October 7 in Berlin: Four Hours in a Police Kettle
On the second anniversary of the beginning of the genocide in Gaza, hundreds of people tried to demonstrate at Berlin’s Alexanderplat and were subject to extreme repression. A testimonial and a reflection about routine street protest.
Armored cops charged into the kettle, and our singing once again turned to horrified screaming and shouting. They smashed into the crowd, dealing out sharp blows to faces. In the retreat, we were squeezed against steel bike racks. My comrade Rosa* tripped and would have been crushed if I hadn’t pulled her up. Right in front of me, the cops wrested a young man from the group. He was hauled off with his arms twisted behind his back, a black glove covering his face. „Shame on you, shame on you,“ the crowd roared. „Stay calm and follow the officers‘ instructions,“ the police blared over the speakers.
We hadn’t planned on getting into the thick of it. But on October 7, 2025, the notoriously vicious Berlin cops outdid themselves, drawing even UN condemnation. This testimonial aims to document the heightened police repression of that day and my strategic reflections in the weeks after.
Militarized Mitte
Some new comrades and I aimed to witness the „Stop The Genocide“ rally at Alexanderplatz. Falling on the second anniversary of the beginning of the genocide in Gaza, it was expected to be particularly repressive. Sure enough, dozens of police vans and a water cannon truck occupied the Neptunbrunnen square by the TV tower. Endless barricades restricted movement to a couple of chokepoints — a concentration of forces akin to a G8 summit. Our group formed a perhaps naive plan to steer clear of the action and then headed towards Alexanderplatz, where the rally was supposed to occur at the World Clock.
On that day, the Berlin police had blanket-banned all pro-Palestinian protests with just a few hours notice. It’s a common tactic employed to repress Palestine solidarity, leaving organizers no time to challenge the bans through the courts. Meanwhile, the Brandenburg Gate was lit up with the Israeli flag and several other pro-Israeli vigils proceeded under police protection.
Alexanderplatz always has a no-fun-allowed vibe to me, but that day it was downright oppressive. Mingling among the tourists and commuters were many dozens of uniformed cops. Every access was guarded, ready to spring a trap. As we scouted the area, a roving patrol approached us, telling us in no uncertain terms that there would be no protest. We saw people with Brown skin or wearing a keffiyeh being told to leave the area, as straight-up racial or ethnic profiling.
By 18:30 there was indeed no sign of protest. We exited Alex and followed the expelled people towards Decathlon on Rathausstraße. Clusters of people were chanting „Viva, viva, Palästina!“ and other solidarity slogans in brave defiance of the ban.
Squads of cops in full riot gear were already moving in to harass and arrest people. The chants swept up and down the street, keeping the agents of repression on the backfoot.
Around 19:00, the police speaker van ordered everyone to vacate the area; anyone left would be considered part of an illegal assembly. Sticking to our plan, we backed off into the park while the singing on Rathausstraße swelled. While our comrade Finn posted updates of the unfolding police repression to Instagram, the loudspeaker again ordered the crowd to disperse. I suddenly noticed that the public lighting had been turned off.
Out of nowhere, a wide front of cops materialized behind us and rounded up everyone in the park towards the street. Those who tried to escape were thrown back: „Jetzt ist es zu spät!“ Too late. Hundreds of protesters, bystanders, and minors were herded into the pedestrian zone between Decathlon and the restaurant Cancun. Dispersal wasn’t the goal; this was pre-planned collective punishment.
Fish in a Barrel
Encircled by hundreds of cops, their vans inched closer, slowly tightening the kettle until several hundred people were contained to an area the size of two tennis courts. This was unprecedented. We could barely move, and didn’t feel safe anywhere. Over the speakers, the police told us that we were all detained, to remain calm and follow the officers‘ orders. They said they would be taking all our IDs. The crowd roared back: „Whose streets? Our streets!“
Spotlight towers blinded us and police cameras filmed us from all angles. A surveillance drone flew overhead. With assaults imminent, some people locked arms with each other, forming defensive circles within the kettle. But overall, the mass was fractured, putting everyone at higher risk.
