If you want something interesting, go to part II.

Part I: Housekeeping

You want to see a video entry about Oktoberfest. So do I. I have good news and bad news regarding that entry: the bad news is that certain technical difficulties require me to restructure the whole thing; the good news is that certain recent developments also require me to restructure the whole thing, so I would have taken it all back to the drawing board regardless of the technical difficulties.

But Jared, what certain recent developments could possibly keep you from making a super-special video entry?

Please see Figure 1.

Figure 1.

I had the good fortune to celebrate the Cannstatter Volksfest in Stuttgart, the city’s answer to Munich’s Oktoberfest and the second-largest beer fest in the country. While I deeply desire to post an entry about it as soon as possible, my better judgment tells me to do something else instead and give myself time to think about all the ways I can clearly communicate just how amazing these last two weekends have been. In order to experience as little stress as possible during the project as a whole, I will develop it as a two or three part epic to be released soon after this entry.

So yeah, this one isn’t about Oktoberfest. It’s not that funny, either. My apologies. If you really want me to make some funnies, I’ll try to throw in a picture or something. But don't get greedy. Funnies don’t grow on trees, you know.

Part II: The Good Stuff

I had a fairly vague understanding of German politics and social issues before I came here. That’s not to say that I’m an expert , which I guess is my point – everything I’m about to say is probably wrong simply because of my Midwestern American viewpoint. There’s my disclaimer, now here’s my analysis.

In the late 1980s the government of Baden-Württemberg decided their train system needed an upgrade. Over the next 30 years the idea ballooned into the Stuttgart 21 project, a high-speed train line that would connect Paris with Vienna, Budapest, and Bratislava. Stuttgart would be right in the middle, the new central hub of inter-European travel. The proposed station would be built underground, boasting state-of-the art architecture and a battery of energy conservation techniques. The completed station would introduce energy-saving high-speed trains that would drastically cut traffic, travel time, and energy consumption; and building an underground station would open up a whole new quarter of the city for urban redevelopment and environmental initiatives. According to the government’s estimates, the city would be wealthier, cleaner, more beautiful, and more sustainable than ever before.

Artistic rendering of the approved final concept, unicorn petting zoo not pictured.
 

The government’s original cost estimate was 4.5 billion Euros, a price tag the citizens of Baden-Württemberg reluctantly accepted. After the ruling party (which promised a 4.5 billion budget) was elected the estimate rose to 4.8 billion. Shortly thereafter a non-government agency did its own study of the plans and announced that Stuttgart 21 would require at least 7 billion Euros, not including long-term upkeep.

Further evidence that the government made their calculations using a single abacus.

After decades of design and cost negotiations, construction began on February 10, 2010. At this point the people of Stuttgart realized that making Stuttgart 21 a reality also entails the demolition of a wing of the original train station, a stretch of the Schlossgarten, and many of its ancient trees.

Possibly inspired by Japan’s urban redevelopment strategy.

Upon seeing the destruction of two of their interwar relics, a section of Stuttgart’s population ignited a protest movement. Hundreds and eventually thousands of citizens took to the streets, aggressively but legally asserting their say in the matter. Before the recent negotiations, things had gotten darker and bloodier with each rally as children joined the protests while the adults around them took greater and greater risks. In the chaos many police officers and certain protesters took opportunities to escalate the conflict, and the release of many violent and generally unflattering photos of the riot police in action has led protesters, reporters, bloggers, and politicians to proclaim a spirit of martial law and totalitarianism in Stuttgart. Standard media sensationalism aside, there appears to be a good case for excessive force on the part of the riot police. The protesters have met with considerable if only momentary success: demolition has temporarily stopped and a mediator has been appointed to reach some sort of compromise, although many believe it to be impossible.

With all of this information now acknowledged, one must wonder where the outrage was in 2007, when Stuttgart 21 was approved all the way down to the city council and where there should have been the greatest level of transparency between the people and their representatives. It turns out that in 2007 a petition was signed by 67,000 citizens asking for a popular vote to determine the approval of the project. After submission it was promptly caught in the finest, densest, and most impenetrable web ever conceived by man: bureaucracy. The politicians and businessmen paid no attention and negotiated without it.

That event raises a disturbing question often posed by reporters and supporters of the opposition: how bad must the system be, how strong must the influences of party politics and big businesses in Baden-Württemberg be that the people were not heard in 2007 despite the names of 67,000 people? Well, what I perceive the answer to be is not nearly as exciting as the lead-in. Stuttgart is a city of 600,000 people. A petition with 67,000 signatures is 11% of the population – hardly enough to be influential. Two surveys taken in the last two years suggest that the citizens’ opinions on this matter are currently split pretty close down the middle. Despite all the negative hype, thousands of citizens want the Stuttgart 21 project to happen, and while the opposition was treated unfairly in 2007 when the government negotiated with the rail companies behind closed doors, there really was no reason to stop all negotiations on account of what appeared to be an 11% opposition. A petition of that size indicates that had the document’s request been honored, Stuttgart 21 would have been approved anyway.

So it is the act of ignoring a petition that outrages them so much. It’s not all about money or space or preservation of historical sites; it’s the principle of the thing, the belief that their right to be represented was denied by the politicians they elected.

Here’s a question for you: should the government have accepted the petition even though it was signed by only 11% of the population, an indicator that a popular vote would have almost certainly ended in the approval of the station? Or did they, as elected representatives, have the right to ignore what was at that time a minority and decide what was best for the city?

Post your thoughts in the comments.

-Jared