November 2000
Action Figures
Why Munich dwellers feel the need to show up in numbers
Reliable sources say that the typical
Münchner was once a species content unto himself. Locals in beer gardens kept to themselves, seeking privacy at separate tables. Foreigners and tourists were met with monosyllables or even grouchiness, at least until after the fourth beer. Socializing was carefully limited to a close circle of friends.
Today, such behavior is virtually unthinkable. The typical Munich resident likes nothing more than a good crowd. On Monday evenings during the so-called “Blade Night,” 25,000 glide through the city with an air of enraptured ease — though nothing much is going on other than collective in-line skating. Thousands attend the “Union Move” parade on Leopoldstrasse every year, even though — unlike in other large cities — the noise levels are strictly regulated and floats are
allowed to travel only a short distance. Last New Year’s Eve, the throngs along the “millennium mile” in Schwabing were so large that the area had to be cordoned off — though the much touted stretch didn’t really have much to offer aside from fireworks and drinks at horrendous prices. People simply went because everyone else seemed to be going.
The list continues ad infinitum. Just think of open-air cinema on Königsplatz, Christopher Street Day, “Opera for All” on Max-Joseph-Platz, the Munich marathon and finally Oktoberfest. It appears you only need to mention that lots of people will be at any given place and immediately all Munich rushes to join in. “I want to go where the action is,” a motto that has penetrated all areas of life. Be it the hopelessly overcrowded lecture halls at Munich’s university or the celebrations for Bavaria’s soccer team FC Bayern, the mob mentality reigns supreme. Though the ritual has become so routine it is almost boring, thousands still gather on Marienplatz within half an hour after the end of a match to once again boo Munich’s mayor, a declared fan of TSV 1860, the rival club.
It is no coincidence that Ernst Toller wrote his famous drama
Masse Mensch (
The Human Mass) in 1921, after experiencing the
Räterepublik in Munich. “He who stands in the way is overrun,” declares “Nameless” at the end of the third tableau. The chorus screams: “Mass is Action!” — “Action!!!” and storms off stage before the lights are dimmed. Here, we not only learn that Toller penned some overwrought plays, but also that the point of any mass event is to ignite passions, to set things in motion. This has always been the case in Munich — for better or for worse. On one hand, Hitler didn’t choose Munich as the “capital of the movement” for nothing. Yet, on the other hand, Munich inaugurated Germany’s “chain of lights” in 1992, a demonstration in which 400,000 people protested the rising specter of right-wing radicalism, long before officials reacted with carefully phrased statements.
At first glance, these events have little to do with why people head, in droves, to the Tollwood-Festival or what attracts thousands of visitors to the Kunstpark Ost every weekend. Most of the time it’s just a matter of being there rather than being actively engaged. Perhaps Nobel Prize winner Elias Canetti, in his major philosophical work
Mass and Might from 1960, observes this phenomenon best. “Nothing has been announced, nothing anticipated. Suddenly all is black with people … Many have no idea what has happened, they have nothing to say when asked; still, they are in a hurry to be where most others are.” In other words, it’s not important why so many people are gathered at any random place, just that they are there. Large gatherings seem to promise quality. It’s no wonder that polled residents have chosen Albrecht Altdorfer’s Battle of Alexander — on display in the Alte Pinakothek — as “Munich’s favorite painting” for decades. If this painting isn’t a most powerful depiction of a rallying horde, what is?
Maybe today’s
Münchner are more in need — or think they are — of joining the crowd than residents of other cities. It’s as though they feel the need to reiterate that they are not residents of some cow town, as the “true” urbanites of Hamburg or Berlin might wish to believe, but denizens of a metropolis just as exciting as any other. And perhaps that’s why they like to congregate whenever possible, rollerblading like mad by the thousands through the city’s streets, streaming to public events of all kinds and fighting their way into KPO discos every Saturday night. It’s as if they want to show pop culture trend analysts, who like to praise Berlin and pan Munich: Look, we’re the best!
If this is truly the case then what we have here is no less than a full-blown inferiority complex. Not a pretty thought. One thing is for sure, the Munich resident was once upon a time far more self-assured than today; in the beer garden and elsewhere. <<<
Franz Kotteder is a contributing journalist for the Süddeutsche Zeitung.This article was first published in that publication, in German and has been edited here for space considerations.
