Squatting a Church (16 December 1977)

The events here described follow the arrest of two students at the Free University in Berlin and their mistreatment by the police. The students were also denied access to their lawyers.

A friend and fellow strike committee member was on the phone.

“I thought you might be already at home. I have called Irmgard. Do you have time? Now?”

“Sure, but you know, it’s two in the morning. What’s up?”

“Yes, I know. Something we can’t talk about on the phone. Can you meet me at 3:00 at Kant Strasse? You know the phonebooth near the café?”

“Don’t know, but sure I know the café. I will go there and find it.”

The line went dead and I got ready immediately. Oranien Strasse to Kant Strasse is some distance. I had to take a night bus and they were running only once an hour, from a stop 300 meters away. I was out the door two minutes later, ran to the stop and caught the bus just leaving.

Arrived 2:45 at the café, and immediately spotted the phonebooth. This early in the morning Berlin was quiet, empty and cold. My friend arrived 20 minutes late. We didn’t talk. He just said, “Come.”

Not a word was spoken. Obviously something was going on. Some action was planned that needed to be kept secret till the last minute.

Along Kant Strasse into a small side street. We stopped in front of a bookshop, which was totally dark. My friend knocked a certain signal on the shop window, and the door opened immediately. When we entered we were checked by two students. My friend was recognized and they waved him through. One looked at my face, then recognized me.

“Ah, great, you are from the strike committee of the PI. OK, go through to the back.” *

I followed them to a door at the rear, along a small corridor, into the book storage room. Here there was light and when I entered, already about 15 people were crammed into the small room. We were welcomed and somebody announced: “We still have to wait. Four more people are expected. We need 20; even a few more would be good.”

Talking to the others, it became clear that nobody knew the reason for this very secret meeting. We’d each been contacted and had arrived, ready for anything. A few more students turned up in the following 20 minutes. The leader called over to the two guards at the door: “Are we all here now? Or is someone else expected?”

“No, one else. Everybody we have contacted is here, plus two more. The PI is also here,” pointing at me.

The leader looked at me: “Great that the PI is with us. Can you call somebody, from here? We have a phone outside. Can you reach someone else from the PI you know and totally trust?”

“Yes. I know someone. Her name is Irmgard.”

“No names on the phone. Just give Irmgard the following message: she should call six others from the PI whom she totally trusts. Now, immediately. These six should then call six others trust. Everybody should be ready and waiting by the phone at 5:00 am sharp. Irmgard will get a call around 5:40. Somebody will explain everything to her.”

I was let out into the dark shop and phoned Irmgard. She answered immediately, probably still sitting in the kitchen with all her woman friends, drinking wine and talking politics.

“No names. Can you now call six people from the PI? Tell them to be ready, waiting, and dressed by their phone at 5:00. Can you stay up and wait for a telephone call at 5.40? Someone will call you and explain.”

She didn’t ask why. In Berlin at that time, we all had to be careful. Telephones were tapped by the secret police. That was certain and everybody knew it. Places like her communal household were for sure very suspicious to police: six lesbians, two outspoken lawyers, active in demonstrations, giving advice for legal actions.

Irmgard understood. I knew she would.

I gave the phone number to the leader. We all left, waiting for the plan to be explained, waiting to be told what was happening next. 25 students standing tightly together in this small book-storage room.

A speech from the leader: “Okay, first it is okay to smoke. We still have to wait some time. But we have prepared ashtrays. So be very careful when you are smoking, and make sure the cigarette is extinguished. We don’t want to burn down this beautiful shop. We would have a lot of explaining to do to the police.”

He smiled.

“Everybody curious and excited? Ha ha.”

“Okay, some more. There might be consequences from this action, so everybody can decide now if they want to stay or leave. If you want to leave: no problem and no hard feelings. You can leave now, but you have to sit outside in the shop until 6:00, and then someone will let you out, and you can go home. And from now on – I forgot: No names! If you talk with each other: no names, strictly no names.”

“You can call me by name: my name is Heinrich Lübke.”

Everybody reacted, cracking up laughing; that was the name of the idiot German president, famous for his disastrous speeches. Nobody left, but some raised their hands and started asking questions.

“No questions. You in or you out? Decide now.”

His eyes swept across us slowly, looking at each one and waiting for each nod. “Okay, great. Everybody is in. And now you all want to know, right?

“But I will not tell you. Sorry. This is very carefully planned and we have to be careful. Last night two apartments were raided by the Secret Service. Just hassling, because they want to intimidate, and want to find out what’s going on.

“This little planned thing is our response to the arrest and disappearance of Christoph and Peter. From now on no more names, as long as it takes, absolute discipline – no names. At 4:50 we will leave this shop in groups of three. You will be taken to cars parked at different locations. It will be very, very tight with 25 in three cars – although one is a VW van. We will arrive at our object at 5:30. You will then find out what’s planned. You will be briefed in the car and at 5:45 we enter the object and that’s all I can tell you now.”

