I cried during the video. A strange move for me, to cry in public- and in school of all places. But that day I did shed a tear or two. The raw emotion of families touching the Berlin wall as it came down disrupted a teenage apathy I had come to admire, it erupted volcanic emotions from me, even in front of my peers. As strange as it may sound, it wasn’t the presence of the wall, nor the harm that it had caused that ignited my adverse reaction. It was the year. 1989 the year of my eldest sister’s birth, the year of the internet. As late as 1989 the German lives were fractured by intense political conflict solidified by a 3 metre wall.
And as with all past tragedies, their poignancy compels us to restate: “it should never happen again.” (Though history seems to ignore the realities of such atrocities in the West Bank).
So, it seems to be with great ignorance that less than 20 years later my unlearned foe Donald Trump is attempting to divide the US from Mexico.
Now I could go on, and type great theses on the insidious irony of Trump- a migrant to the US- seeking to exclude indigenous peoples from free movement in their own terrain. I could even adduce evidence to support my view that this jingoism is both illogical and menacing. But not today. Because today’s post is not a history lesson.
It is simply a grave realisation, that for Trump, the lessons of the past have not been learnt.