Berlin blooms, German DOGE, golden handshakes

Dear Reader,

Reaching the second half of April in Berlin feels like the conclusion of an classical epic. After months of struggling through darkness and doubt—by February, you’ve started to question your own sanity—you emerge at last on the banks of Elysium.

A grey, lifeless city - its concrete façade seemingly impervious to joy - explodes with colour. Where the occasional haunted figure hurried through deserted streets, music and merriment drift through the air.

We have almost half a million street trees to thank for this miraculous transformation. In Berlin, almost every street is an allée with trees flanking either side. The transformation is so sudden, it always takes you by surprise. Within the space of a couple of days, the city is transformed from grey to green.

Munich might have the country’s best park, Frankfurt its biggest inner-city forest, but I'd wager that no city spreads its summer canopy as broadly as Berlin.

My neighbourhood is lined with chestnut trees, which blossom in purple and white. Its streets are so densely planted, one has the sensation of wandering through a city recaptured by nature.

Interestingly, Berlin’s tree population has only recently recovered to its pre-war levels. Trees, like people, fell victim to the bombs of World War Two. Replenishing them took decades.

To me, this urban garden looks vibrant and healthy. But, in recent years a movement has emerged that warns that street trees are dying off due to climate change. An organisation called Gieß den Kiez (water your neighbourhood) encourages people to “adopt a sick tree.” Eager helpers can be seen in summer watering oaks and linden to ensure that they survive the dry Prussian summer.

I always thought trees drew their moisture from the groundwater. In a city whose name is derived from an old Slavic word for “swamp,” that shouldn’t be a problem. Still, I understand the anxiety. Without its green canopy, Berlin would feel like an epic without an ending.