On February 24, the fourth anniversary of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, two actions took place in Berlin. The larger one, organized by Ukrainians, began in Lustgarten on Museum Island. Later, a Russian solidarity event in support of Ukraine was held at the Palace of Tears. A correspondent for Novaya Gazeta Europe attended both and noted how different their tones were.
The Ukrainian action was filled with chants and drumbeats, with participants carrying Ukrainian, EU, Georgian and white-red-white Belarusian flags. Posters called for support for prisoners of war, Ukraine and Europe. Sergei, who left Donetsk for Kyiv back in 2014, said the occupied territory had served Russia only as a bargaining chip and a springboard for further aggression. In his view, Ukrainians are paying for Europe’s fear of escalation not with money, but with human lives.
People in the march spoke about grief, fatigue and the wish to return home. Vera from Kyiv said her city is shelled every day and that she wants to go back once the war ends. Her friend added that she would return even sooner to help rebuild the country. Dmitry, a Belarusian who left his country after an arrest in 2020, spoke of shame, mourning and solidarity with Ukrainians. German participants who attend these rallies every year said they were struck by how the crowd keeps getting smaller.
The procession moved through the city center toward the area near the Russian embassy. Ukrainian, Russian, German and English slogans could be heard in the crowd. Natalia, who has lived in Germany for more than 33 years, called the date a dividing line between life before and after the war. Yosya from St. Petersburg, now studying in Germany, said she came because she cannot join such a protest at home and admitted that even in Berlin she still fears harassment and provocations.
The Russian action at the Palace of Tears, a former checkpoint between East and West Berlin, began two hours after the Ukrainian march. Unlike the procession, it was almost silent: people listened to speeches and held memorial candles. One of the organizers, former political prisoner Andrei Pivovarov, said from the stage that the most important thing that day was to mourn the dead and all those who had lost relatives, homes and their normal lives, and that the war started by Vladimir Putin and his entourage would weigh heavily on everyone.
“Probably the most important thing we can do is express grief. We cannot come to terms with what is happening, with people being killed,” Andrei Pivovarov said.
Those attending the Russian gathering spoke about fear, shame, guilt and the impossibility of getting used to a war that continues every day. Alyona from St. Petersburg described attending as the minimum she could do. Yekaterina from Donetsk, who left in 2019, said that for her February 24, 2022 was a continuation of the chaos her region had already lived through; she chose not to join the large Ukrainian march because some of its slogans felt painful to her in light of that experience. Pivovarov said the quiet memorial format had been chosen deliberately and coordinated in advance with the Ukrainian diaspora so as not to interfere with the main march.
By the end of the evening, participants from both events were mingling at Friedrichstraße station. There, amid ordinary city life, conversations about prisoners of war, the war itself and mutual grievances continued beyond the stage and the marching columns.