We have updated our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use for Eurasia Group and its affiliates, including GZERO Media, to clarify the types of data we collect, how we collect it, how we use data and with whom we share data. By using our website you consent to our Terms and Conditions and Privacy Policy, including the transfer of your personal data to the United States from your country of residence, and our use of cookies described in our Cookie Policy.
{{ subpage.title }}
Ukrainians in Berlin and Kyiv tell their stories
Hour after hour, day after day, trains from the East arrive at Berlin's main station, each carrying hundreds of refugees from the war in Ukraine.
Since Russia's invasion began three weeks ago, close to 3 million Ukrainians have fled, in the largest displacement of Europeans since the Balkan wars of the 1990s. And so far, more than 120,000 of them have made their way here, to Germany.
The refugees are overwhelmingly women and children, since all Ukrainian men between the ages of 18 and 60 are required to stay behind to fight the Russians.
So far, the German government and people have rolled out the red carpet. Loudspeakers at the station broadcast welcome messages in Ukrainian, while dozens of local volunteers have turned up to help comfort and orient the refugees as they arrive -- dazed, grateful, and apprehensive.
"Our main purpose is to let people know that they’re welcome here," said Matilda, 26, a German citizen volunteer who declined to give her last name. She and her colleagues guide the arrivals to essential services like bathrooms and food and rest areas, while handing out toys to the many children who have arrived on the trains as well.
One of the first things that the Ukrainian refugees must do upon arrival is get Covid shots. Even before the war, barely one in five Ukrainians was vaccinated, due to a combination of botched vaccine procurement by President Volodymyr Zelensky's government, and traditionally high vaccine hesitancy in the country more broadly.
To get the jabs, recent arrivals lined up at the Ukrainian embassy in Berlin, where some of them shared harrowing stories of escape from the war.
"We walked for 7 hours with a pregnant woman who was 5 months pregnant," one woman who preferred to remain anonymous told us, holding back tears. "After she stayed in Poland in a hospital she said “I can’t feel my child.” It’s crazy."
The refugees in Berlin are relieved to be safe, but they also worry about their relatives back home. "Our men are strong, our army is strong," said one woman, "but they need help. Please close the sky."
Meanwhile, speaking to us from a makeshift bomb shelter in the Kyiv metro, Ukrainian journalist Kristina Berdynskykh told us that while she had debated leaving too, she decided to stay to tell the story of Ukrainians' resistance to the Russian assault.
As the modern European city she once knew was transformed overnight into a depopulated warren of barricades, sandbags, and Czech hedgehogs, she says, "I felt how strongly Kyiv would fight for itself, and I want to be here so that as a journalist I can tell that story. I believe that Kyiv, and all of Ukraine, will win – and I want to be in Kyiv when that happens."
With Vladimir Putin's armies stepping up their attempts to besiege and conquer the Ukrainian capital, she had a warning. "If they enter the city," she said, "it would be a huge battle, a sea of blood, a sea of death. Kyiv won’t surrender, the people won’t flee, they will defend it until the end."
Three decades after reunification, how united is Germany?
Though celebrations will surely be more subdued this year, many Germans will still gather (virtually) on October 3 to celebrate thirty years since reunification.
After the fall of the Berlin Wall — and the subsequent collapse of the Soviet Union — Germany reunited in a process whereby the much wealthier West absorbed the East, with the aim of expanding individual freedoms and economic equality to all Germans.
But thirty years later, this project has — to a large extent — been difficult to pull off. The economic and quality of life gap is shrinking, but lingering inequality continues to impact both German society and politics.
Wealth gap. Though much progress has been made in expanding economic prosperity in the post-unification era, former West Germany generally remains wealthier than the former East. Research shows that Eastern states continue to lag behind on unemployment and productivity.
Indeed, a 2019 government report on the "status of German unity" (2018 report in English can be read here) confirms that wage earners in the East generally earn less, while their risk of falling into poverty is about 25 percent higher. (It's worth noting that excluding Berlin, 12.5 million people live in the former East, while more than 66 million Germans live in the former West.)
Lack of opportunity breeds resentment. Inequality and lack of opportunity have created a sentiment of disillusionment among many East Germans who feel less optimistic about their financial prospects and ability to thrive. A recent Pew poll found that 42 percent of East Germans say that their children will be better off financially than they themselves were, compared to 50 percent of West Germans who said the same.
Indeed, in recent years, many East Germans have expressed resentment at having not reaped the rewards of reunification, which, in turn, has given renewed emphasis to identity politics within that part of the country.
