Last year in Berlin, I found my way to the site of the bunker where Hitler spent his final days. As he led his country to catastrophe, the Führer famously had a meltdown every time he received an accurate update. Eventually, he drove away the straight talkers until only the flatterers were left.
It’s axiomatic: if you reject people who challenge you, you end up surrounded by mediocrity. And then it’s a race to the bottom, in any context.
I followed the line of the wall that once divided East and West Germany. The train of thought pursued another line: from the personal to the political, from the individual to the nation state. Ever since I started writing (aged 6), I’ve worked with my earliest impression – we are all animals. Rich or poor, famous or nobody, educated or not, we are all one kind of glorified baboon. We operate in animal patterns; the degree of free will is debatable. When I’ve fictionalised politicians, I’ve been playing with the same idea.
At the site of Berlin’s former Checkpoint Charlie, I recalled passing through another checkpoint. Entering the Occupied Territories of the West Bank required permission from the Israeli Army.
As we waited at the border, we were aggressively instructed by IDF soldiers: no photos. I couldn’t believe the size and brutality of the wall. As the Berlin Wall once did, Israel’s security wall cuts whole communities in half. It divides and alienates and imprisons. It’s a symbol of cruelty and oppression, of dysfunction and the crushing of hope.
Inside the West Bank, amid sadness and claustrophobia, the population struggles to live. That day, our Palestinian driver mislaid his permit. It was a disaster; without it, we wouldn’t be allowed back through. He texted for help to search for his papers. We waited in a battered van on the side of the road, and ahead of us loomed the wall. We stared at it in silence. It was a monstrosity.
President Trump promised a wall that Mexico would pay for. In his second term, he’s building a fortress. The walls are made of paranoia and impunity. Every day now, people are detained at the US border. A British graphic artist has reported the latest horror story. Questioned over her tourist visa, she was detained, shackled and imprisoned for 19 days. She had money for a plane ticket and wanted only to leave.
The prison she was sent to was a commercial entity with no incentive to release inmates. Liaison between the jail and ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) officials was sporadic. She met women who’d been in custody for months. The terrifying ordeal ended only after her family went to the UK media. Her urgent advice: do not travel to the United States.
Travellers are being detained for minor irregularities, or deported when a search of devices reveals negative views of the current administration. As he leads his country into ignominy, the leader will tolerate no criticism. Surrounded by flatterers, he doubles down.
This is where extreme populism is always heading. One minute you’re asserting your freedoms, fighting wokeness or disrespecting institutional norms, the next you’ve weakened the rule of law and social fabric. Soon, everyone is frightened and nobody is safe.
Intolerance builds walls, and walls perpetuate prejudice. You learn from experience how exposure breaks down animosity. If young children are irritating you, spend more time with them. If you hate dogs, get a dog. If you’re a racist, get out and find diversity. It’s striking how easily aversion becomes familiarity, how the walls come down. We’re all the same animal; the pressing worry is our habitat. If only we could focus more attention on that.
