In the middle
While tens of thousands are taking to the streets against right-wing extremism in large cities, democratic protests in small Saxon towns have often been in the minority. A group of convinced grandmas want to change that.
Two police personnel carriers divide Waldheim’s picturesque market square into two camps. On one side are AfD demonstrators. They have been “walking” here almost every Monday for more than two years, first to protest against Corona measures and now against what they see as the wrong economic policy. They have supporters of the “Free Saxons” in tow, and men in right-wing extremist clothing can also be seen.
Hardly anyone stood on the other side for a long time. The right-wing camp was usually in the majority or completely alone. But something is happening – and this is also due to an age group that has not previously been considered incredibly political: older women. More precisely: grandmas.
In neighboring Döbeln, a local group of “Grandmas Against the Right” has formed and is now taking to the streets in central Saxony. Above all, to be for something, the women emphasize again and again. For democracy above all, for freedom in life and thought.
The counter-protest was mostly defeated
“There are a lot of us again today, that makes me happy,” says Ute Behrisch, holding a sign with the inscription “Grandmas against the right.” About 15 grandmas and one grandpa came together today and greeted each other warmly.
It is perhaps even more important in Waldheim than in Döbeln to support the protests, says Behrisch. The situation in the city of 8,000 inhabitants is even more difficult, precisely because the protests against right-wing extremists were mostly defeated.
The grandmas met at a demonstration in neighboring Döbeln in mid-January. It was a time of great mass protests in response to research by the Correctiv network about a secret meeting in Potsdam.
For many people in Germany, this was the initial spark to take to the streets. The women from “Grandmas Against the Right” also describe how happy they were to find like-minded people and to be able to do something together.
They recognize each other by their signs and posters
“I got the poster from a friend and hung it around because I felt like a grandma, because I am a grandma,” says Andrea Wendler, describing the feeling at the demo in January. “I went and met the other posters and the grandmas that belonged to them. It was like a stone in the water. It gets bigger and bigger in waves and you get stronger and stronger.”
The grandmothers recognize each other by their signs and posters. They decide to form a local group. They get tips from the federal association. For example, cookies are always well received. Baking against fascism, so to speak.
Local media begin to report and the group gradually grows. More than 30 women are already there. Not everyone knows each other. But every new grandma is warmly welcomed, they say.
It takes more energy in a small town
“I am a grandmother with heart and soul, I am very happy to be able to accompany my grandchildren,” says Behrisch, describing her drive. “And I’m very afraid that they won’t grow up in a free, democratic country like we have now.”
Behrisch has already taken to the streets for democracy. That was in 1989 – and the protests in Leipzig led to reunification. Perhaps it is this experience that makes freedom even more meaningful.
Because – the grandmas pretty much agree – it takes more energy to go out on the streets in a small town. Leipzig, where 10,000 people come together during the week to demonstrate against right-wing extremism, is an hour away by car. And in the rural region between the two Saxon metropolises of Leipzig and Dresden, in the small valleys and towns, everyone knows everyone.
“Sometimes felt a bit abandoned”
“Whenever you express your political opinion to the outside world, you have to expect that you will be treated with hostility and that others will have different opinions,” says Manuela Luci, describing the feeling in the small town. “You have to be strong to be able to represent that.”
“We sometimes felt a bit abandoned,” says Cornelia Schubert, another committed grandmother. She has been living in Döbeln again for three years, and is now standing on the sidelines of a rally by the right-wing extremist small party “Free Saxony” on the Döbeln market. The right-wing extremist micro-party is here every week. She wants to collect signatures to take part in the local elections in June.
A former Dresden radio presenter spreads conspiracy stories, a former NPD city councilor claps, but otherwise hardly anyone takes any notice of the stand and the slogans. Many people just walk by. But Schubert stops and complains about the rally. Later she will take part in a meeting of the “Grandmas Against the Right” in Döbeln for the first time.
The signs bob up and down
In Waldheim, 200 people face each other at the two demos. It gets loud when the AfD event participants set off on a so-called “walk”. The police presence forms a dividing line; there are no discussions or conversations between the camps.
Andrea Wendler stands between the other grandmas and moves to the beat of the music of a brass band that sets the mood. The “Grandmas Against the Right” signs bob up and down.
How do you actually react when there is an acquaintance or relative on the other side? Wendler says this hasn’t happened to her yet. And she’s not afraid of it either: “I still believe that you can talk to those you know. It’s so close and so dense here.”
That evening it remains quiet in Waldheim. Such demos, as participants describe it, are always a bit of self-reinforcement. That you are not alone.
The “Grandmas Against the Right” from Döbeln also want to continue to take to the streets of Central Saxony with this feeling. To be for something: democracy and freedom.