Far-right support surges in the East. The unequal state of play has led many East Germans to pin their hopes on far-right political parties — like the populist Alternative for Germany (AfD), the largest opposition party in the Bundestag, — that seek to exploit public disgruntlement over the economic challenges many have endured in recent years to expand their political cause.
And it's working. For years, the far right has been gaining steam in the former East. For example, in state elections held last year in Thuringia, the AfD won 23 percent of the vote, up 13 points from 2014. The far right's illiberal and anti-immigrant views also resonated with economically disadvantaged voters in places like Saxony and Lusatia, helping the AfD secure several victories across the former East.
Education: an equalizing force? While East Germans tend to be less optimistic than West Germans about the education system, analysis shows that schools in most eastern states outperform students at West German institutions in areas like math, biology, and chemistry.
Chancellor Angela Merkel, Germany's long-serving leader and a former scientist is herself a symbol of what has been achieved by reunification: Growing up in the former East — where her family had to dodge the Stasi (secret police) — Merkel rose through the ranks to become one of Germany's — and Europe's —most consequential leaders.
Looking ahead. Chancellor Merkel and her centrist coalition received a boost in the polls in recent months, buoyed by widespread approval of her government's handling of the coronavirus pandemic. But if a "second wave" comes in the winter, and unemployment rises, the AfD may get a new opening to exploit that discontent to exacerbate existing East-West divides.
Is Angela Merkel staging a comeback?
Six months ago, after 14 years in power, German Chancellor Angela Merkel's star appeared to be waning. Her coalition government was taking a hit in the polls, prompting some members of her once-loyal bloc to go rogue. Meanwhile, the European Union was as fragmented as ever, and concerns about Merkel's health sparked rumors that she could be forced to hand the reins over to a successor even before her long-planned move to step down next year.
Now, Merkel's competent handling of the COVID-19 crisis in Germany has burnished her image at home and abroad. What will this mean for her political legacy?
Pragmatist-in-chief: Merkel's long political track record suggests that Germany's success at managing the outbreak — it has recorded fewer COVID deaths per capita than the US states of Arizona, Florida, and South Carolina — is at least partly attributable to the chancellor's demeanour and leadership style. A trained scientist, Merkel has long been known for her cautious, analytic, and measured approach to problem solving.
While countries like France, Italy, and Spain were caught off guard as COVID-19 began sweeping Europe, Merkel's evidence-based thinking prompted her to quickly assemble an integrated coronavirus task force made up of the country's university medical faculties to help steer the federal response. And it worked. Germany rolled out one of the most efficient testing and tracing schemes in the world. It also allowed Merkel to ditch her "lame duck" image, with 82 percent of Germans now saying that she has done a good job weathering the COVID storm.
How will Merkel use this momentum? The chancellor's return from the political dead comes just as Germany takes over the European Union's rotating presidency for a six-month term. Merkel will now be charged with steering the bloc out of the worst global recession in decades. (The Euro area's economy is forecast to contract by more than 10 percent this year, according to the IMF.)
Merkel said recently that "extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary measures," abandoning her usually-cautious approach. Together with France's President Emmanuel Macron, she has called for a whopping 750 billion euro bailout fund for the bloc, the bulk of which would be borrowed from financial markets and given out as grants rather than loans. This is a remarkable about-face for the usually tight-fisted German government (other northern European countries, such as Austria and the Netherlands, are strongly opposed). But Merkel's sense of urgency about the peril facing the European Union seems to have overridden her natural fiscal caution. "For Europe to survive," Merkel said recently, "its economy needs to survive."
Indeed, given the size of Germany's economy — it's the biggest in the eurozone, accounting for more than a quarter of the bloc's economic output — and the fact that the German Federal Bank is the most powerful central bank in Europe, Berlin's cooperation is critical to any EU plan.
If Merkel can pull off this recovery effort, holding the EU project together economically despite its deepening political divisions, it would be a remarkable legacy for a leader whose management of past crises has mostly deepened rifts within the 27-member bloc.
Recall Berlin's handling of the European debt crisis in 2009, where Merkel insisted that highly indebted countries like Greece and Spain impose tough austerity measures. Despite eventually softening her position, Merkel's approach stoked resentment of Germany's political and economic clout. Similarly, Merkel's handling of Europe's refugee crisis in 2015, where she pushed for quotas that would force poorer countries to accept refugees, helped fuel the rise of right wing populists and Euroskeptics in the UK, Italy, Hungary, Poland, and Spain — and gave renewed emphasis to identity politics within Germany itself.
The road ahead: As pandemic-induced economic pain deepens in the months ahead, Merkel will surely have her job cut out for her. But now that she has her groove back, can her final act be to rescue Europe?