff and Claus von Wagner took over as hosts of the show. They (and their co-writer Dietrich Krauß) are now in their tenth year and have become known for their meticulous research, hard hitting, witty dialogues and wonderful parodies. Unlike other satirists, they generally don’t appear as themselves to comment or poke fun at something or somebody. Instead, they slip into various roles and use dialogue and sketches to make a point. In contrast to most other political cabaret programmes, they manage to attract many younger viewers. Since satirical programmes often reach large audiences, they are not necessarily popular with politicians in power. The First Minister of Bavaria, Markus Söder, recently stated publicly that state-owned TV stations ought to save money, and one possibility would be to cut satirical programmes. Apparently, some in his party even think one of the state channels, the ZDF, should be scrapped altogether. (The ZDF broadcasts various satirical programmes, including the Anstalt and the heute-show.) I hate sitting on a donkey in my state. My husband means well, but riding a donkey with a big belly is worse than walking. I get off. Joseph is grey with fatigue and worry. I run my hand over his cheek. His face brightens briefly.
“We’ll find a place,” he assures me. I nod, although I’m beginning to lose faith. The place is crawling with people. It’s loud, people are impatient and shove against one another. More than once we’ve seen men fighting, either screaming at each other or in a fistfight. Now that it’s getting dark, some light a fire on the side of the street to keep warm. Unlike us, they have already given up trying to find a place to stay. I walk as fast as I can, because an old man told us about an inn at the end of the street that might still have a bed. When we get there the owner is angry he was sent more people and just waves us off. At that moment I have my first contraction and cry out in pain. When the pain ebbs off, I burst into tears. The owner’s wife has appeared, after having heard me scream, and tells her husband to offer us their barn at the back. “She can’t go any further. Her child is coming,” she says, staring down her husband. He looks like he wished he had never met us and grudgingly takes us past the house to the barn. I’m still crying, although this time, because I’m so grateful that I can finally lie down. The owner’s wife brings some hot water and stays with me during the birth. Leah has given birth eight times and knows what to do. I had no idea I could feel such pain. She tells me screaming is good and that I shouldn’t try to suppress the urge. “It’ll be over quicker if you let yourself go,” Leah tells me. Every time I holler the cows turn round but look unimpressed. The sheep are frightened and huddle in a corner. When the baby finally arrives, I’m so exhausted I feel nothing when Leah puts the little bundle into my arms. I’m so grateful to this woman who I’ve known for less than five hours. She has already washed him. It’s a little boy. I stroke the tuft of black hair on his head. He is so small, his hands and feet tiny. “I want to call him Jesus, like my favourite uncle,” I say to Joseph. He nods. He probably would have gone along with any name. Joseph is a good husband, I think, and then nod off. When I wake up again, the baby is sleeping peacefully in an old crib beside me. Leah has gone but to my surprise we have quite a few visitors in the barn. We don’t know anyone here, so I have no idea why they have come. There are three elegant looking men who have brought presents for the baby. And quite a few shepherds have come too. They all have come to see the baby, to see Jesus. It seems very strange until I remember having this dream of an angel telling me that my son was the new Messiah. I forgot about it. One dreams so much incredible stuff. I would have never thought this time it would be different. Joseph looks just as bewildered as I am, but he is his usually chatty self and pretends as well as he can that he fully expected them to come and sing the praises of his newborn son. Sometimes I marvel at him. He is so good-natured and accepting. Jesus wakes and wants to be fed. I carefully take him from the crib and start feeding him. Jesus quickly sucks so hard it hurts and I’m tearing up again. Our visitors look away and begin to leave one by one. I’m glad. Currently 32 380 people are homeless in Bavaria. I hate sitting on a donkey in my state. My husband means well, but riding a donkey with a big belly is worse than walking. I get off. Joseph is grey with fatigue and worry. I run my hand over his cheek. His face brightens briefly.
“We’ll find a place,” he assures me. I nod, although I’m beginning to lose faith. The place is crawling with people. It’s loud, people are impatient and shove against one another. More than once we’ve seen men fighting, either screaming at each other or in a fistfight. Now that it’s getting dark, some light a fire on the side of the street to keep warm. Unlike us, they have already given up trying to find a place to stay. I walk as fast as I can, because an old man told us about an inn at the end of the street that might still have bed. When we get there the owner is angry he was sent more people and just waves us off. At that moment I have my first contraction and cry out in pain. When the pain ebbs off, I burst into tears. The owner’s wife has appeared, after having heard me scream, and tells her husband to offer us their barn at the back. “She can’t go any further. Her child is coming,” she says, staring down her husband. He looks like he wished he had never met us and grudgingly takes us past the house to the barn. I’m still crying, although this time, because I’m so grateful that I can finally lie down. The owner’s wife brings some hot water and stays with me during the birth. Leah has given birth eight times and knows what to do. I had no idea I could feel such pain. She tells me screaming is good and that I shouldn’t try to suppress the urge. “It’ll be over quicker if you let yourself go,” Leah tells me. Every time I holler the cows turn round but look unimpressed. The sheep are frightened and huddle in a corner. When the baby finally arrives, I’m so exhausted I feel nothing when Leah puts the little bundle into my arms. I’m so grateful to this woman who I’ve known for less than five hours. She has already washed him. It’s a little boy. I stroke the tuft of black hair on his head. He is so small, his hands and feet tiny. “I want to call him Jesus, like my favourite uncle,” I say to Joseph. He nods. He probably would have gone along with any name. Joseph is a good husband, I think, and then nod off. When I wake up again, the baby is sleeping peacefully in an old crib beside me. Leah has gone but to my surprise we have quite a few visitors in the barn. We don’t know anyone here, so I have no idea why they have come. There are three elegant looking men who have brought presents for the baby. And quite a few shepherds have come too. They all have come to see the baby, to see Jesus. It seems very strange until I remember having this dream of an angel telling me that my son was the new Messiah. I forgot about it. One dreams so much incredible stuff. I would have never thought this time it would be different. Joseph looks just as bewildered as I am, but he is his usually chatty self and pretends as well as he can that he fully expected them to come and sing the praises of his newborn son. Sometimes I marvel at him. He is so good-natured and accepting. Jesus wakes and wants to be fed. I carefully take him from the crib and start feeding him. Jesus quickly sucks so hard it hurts and I’m tearing up again. Our visitors look away and begin to leave one by one. I’m glad. Just before the election various groups organised a demonstration “Bayern gegen Rechts” (Bavaria against right wing extremism) in the centre of Munich, because the polls had indicated a sharp rise in potential votes for the AfD party. About 35 000 people came to the demonstration. It was a friendly and relaxed crowd, but for the first time I felt I was in the middle of a city bubble with lots of like-minded people. I had just returned from a week of hiking in the countryside and could see for myself that life in a prosperous bustling city like Munich is a completely different ballgame from life in the often increasingly marginalised countryside.
The results of the election are worrying to say the least. Söder’s strategy may have achieved its aim of maintaining the overall lead for his party, but the collateral damage is considerable. The AfD’s favourite topic of migration completely dominated this election, right wing statements are no longer unacceptable but help to gain support, and politicians of other parties as well as journalists seem increasingly helpless. Information on the AfD’s policies and aims doesn’t seem to deter voters, even though most would actually be harmed by these policies. Talking politics is so little fun now that I want to end this blog on a different, musical, note. “Se bastasse una canzone” (If a song was enough) is a hugely popular song by Eros Ramazzotti. Here’s a recent cover by the Schlenkerer. Despite appearances they aren’t just four guys jamming in a pub. You can hear they are professionals. I usually never listen to brass music but their version is too beautiful to miss. |
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