Okay, that was clear; and you could feel the air of excitement in the room. And did I ever even consider not participating? NO and NO.

Flying like an eagle and carried by the wind.

Everybody was whispering now as if the Secret Police were just outside the door. I found this really funny in that moment.

We waited, and some guys among us must have known the plan because when the time arrived, it was all so very organized. One guy nodded at me and my neighbor, and we left with him. Outside, just a quick look around, all quiet and empty. We followed our guy. Suddenly a car, we crammed inside, twelve and one driver, the car was full, and we started off.

The car stopped, and all of us immediately looked out to see our object. It was 5:30 in the morning. We had stopped almost in front of a big old church, probably built in the 17th or 18th Century. Everybody gasped. Today I know it was the Protestant Johannis Church in Moabit; at that time I never even knew its name.

We were immediately briefed: “Service starts at 6:00. There will be only a few people coming to early morning service, mostly old woman or men. The priest usually enters the front at 5:55. We enter the church at 5.50 and sit down in the back. Nobody talks. When the priest arrives we will all get up and secure the entrance, and some will line up at the sides. And I will walk to the front to talk to the priest before he starts the service.

“We will seize the church, and we will stay in there as long as it takes. We hope it all works out. People will arrive within one hour to support us inside, before the police even notice what’s going on.

“Once they find out they will seal the church off, and maybe even evict us by force. So we have to be prepared.

“Also, everybody please listen, the church is not our enemy. We will all behave. We will not destroy anything, and one of the first things we do inside will be: we will select guards who will watch out that nothing is destroyed.

“Okay everybody?” He checked his watch, “Then let’s go.”

It all happened like clockwork. We all entered and sat down silently at the back. Only about 15 people had arrived for morning service, mostly old women, some of them turning their heads towards us when we came in, probably wondering why so many young people had come to service this morning.

The priest arrived and we all got up. Our leader walked up to the front to talk to him. He listened. I could see that he was not even shocked or angry. He just listened. Some kind of agreement had been reached: “He will do a very short service of 10 minutes. He will explain. He asks us to be respectful and let everyone leave in peace.”

After his short service was finished, he explained in a little speech to his congregation who we were, what we had planned, and why. All services would be canceled until further notice.

After the congregants left, the church was empty; we explained our church-squatting to the priest in more detail.

“Many more students will be arriving.”

We at least hoped that. At some point for sure the police would find out, and probably all hell would break loose outside. Maybe even a raid of the church.

The priest listened. He asked us again to respect the church and not to destroy anything. We assured him that we would do our utmost to respect the church, and that we would organize everything inside.

Afterwards he went to call his Bishop for instructions. One of us followed him, just to make sure he didn’t also call the police.

The first students arrived after 30 minutes. More arrived every minute. It must have looked pretty funny seeing so many young people enter the church so early in the morning.

Every newcomer was greeted by one of us, informed about the conversation so far with the priest and about the rules we had all agreed upon. We explained that the 25 who first started this squatting, were now responsible to organize the whole strike inside.

7:30, no police yet, and there were already over 150 of us inside.

The priest came back from his long talk with his Bishop.

He first spoke with a small group of us, and then suddenly I was in the inner circle organizing all the newcomers, overlooking all activities and delegating others to keep the peace, sit down and wait for what was surely going to happen eventually.

We all decided that it was best if the priest talked to everybody.

He started approximately like this: “Welcome all in this house of God. I don’t like what it is happening but we all now have to work together so that this house of God is protected. So I ask you all to respect this, to not damage anything, to not get close to our beautiful altar. Do not smoke in here.”

Now he got some disagreeing remarks: “Shit, we didn’t think about that.” More people had come in… and nobody had thought of the smoking – and most of them smoked, and some of them had already begun smoking.

We needed to organize something about the smoking immediately. The police had still not arrived. A few people collected others’ lit cigarettes and took them outside to extinguish them. We interrupted the priest, saying that we had to find a solution and that until we had found one, nobody should smoke inside. Ashtrays were needed, and luckily we found two at the back door, probably left by the cleaning ladies.

The priest went on: “The Protestant church has always protected minorities, and protects everybody who comes to God and asks for his help. You came to us and you ask for his protection and help. The Bishop will not allow the police to raid this church. The church property ends at the sidewalk outside and no policeman will be allowed inside this church, unless they come in peace and in a small group, to start a dialogue with all of you and with me.”

He had just finished when all hell broke loose outside, sirens everywhere, students came running in through the open church door, and a few of us, and the priest, ran outside.

I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this!

