Der Sonntag zog sich hin, und die Temperaturen in Bangkok gingen mal wieder weit über die 30 hinaus, und so zog ich Vorhänge zu und setzte mich vor den iMac.
Aha, wieder einer tot in den USA, in Minneapolis, sogar – zum zweiten Mal in zwei Wochen. Ich wurde ein kleines bisschen sauer, und dann fiel mir der einzigartige und nun leider verstorbene Franz Josef Wagner ein, der einmal (so hatte mir Helge Timmerberg bei seinem letzten Bangkok-Besuch erzählt) einen vollen Aschenbecher in Richtung eines Reporters geworfen hatte, dessen Headline zu schlecht gelungen war. Da war er noch Chefredakteur der Bunte.
Überfüllte Aschenbecher stehen bei mir zwar nicht. Aber um die Wut in Worte zu fassen, könnte ich es ja mal machen, wie es der „Gossen-Goethe“ täglich in der BILD-Zeitung (Cover!) getan hat: einen von Pathos und Rührseligkeit triefenden Brief schreiben. Auf Englisch, for maximum exposure.
Dear United States,
You were the beacon of hope. You were the lighthouse in a world full of darkness and kings who believed God personally placed the crown upon their heads.
What a daring, magnificent idea you had!
The fathers of your nation, men in powdered wigs and with bad teeth, but with brains as sharp as diamonds, did the unimaginable. They said: „No.“ No to absolute power. No to the one strong man. No to a select few who felt they had the right to dictate everyone’s life.
You took power, that sweet poison everyone is addicted to, and shattered it: Executive. Legislative. Judicial. A triad of justice and freedom. No one should have it all. It was the greatest, most daring experiment in human history. Like teaching a lion to be vegan.
And it worked.
We looked up to you. We, the old, tired Europe – still trapped in an era with kings and emperors, while you cast the first vote – we admired you. You were the big brother who showed us that man is not condemned to be oppressed. That the time of tyranny has ended once and for all. And millions of the hungry and the dreamers came to your country to live this truth.
And now? I look across the ocean, and I feel aghast.
I do not see freedom anymore. I see masked men of the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) rolling through Minnesota like a tsunami. I see combat gear in civilian streets, hands hovering over holstered Glock 19s.
I see men kicking down doors behind people who are living their lives. I see mothers torn from their children. I see fathers vanishing into windowless buses.
I see cars idling in the middle of icy roads, driver’s doors open, engines running, abandoned like ghost ships on the asphalt.
And in the silence that follows, I see two innocent bodies, executed like a mafia job, two extinguished candles in the land of the free. We all see them.
I am German. I know what happens when men in uniforms start knocking on doors at night to take people away, the heavy boots. We have seen this movie before. We wrote the script. And let me tell you: The ending is terrible.
The great experiment called „democracy“ seems to be coming to an end. The lion is eating meat again. And the light in the lighthouse is merely flickering. But it is not out yet.
We, the old Europe, we are watching you now. Not with admiration, but with bated breath. The match is in your hands, not ours. You taught us how to fight for the light.
Do not forget your own lesson.
Sincerely,
Europe
