Rubén Díez García (Professor in the Department of Applied Sociology at the Complutense University of Madrid)
The Berlin Wall, built in 1961, was more than just a physical barrier: it was a symbol that separated two worlds and competing political ideologies. This ideological division also fuelled conflict within liberal democracies themselves. On the eastern side, the communist bloc, under the tutelage of the Soviet Union, controlled the political, economic, and social life of its societies. On the western side, liberal democracies defended their ideal of individual freedom and human rights. And I emphasise “ideal,” because it is no secret that democratic liberalism in practice is not exempt from risks, threats, and tensions.
Beyond separating two blocs during the Cold War, the wall also divided two different ways of legitimising power. Without delving into the limitations and the shadows and monsters of reason illuminated by modernity and capitalist development, the Berlin Wall encapsulated an oppressive reality for millions in the communist bloc. Its very existence reflected authoritarian control that restricted access to information, freedom of speech, and even collective expression, a key element in our democracies. The wall symbolised the state’s force to suppress the desire for personal autonomy beyond the collective, as well as the right to free movement. Over time, its meaning expanded: it ceased to be just a tangible border and became a symbol of the authoritarian system governing the Eastern bloc.
The yearning for freedom that drove the wall’s fall did not materialise overnight. During the 1950s and 1960s, Eastern European societies began to challenge communism through significant political opposition movements. In 1956, the Hungarian Revolution rose against the Soviet regime, only to be brutally crushed. In the context of the youth movements of the 1960s, the legendary Prague Spring of 1968 in Czechoslovakia attempted to free the country from Soviet control but was also suppressed by the Warsaw Pact. However, these movements, despite repression, grew over time, as seen with the opposition movements against the dictatorship in Spain.
These mobilisations reflected a major change in how conflicts were understood, as sociologist Ralf Dahrendorf had already identified by the late 1950s. The communist system of legitimacy and the conflict within liberal democracies found their roots in the unequal distribution of property. Yet, in advanced industrial societies, conflicts began to revolve around new demands, such as civil rights, feminism, systems of representation, human dignity, and personal self-realisation. Thus, struggles increasingly focused on the unequal distribution of authority, moving beyond the mere satisfaction of material needs to emphasise access to power, social recognition, and political participation.
This shift also reached Eastern Europe, where dissatisfaction with hierarchical and authoritarian structures merged with the desire for better material conditions. Ultimately, the fall of the wall symbolised the end of the Marxist view of conflict centred on material issues, replaced by a focus on the fight for freedom and the recognition of rights.
In the following decades, especially in the 1980s, social movements became more organised and forceful, not only in East Germany but also in other communist bloc countries like Poland, Hungary, and Czechoslovakia. In Poland, the Solidarity union, led by Lech Wałęsa, became a key example of resistance to the communist regime. Simultaneously, churches and civil organisations played crucial roles in channelling the aspirations for freedom that the state repressed.
This desire for freedom, fuelled by social imaginaries about life in the West and the ideas of democracy and human rights, intensified the craving for change. The reformist drive of Mikhail Gorbachev cannot be understood without acknowledging these aspirations. As communication with the outside world became more accessible, Eastern societies began to clearly see the freedoms they lacked. The fall of the Berlin Wall in November 1989 was a symbolic act that sealed the triumph of freedom over repression. Although it marked the collapse of a physical barrier, what truly crumbled was an ideological system that had lost its power legitimacy.
After the wall fell, Germany was reunified, and a euphoria for freedom spread throughout Eastern Europe. Yet, it also triggered brutal conflicts, such as those in the Balkans. Liberal democracy emerged as the triumphant model, and countries like Poland, Hungary, and Czechoslovakia embarked on transitions to democratic regimes and market economies. In Russia, the transition seemed possible for a while. The world celebrated the spread of democracy, hoping that the ideological barriers dividing nations for decades would vanish completely.
However, although communism fell, consolidating democracy proved more complex than expected. Not all countries succeeded in establishing strong democratic institutions and cultures. In Russia, the regression to authoritarianism was swift and now evident. Former Eastern bloc countries have struggled to sustain their fragile democracies in the face of corruption, economic crises, and the lack of a consolidated political culture. Despite the fall of the wall, the promise of liberal democracy was not uniformly fulfilled.
At the same time, in the 21st century, we have witnessed the resurgence of autocracies worldwide. Countries like China, Russia, Venezuela, and Iran have solidified authoritarian regimes that directly challenge the principles of freedom and democracy that seemed to have triumphed in 1989. Even in established democracies, new barriers have emerged, both physical and symbolic: populism, the erosion of the rule of law, and migration pressures threaten democratic stability. The current paradox is that, while liberal democracies are seen as beacons of freedom, they are also being tested by internal and external tensions.
The walls we face today are not always visible. Even though the Berlin Wall was brought down, challenges to freedom persist in new and complex ways. Its fall reminded us of something Alexis de Tocqueville had already warned: freedom is a continuous challenge, not a guaranteed achievement that can be maintained effortlessly, much like democracy. Democracies must adapt, drawing upon the principles of political liberalism that have guided the most successful ones for over 200 years. Only then can they face emerging threats and barriers in an increasingly polarised and divided world, a world that could not have been imagined on that November night in 1989, when we watched that wall of shame being demolished on television with hammers and picks.
Picture credits: by Mo Eid on Pexels.com.