Yes! The police arrived in full strength. Cars and trucks came to a screeching halt every few seconds, with heavily-armored police jumping out, taking positions. Still students came running, bumping into the police cars, running through the lines of riot-gear policemen which were still forming, running towards us standing at the front door. As far as we could see from the church door, police and heavy activity: a real spectacle unfolding in front of our eyes.

Now it was done. We were inside and they were outside. We were cut off. That was it and for sure there was a lot of tension inside now. What would happen?

Standoff.

Four of us stood outside in front of the church, the priest and us – just watching.

No in, no out now.

The priest suggested we go down and talk to the policeman in charge of this operation.

A few strikers walked down, stopping then – still on church property.

I wasn’t one of them. I stayed at the top watching all this and wondering what the hell was happening with me. My life had changed so much in the past weeks, and now, even surrounded by hundreds of cops, I loved every second of it. No fear in me, just determination.

Down by the sidewalk a declaration with all our demands was handed over to the cops. The spokespeople must have worked it out the previous night.

Our most important demands:

• The location of the arrested students, Christoph and Peter, is immediately disclosed by the police.
• Their lawyers (one of them Ströbele, who had already defended some RAF guys) are granted immediate access to them.
• No interrogation can be done without the presence of their lawyers.
• The students must immediately be examined by doctors, in the presence of their lawyers, and treated according to the demands of the lawyers and the examining doctor.
• All charges are dismissed and they are freed immediately.

Inside, things were bustling with energy. Committees were selected for negotiating with the police, preparing eventual contact with the lawyers. 50 guards were chosen to be on a 24-hour shift, outside and all along the walls inside, and at the back door.

A press committee, I was part of that, began preparing statements for any contact with the many German newspapers and TV stations.

A head count was done. Almost 300 students had made it inside. This was far beyond any expectation we had had before. I didn’t see Irmgard, and was sad for a moment. But about 20 people from the PI had also arrived – also two fellow students from our PI strike committee. So the telephone chain via Irmgard at 5:40 in the morning had worked.

A list of rules for everybody was worked out.

The altar area, five meter diameter was declared “No Go zone”

Also the area behind the altar was No Go zone. People could sleep on the pews but had to take off their shoes. Nobody was allowed to lean with his back against the church walls.

No Go zone around the confession benches, and around small altars in the walls, where candles were burning and statues were standing.

We didn’t have any food – just a few bottles of water some students had brought in. The organizing committee had arranged some sandwiches and some water, but I guess nobody had expected that almost 300 students would make it inside to participate. The food was not even enough for 50, for one day.

Smoking was only allowed around the two ashtrays we had found at the back door, until we had organized some more ashtrays. One student only responsible to empty these ashtrays and keep them kind of empty.

The priest was a really nice guy, still young, also politically interested. He knew about the strike from the day before and about the arrested students. He didn’t agree with all our points, but he somehow agreed that we had a legitimate right for an action like this.

All decisions and all discussions were always cleared up with everybody in the church. We had to prepare for the worst, maybe many weeks of being cut off inside, with no food and no water.

So this could also end up as an unplanned hunger strike. After the normal time for lunch, suddenly many boxes of water, sandwiches and ashtrays were dropped at the back door, arranged by the Bishop and our little priest. The perfect cordon by the police was not so perfect, for they had forgotten about the back door. So they couldn’t stop that first and only delivery.

The first night arrived. We had guards all over the church who were to stay awake. They were also to supervise, that all rules were followed. Guards outside at the front, at the entrance, and some at the back entrance. No lovemaking in the church in the night – that was one of our rules.

No contact whatsoever with police that first day.

Day 2

We were on top of everything. The priest had slept with us in the church. I don’t know if he really enjoyed it, but then what could he do? Talking with him sometimes during the day, I saw he had really relaxed after the first night, after he saw how well we had organized everything under these difficult circumstances. I saw him smiling a lot and also talking with many students.

He seemed to enjoy our squatting a lot! A good chance for God’s work. All of us respected the position the Protestant church had chosen, no matter what each of us thought about religion and God.

Already a few hours after the police cordon was established, on the first day, a few newspapers had arrived. Judging from afar on the second day, all major newspapers and TV stations had arrived. That was great for us; it was all in the open now.

Negotiations had started on the second day in the morning. In the afternoon: our first success: one of the lawyers representing the two students, could enter our church for 20 minutes to inform us about the latest developments.

The police had brought out the two students.

Wow.

So one lawyer had already met with them.

(If any of those lawyers from that time reads this book, please contact me and correct me about what actually was happening in the outside world during this squatting.)

Suddenly news broke in the church: after negotiating further with police, our second success. We got access to the press. But they were not allowed to come inside the church.

Teams of two students were allowed to go out to meet three newspapers of our choice. I was assigned to talk to Spiegel magazine.

