THE East German authorities called it Antifaschistischer Schutzwall, or "Anti-Fascist Protection Rampart." But we know it as the Berlin Wall, and this weekend we celebrate the 25th anniversary of its fall.
It will be a time of reflection for the regulars at the Mahogany Ridge, some of whom, no doubt, will have done a little falling of their own by the time tomorrow evening rolls around. But that is neither here nor there.
After the Second World War and before construction began, on August 13, 1961, some 3.5 million East Germans had strolled across the divided city into the western sector and, circumventing Eastern Bloc emigration restrictions, travelled on to West Germany and other countries.
The wall that would eventually encircle West Berlin, making it an isolated enclave deep inside the Eastern Bloc, did end the mass defections. But, in the ensuing years, about 5 000 more people tried to scale it in a bid for freedom. Such was the East Germans' resolve to protect citizens from the fascism on its other side that scores were killed as they attempted to escape. As an October 1973 directive to guards put it, "Do not hesitate to use your firearm, not even when the border is breached in the company of women and children, which is a tactic the traitors have often used."
In truth, though, the Berlin Wall did not fall on November 9, 1989, but was rather breached in several places by jubilant mobs on that day to allow easier access from one side of the city to the other. Almost immediately, thousands of Mauerspechte, or "wall woodpeckers", sledgehammered and chiseled away at the concrete barrier, not to knock it down, but - crass capitalists! - to collect souvenirs for sale. Its actual demolition began some months later, with the German reunification process underway, and was formally concluded in 1992.
And neither did the fall strictly coincide with the collapse of the Soviet empire and the end of the Cold War. Months earlier, political scientist Francis Fukuyama had declared that the great ideological ding-dong between East and West was over; liberal democracy had triumphed, history was done, hooray for us, everyone's a winner.
Again, this was not true for all the former Soviet republics. Tajikistan, Moldova, Ukraine, Kyrgyz Republic, Georgia, Bosnia and Serbia are today total failures. According to the economist Branko Milanovic, at their present rate of growth, it would take five or six decades - longer than they were under Communism - to return to the income levels they had in 1989, when Communism fell. Which was really not much anyway, probably just a few groats and a turnip or something.
The relative failures - with a growth rate around or less than 1 per cent per capita - are Macedonia, Croatia, Russia and Hungary. Czech republic, Slovenia, Turkmenistan, Lithuania and Romania are marginally better, with annual growth rates of between 1.7 and 1.9 per cent.
Uzbekistan, Latvia, Bulgaria, Slovakia, Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan, Estonia, Mongolia, Armenia, Belarus, Poland and Albania are however all success stories.
Milanovic has listed these countries in ascending order. That is, from worst-performing economy to best. Now, if South Africa was slotted in there, we would fall - by my calculations, and based on current growth rate figures - between Hungary and the Czech Republic.
In the 20 years of democracy, we averaged an annual growth rate of 3.15 per cent. There have been high highs (7.1 per cent in the fourth quarter of 2006) and low lows (-2.7 per cent in the second quarter of 2009). Presently our GDP for the second quarter of 2014 grew a single percentage point over the previous year. Slowing for the fourth quarter in a row, it is the lowest growth rate since the recession in 2009.
To put it in Ridge-speak, it is sadly getting very Tajikistan.
Which brings us back to the Berlin Wall and the only people in the world who apparently believe it still stands - the SA Communist Party.
Last month, they released a discussion document, "Going to the Root. A Radical Second Phase of the NDR - its context, content and our strategic tasks."
Snappy title. But then it was downhill all the way. Reading it actually hurt, as if your cranium was being fisted by jargon and dullthink. For almost 15 000 words it plodded along, with occasional bursts of UPPER CASE to somehow liven things up and goad the reluctant reader to its eventual conclusion.
Which was this: We need a protection rampart. One that is anti-fascist, anti-imperialist, anti-liberal, anti-colonial, anti-capital, anti-Western and anti-kleva. A Berlin Wall. But with a North Korean element for good measure.
This article first appeared in the Weekend Argus.
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