The Chancellor Who Cancelled Christmas

‘Twas the month before Christmas, and all through Berlin, 

Not a raver was stirring, there’s no clubs to get in,

Fishnet stockings were hung in the WG with care,

In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there,

But a fear keeps us up as we lay in our beds,

That COVID may strike our Xmas plans dead,

That Mutti may say, “None of ye can go,”

And that we might spend all our Weinachtens alone.

Greetings from Berlin, dear readers, as we near the end of our month long lockdown. But that’s the question, isn’t it? Is it really going to be only a month? 

Betting on COVID and any government’s reactions to it, is like the worst sports game in history. Personally I’m following the rules, and unfollowing news sites. That said, news seeps into my world anyway, like my unemployed DJ neighbor’s beats that oonf-oonf through the double glazing.

Because if what I’m hearing is true, Santa might be planning a fly-over on Deutschland. Even if the lockdown doesn’t extend over Xmas, it will at minimum reduce the amount of people and households allowed to gather come 25th December.

But don’t feel bad for us. Feel bad for Angela Merkel. The whole reason why we’re having a lockdown now, is of course about public safety. But really, it’s about the safety of Christmas. As the leader of this country it’s Angela’s call whether lockdown is extended into January. The weight of this decision rests solely on her padded, pastel colored shoulders. 

Which means that despite the incredible career that Angela has had as one the longest consecutively serving leaders of a democratic nation, who’s succeeded in an industry designed for the most psychotic of alpha males, who’s overcome sexist and cultural conceptions of her abilities in her own country, she will be remembered as one thing and one thing only. The Chancellor Who Cancelled Christmas.

Adding Christmas to the 2021 wishlist would be a huge disappointment for the population of any country. But in Germany, it could seriously lead to people storming the Reichstag.

If you’re a non-German you may well be thinking, well Karl, we love Christmas in our country too. My answer would be, no you don’t. Compared to the Germans, you like Christmas at best. At best.

Because Germans love Christmas, like Kanye loves Kanye. Which in my life, has not been my experience of the season at all.

If you dig straight down from Berlin and burrow through the earth’s core, you’ll come out in New Zealand. Turn right, hop over the Tasman Sea and you’re in Sydney.

And it’s in my hometown where every year as a child, Christmas would come around and I would think to myself, this is bullshit.

Every December the kid version of me would suspect that down in Australia we were getting cheated out of the good stuff. That the children in America and Europe were having a real Christmas. And we were having “Australian Christmas”, like some kind of cover band version of Yuletide.

On the TV back then, all you would see were Xmas specials shot in snowy climes in the northern hemisphere. Kids building snowmen and having snowball fights, huge families gathering round tables in bad sweaters to eat Turkeys, everyone cosy with mugs of hot chocolate and eggnog in front of the open fire.

Instead of making Xmas decorations out of things that I’d found in the forest, or foraging berries for a pie in my hand knitted jumper, I’d be standing outside a store watching the spray-on frosting melt down the windows in the middle of the Australian summer. Seeing Rudolph’s stenciled face morph into Jabba The Hutt filled me with such feelings of injustice that only an eight year old can muster.

It was still fun though. I like my family. And the presents, Christmas barbeques, Grandma’s pudding, and going to the beach straight after lunch were all kind of awesome. But you just had this nagging feeling that Christmas was better up there.

Anyway, over the years with the increasing commercialization of the season, it felt to me like the season was just an excuse for a sale. Somewhere along the way, I became officially over Christmas. That was until I made my first trip to Berlin for a freelance job in the mid 2000s.

I had never seen a Christmas Village in my life. So imagine my surprise, as I rode up the U-Bahn escalators at Potsdamer Platz to see this twinkling, wooden-hut wonderland covering the whole of the square. Crunching through the snow (remember snow Berliners?) I walked through the aisles of huts selling Christmas cookies, Raclette, spiced sweets, chocolates, advent gifts and all manner of goodies.

Eight year old me took the steering wheel and in bug-eyed wonder, ate my way through the market like Pac-Man before finally ending up on a Ferris Wheel, a hot Glühwein cupped between two hands.