Then, without warning or justification, armored cops would enter the kettle in a wedge formation and smash into the disorganized crowd. Another squad would attack from the side, creating chaos and confusion. With hard, repeated punches to faces and kicks to shins and groins, they would try to extract a random person with brutal force, eventually ripping them out and hauling them off in pain grips. The terror of being in such a claustrophobic situation doesn’t really come through on video footage.
Night came, and rain started to fall. Berlin cops did the dirty work, while troops from Niedersachsen guarded the perimeter. The police at one point shot pepper spray at the trapped crowd, incapacitating our comrade Rosa. In between assaults, far-right streamers were escorted into the kettle, further provoking and endangering the protesters. Some folks tried to talk their way out, but it was pointless, leading in some cases to avoidable violence and arrests.
Sometimes the cops singled out louder individuals for certain (legal) slogans, yet they also assaulted and arrested random minors, women, and elderly on the periphery. They punched parliamentarian Lea Reisner in the face, on video and without provocation, shattering the notion of parliamentary oversight. The message is painfully clear: nobody should feel safe protesting against the German Staatsräson (reason of state) and Zionism.
The treatment we endured was unlawful and inhumane not only because of the violence. Deprived of our liberty for over four hours — we saw no evidence the police were actually identifying and releasing people during this time — many people were on the verge of peeing themselves. Dozens needed medical attention for their injuries. Yet the police were extremely slow to provide the obligated toilets and medical services. Our comrade Rosa was told by the cops that she was „number 2 on the list“ to be evacuated, but she waited until the end like everyone else.
Remarkably, despite the harsh repression, the spirit of solidarity only rose in the kettle. The chants for Palestinian liberation never stopped. Snacks and water were shared around, and demo medics did their best to take care of the injured and distressed. People on the balconies of the surrounding high-rises cheered us on. Comrades awaited us outside and were on call if anything happened to us.
Unable to break the crowd’s spirit, the police withdrew around midnight. Cheering loudly, the crowd walked free. It felt like a tiny victory that day — though at a steep cost. Dozens of people were brutalized and arrested and likely face baseless charges, which the state and right-wing media use to justify the inevitable next round of repression. After the high wore off, we wondered what we had actually achieved.
Aftermath
Especially for new supporters, street demos are an obvious way to plug in and make a difference. Yet debriefing with more experienced comrades kicked off some sobering reflections. I can’t help but wonder: what perspective does street protest offer under these conditions?
The German public strongly opposes Israel’s genocidal campaign. Yet the genocide continues with the German state’s backing, despite massive marches backed by NGOs and reformist parties, along with regular, smaller rallies such as the one I’ve described here. Operating according to the imperatives of German capital, the bourgeois state ignores the people’s demands and suppresses dissent.
Taking stock of the fading student solidarity movement last year, the Marxist student group Waffen der Kritik identified two fatal tendencies at this juncture: retreat into routine protest and symbolic radicalism. Despite broad support in opinion polls, street protests remain small — no surprise given the intense repression.
Socialists call for expanding the fight from the street into workplaces, especially key sectors such as manufacturing and logistics. Workers keep the imperial war machine going — and can bring it to a grinding halt through strikes. Indeed, dock workers in Italy and the Spanish State in solidarity with Palestine were able to disrupt weapons shipments, something street protest alone has been unable to achieve. For activists, this means supporting strikes, encouraging worker self-organization, and pressuring trade union bureaucracies to take action. The Italian comrades in Genoa held another general strike on November 28/29 — when will Germany join in?
Following the so-called ceasefire of October 10, chancellor Merz stated that there’s “no more reason to protest for Palestinians.” Of course, we won’t stop; our protest will continue. A deadly “ceasefire” is not peace, and a colonial “peace” is not Palestinian liberation. For a free Palestine, we need to go from street protests to workplace organizing. That, for me, is the lesson from four hours in the kettle.
*Names changed.
