The fact that this camp is special is already noticeable at the entrance. Here’s a man in his 60s, hands in pockets, black t-shirt that says racism kills. “Uli”, as they call him here, grins and says: “Everything is quiet in the camp”. At first glance, this may not sound very special and even very banal. But “Uli” is not just a kind of bouncer who has just started his five-hour shift at the camp entrance.
dr Ulrich Wilken, as others call him, is Vice President of the Hessian State Parliament and a member of the Left Party. However, Wilken is not here as a representative of the state parliament, but as a member of the Kuhle Wampe motorcycle club. Because he thinks it’s important to show his protest against the G-7 meeting. As in 2015, the motorcycle club helped set up the camp. The left rockers also act as a kind of security service.
The camp consists of fewer people on Saturday evening than the organizers around the “Stop G7 Elmau” alliance had expected. So far, the 750 participants who have registered have not come together by far, it looks more like half. Many groups who actually wanted to take their protest to Garmisch-Partenkirchen and of course to Elmau, where the G-7 summit is taking place, were probably deterred by the police presence. At least that’s how many camp residents see it.
The police are constantly present around the camp
On the way from Munich to Garmisch alone, the police showed a massive presence. In the market itself, some scoff at the fact that every Garmisch-Partenkirchner got a police officer. Around 18,000 officials are said to be on duty from all parts of Germany. Even the Austrian police are on site. The officers are also constantly present around the camp, journalists are asked for the name of their employer and their ID cards. Friendly, but also very determined.
In the midst of all this security machinery, which many consider exaggerated, the colorful tent camp on the edge of the market almost looks like the small Gallic village bravely resisting. At the first summit here in 2015, there was great resistance to the tent camp. The owner of the meadow, Bernhard Raubal, was placed under police protection because of various anonymous hostilities. In addition, those responsible in the town hall had initially completely forbidden camping. The administrative court in Munich quickly brushed aside the ban on the market town. Although there was no such headwind this year, the authorities only approved the camp last Monday, subject to many conditions, even though the application had been available for a good six months.
A few dozen tents stand around in front of the mountain backdrop
A few dozen smaller and larger tents are set up here in front of a breathtakingly beautiful mountain backdrop. One with a kitchen where dinner is being prepared, all meatless of course. Lentil dal with orange is available today. One in which a documentary was shown the night before about the exploitation of indigenous people in Latin American countries on whose land wind turbines are built without their consent. And one in which Erich, Zine and Lukas are sitting on a carpet on the floor.
Behind them hangs a placard that reads, “Think, Dream, Realize!” stands, on tables there are information brochures about the struggles that they believe are being forced on the Global South by the West. “We are not the rulers and owners of this world,” says Erich, 30, a trained nurse. The G-7 summit here, however, is exactly the symbolization of this. A group of powerful nations are meeting to discuss matters that will affect half the planet. Poorer countries are at best onlookers. Increased wheat prices, for example, which could have dire consequences for millions of people.
It’s a colorful mix of people protesting against the G-7 summit in Elmau: Here’s an elderly woman holding up a banner that says “Please peacefully”.
(Photo: Patrick Wehner)
Zine emphasizes that you don’t just want to be against something, you want to be for something. The 22-year-old sociology student organizes educational work in Munich and would like to clarify complicated issues, such as the role of the West as a donor in poorer countries. And she wants to start a commune. “But not according to the motto that we have sex with each other there all day,” she says and laughs.
Zine believes the best way to reach people is not through big headlines or sensational posts, but through face-to-face conversations. Erich and Lukas nod. “It’s important to look people in the eye,” says Lukas. The 29-year-old studied technical physics and is currently working as a day laborer for a farmer. Knowing your fellow human beings is a key to making the world a better place.
Yesterday, Erich says, a former member of the mountain rescue service sat in their tent, telling a remarkable story. “He said he used to be strictly against women in the mountain rescue service, would rather have resigned himself than accept them as normal members. Years later, the first woman in his mountain rescue service was his own daughter.”
The camp also attracts people that some observers would not have suspected there immediately. Which presumably says less about the camp than about the pigeonholing of the observers. Durle and Joe, for example, an elderly couple from the Ruhr area who do not want to give their last names. “We have our holiday home nearby and were curious about the camp,” says Durle. The two talk about the peace movement in the 1980s and the demos in Bonn they attended. It was important to them to pay a visit to the camp here because they think it’s great when young people demonstrate.