But the thing that really struck me were the people. Everyone was having such a good time. German families all out together, genuinely enjoying what the whole Christmas thing is supposed to be about. And it was infectious. The Germans made me fall in love with Christmas.

All the people at the ad agency where I was working, who normally were too Berlin to care about anything, would talk my ear off about their favorite things to do over the season. With twinkling eyes, big smiles and no sense of shame they would go into Germanic detail about the feel-good moments they were all anticipating. 

Most of the stories were around family and food. But even when people from different parts of the country argued about the best recipes for this and that, and how the way their mother made it was better, it was a good natured ribbing. Not at all like when they talk about their local beers or soccer teams. That shit can get real ugly, real fast.

This job brought me back to Germany for five Christmases in a row. Over that time I came up with a theory about why people here are so fanatical about the season. This is just an Ausländer’s perspective looking in, but in a country that is obsessed with observing rules, hierarchies, and efficiencies while displaying minimal emotion, Christmas is the escape hatch, the rip-cord and the party all in one.

The only rule seems to be that the rest of the rules are on holidays. The country lets itself off its own cultural hook. Christmas is the green Ampelmann for Germans to let out the sentimental, care-free and sometimes goofy versions of themselves you rarely see during the year. And it’s really, really lovely to watch. I think they need it. It’s more than a holiday and traditions. It’s a feel-good release valve.

Christmas lets Germans be the best versions of themselves. 

Now again you may think, that’s what Christmas means in my country too. But I’d ask you to ponder for a moment how far the walk is to “care-free” in your culture. Now, imagine how far that walk is from what you imagine German culture to be. A little bit longer right? Germans need Christmas more than most nations can imagine.

I asked a few German friends of mine if they thought many people here would be secretly happy to not have to go home. I mean, this is Berlin after all. I figured the whole of Neukölln and Kreutzberg would jump at the chance to skip a year of being misgendered, deadnamed and wrongly pronouned. Or relish the idea of not having to explain for the millionth time what their startup actually does. Or why they’re still single. Or wear nailpolish. Or when they’re actually going to get a real job. Or married.

Their reaction was unanimous. My German friends all shook their heads at the idea, like it was unfathomable.

One friend, who is the biggest fan I know of everything counter-cultural, paused for a moment and thought about it. Then said, “No, it’s different here. We don’t feel that way about it. We go home.”

And that, dear reader, is the dilemma that Angela finds herself in. Even the atheist cool kids want Christmas. So forming a majority coalition is going to be a cake walk compared to selling the idea of Stay At Home For The Holidays.

And therein also lies the tragedy. Angela has already said that she won’t seek re-election, so she is in the home stretch of her Chancellery. Which means that she may only be remembered as the one who put the No in Noel.

Not as the woman who was the first East German and first female Chancellor in the history of the country. Which makes her something of a reunification phenomenon and feminist trailblazer.

Not as the longest consecutively serving leader of a democratic nation in Europe. Obama once called her the Chancellor of the Free World.

Not as the glue that many credit with holding the EU together during the global financial crisis of 2008-2009. Which made her akin to the Union’s unofficial leader.

Not as the politician who has gone toe to toe with some of the biggest egos on the planet and finished them off, often with a single deadpan comment. In rap terms, she’s dropped more mics that the East and West Coast combined.

Not even will she be remembered as a fashion icon. Love or hate it, the lady has a look. And she’s stuck to it. The fashionista in me kind of admires someone who’s decided to wear black shoes, black pants, black tops and then completed it with three-button blazers in literally every shade of the Pantone Wheel. She’s pulled off Chartreuse, Tangerine and Cerulean. Who does that?

Nope, Angela is running the real risk of having her long list of political, societal and style accomplishments being utterly forgotten. And instead being simply the one who ruined the roasted duck, soured the sauerkraut, and kicked over the Glühwein barrel.

I can see the statue of her in the Volkspark now; axe in full swing, striking at the base of a decorated tree as two children watch on, clinging to each other.

So if you’re secretly happy about planning a Xmas with your chosen family or just your partner at home, and counting your blessings for a year’s reprieve from the travelling, family dramas and expense of the Yuletide, spare a thought for the Germans. And particularly for Angela.

Because she may go down in history not as the Chancellor, but the Canceller.