The arranged time came and we walked out. Two policemen escorted us through the security cordon. Behind it, a Spiegel car was waiting for us with two reporters inside. In front and behind, a police car with sirens. We were thus escorted though Berlin to the Spiegel building.

We were taken to a top-floor office, two policemen guarding outside the door, and inside four Spiegel reporters, including Augstein, the founder of Spiegel.

Two hours had been prearranged for us to talk with them, to answer all questions. So, okay, that’s what we did. We handed over to them our demands, and also told them what was going on inside the church.

After exactly two hours the policemen knocked, and we were escorted outside to the waiting car, and back with sirens to the church. We were led by policemen through the cordon, and then were free again back inside the church.

The second night passed.

Day 3 – Big Developments.

Suddenly, around eleven in the morning, news spread throughout the church that the two students had been released. It seemed a rumor at first, but we needed confirmation that all our demands had been fulfilled.

We waited and waited until 1 pm. An air of excitement was among us; was it all over? So soon? It seemed almost a pity, we had just settled in.

One of the lawyers entered suddenly. He thanked us.

All our demands had been met. The two students were free. There were no charges pressed against them, at least for now. Also no charges against us, because the Protestant church had never made a police report. They never made a complaint. We had been guests of the church. If we agreed to end this squatting now – the police would withdraw and we would be free to go.

There was jubilation in the church, and there was not even a vote necessary. The strike was finished and we could go.

But wait a minute! 300 people in a church, cut off, leave a lot of dirt! We had to end this strike in an orderly way. The lawyer left with the message that the strike was finished and that we would leave at 4:00 p.m. We still had to fulfil our promise, to clean up the church, to bring it back to a condition as if we never had been there.

60 people were chosen to stay and clean. The rest could go.

The pastor was delighted that we were standing by our word that we had given him in the first few hours. Within 30 minutes the two regular cleaning ladies appeared with lots of buckets, garbage bags, two huge vacuum cleaners, and all kinds of cleaning material. And we began…

Every pew was washed. The whole church was vacuumed and mopped. In some places we had to polish the floor with a big industrial floor polisher. The garbage was collected and taken to the garbage dump at the back.

By 3:30 pm: finished, and the church was clean like it had been before.

Seven people stayed to the end. Together with the priest we did a last inspection. He was smiling. The church was clean, and we all shook hands with him. He thanked us for our presence there. And we parted as friends.

It was a very strange moment for me, leaving that church. I felt almost sad. Outside, just one police car was left, and two policemen watched us from far.

Very elated, high in spirit, I first went back to Irmgard for a few hours, and then to my apartment for the night. I had to say hello to my cat Sandy.

Irmgard had dropped in each day for a short time to give her food and clean the cat toilet.

Although I was very tired, I couldn’t sleep that night. I started up the big old tile ovens, and sat all night on the carpeted floor of my living room, my cat beside me. The night was beautiful. My cat was beautiful and life was beautiful.

The next day, energy was high at the PI. We had succeeded against all authorities. Victory! We were briefed about what had happened at the PI during those three days.

We learned that on the second day a demonstration to support our demand, to support the two students, to support the church occupation, had been held and over 30, 000 students had participated.

We had been in the news. Yes, we’d even made it into the national news.

To this day I don’t know what was written in the newspaper during that time, or if there was ever an article in Spiegel magazine. I only read one article, and it was an eye opener for me. News is distorted to make money.

News has no conscience. News has no honor. News is an instrument to influence peoples thinking. News is used to manipulate people into obedience. News is the modern chain of slavery. News has only one function, to keep us at the edge of fear and insecurity.

News spreads violence.

The front page of the Bildzeitung, the day after we had cleared the church: a photo of a partially burned altar; that was supposed to be the altar that we had left in the church after the occupation. We were portrayed as vandals, extinguishing cigarettes on church benches, leaving broken bottles everywhere, vandalizing and desecrating a holy church.

This article hit us all very hard. That Bildzeitung was read by 900 students within an hour probably, and we were all outraged. A delegation of us went, the same afternoon, back to talk to the priest.

He had read the article already. He had already talked to the Bishop. The Protestant church had already sent a letter to the Bildzeitung, refuting this story on all points.

The priest showed us a copy of this letter. The letter was the reflection of the truth of what had been happening – that the church was left by the students in a very clean condition, with nothing burned and nothing damaged. No fire had taken place. No cigarette burns had been found.

Did it have any effect? Did we get a correction in the Bildzeitung?

NO.

That’s our world. We lie. And we lie more and more and nobody feels anything about it any more.

The big strike went on. Sometime towards the end of December there was a sudden stop of the strike, and all became just normal, overnight.

Chapter 8 (edited) of Chitbodhi’s book, One Life

Image credits

• Church from outside: de-academic.com
• Banners on church: commons.m.wikimedia.org
• Church interior: de.m.wikipedia.org

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One Life: A True Account
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