Authors:
- Margherita Gobbo - Senior Researcher Mondo Internazionale G.E.O. Cultura & Società
- Marco Rizzi - Senior Researcher Mondo Internazionale G.E.O. Cultura & Società
- Marta Thorbjornsen - Senior Researcher Mondo Internazionale G.E.O. Cultura & Società
Section II: Politics of Techno in the Present
Berghain: emergence and evolution as a Cultural Institution
Founded in 2004 by Norbert Thormann and Michael Teufele, Berghain emerged from the legacy of Ostgut, a smaller club that Thormann and Teufele had run from 1998 to 2003. When Ostgut closed, they sought a larger venue that could accommodate a more ambitious vision for electronic music, nightlife, and community. They found the perfect location in a former East German power plant situated on the boundary between Kreuzberg and Friedrichshain, two neighborhoods symbolically uniting Berlin’s divided past (Gray Area, 2021). Berghain’s name itself reflects this convergence, derived from Berg (Kreuzberg) and Hain (Friedrichshain), emphasizing the symbolic merging of East and West. The building’s architecture, characterized by towering ceilings, open concrete spaces, and a sense of raw industrial permanence, became integral to Berghain’s identity. This aesthetic choice intentionally preserved the stark, unrefined atmosphere of the power plant, creating an immersive environment where visitors could lose themselves in the music and disconnect from the outside world. The club’s founders deliberately kept lighting to a minimum and designed the space to focus attention on the sound, aided by a custom-built Funktion-One sound system renowned for its clarity and power. These design choices reflected a “brutalist minimalism,” where function followed form, echoing Berlin’s industrial past and the experimental ethos of techno itself (Gray Area, 2021).
Musically, Berghain distinguished itself by fostering a culture of uncompromising techno. Resident DJs such as Marcel Dettmann, Ben Klock, and Len Faki curated sets that embodied the Berlin sound, a dark, hypnotic, and intense style of techno, which for instance, strongly differs from the pop-techno scene associated with the Love Parade, earlier described. Berghain’s musical programming, coupled with its spatial design, created a unique sensory environment where attendees could experience techno in its purest form (DJ Mag, 2016). This dedication to quality and integrity quickly attracted both local and international recognition, establishing Berghain as a pilgrimage site for electronic music enthusiasts. However, as Tresor in the post-wall era, Berghain was more than a club; it was a place for community, self-expression, and social resistance. Adopting a strict yet inclusive door policy, the club became known for creating a “temporary autonomous zone” where attendees could shed social identities and participate freely in Berlin’s underground culture (Resident Advisor, 2021). This policy was overseen by figures like Sven Marquardt, a bouncer and artist whose visually striking presence became symbolic of the club’s ethos. Marquardt’s selective approach emphasized diversity and respect, ensuring an environment that was open to all yet protected against voyeurism or unwanted attention, thus preserving the authenticity and freedom that defined Berghain’s early years (artnet News, 2016). In these early years, Berghain also played a central role in Berlin’s post-reunification identity. The club's existence in a former industrial space repurposed for art and community resonated with the spirit of Berlin’s creative rebirth, as the city transformed abandoned buildings into sites of artistic expression. This transformation paralleled the city’s social evolution, as Berlin emerged as a sanctuary for marginalized communities, subcultures, and avant-garde artists. Berghain became a microcosm of Berlin’s post-industrial, post-reunification ethos, serving as a testament to the potential for spaces to embody freedom and unity while offering a platform for self-expression outside mainstream cultural and commercial forces (Gray Area, 2021).
By 2016, Berghain had cemented its status as a premier techno club but also as a cultural beacon in Berlin, laying the groundwork for its eventual recognition as a cultural institution. Its early years laid a solid foundation in which the values of inclusivity, resistance, and artistic integrity were paramount, and these principles would continue to shape the club’s identity as it transitioned into a recognized cultural entity (artnet News, 2016).
Indeed, in 2016, Berghain reached a pivotal moment in its evolution when it was granted official recognition as a cultural institution by German tax authorities. This shift marked the culmination of years during which the club had built its reputation as more than just a nightlife destination. In granting Berghain cultural status, the German court acknowledged the club’s role in Berlin’s unique cultural landscape, elevating it to the same level as theaters, museums, and other publicly esteemed institutions (artnet News, 2016). This recognition underscored a broader transformation within Berlin, where techno music and nightlife had become essential parts of the city’s identity, merging the rebellious spirit of subculture with the prestige of high art.
The decision to grant Berghain cultural status represented a significant redefinition of what could be considered “art” in contemporary society. Traditionally, cultural institutions are seen as places where society preserves and venerates its highest achievements in art, history, and human expression. Berghain’s institutional recognition challenged these assumptions by asserting that spaces devoted to electronic music, community-building, and even self-expression through nightlife could have the same cultural weight (Montague, 2018). This legal acknowledgment of Berghain’s artistic and social contributions recontextualized techno from mere entertainment to a form of “higher art,” where the club became a crucible of experimentation, identity, and communal experience (DJ Mag, 2016).
Furthermore, Berghain’s architectural presence only solidified its cultural credentials. The space is known for its brutalist aesthetic, minimal lighting, and formidable door policy, creating an experience that stands apart from conventional clubbing. Inside Berghain, attendees encounter not just music, but a carefully curated environment that fosters freedom from social norms and constructs a temporary community where music and movement serve as primary forms of communication. This setting resonates with the city’s post-reunification spirit, where former industrial spaces became canvases for new forms of cultural expression (Gray Area, 2021; Resident Advisor, 2021).
From an operational standpoint, Berghain’s recognition as a cultural institution provided substantial financial relief through tax breaks traditionally reserved for the arts, which allowed the club to prioritize creative integrity over profit. Freed from the pressure to generate revenue at all costs, Berghain was able to maintain a strict adherence to its original ethos: exclusivity, high-caliber programming, and an emphasis on artistic rather than commercial value (artnet News, 2016). This protection enabled Berghain to sidestep the commercial forces reshaping much of Berlin, where gentrification has forced many alternative spaces to close or compromise their values. By reducing the financial pressures imposed by standard entertainment taxes, the court ruling effectively protected Berghain’s ability to serve as an oasis for alternative culture and foster artistic innovation. The operational freedom gained through its cultural institution status enabled Berghain to host more diverse and ambitious programming, expanding beyond electronic music into interdisciplinary art projects and installations. Increasingly, the club became a site for collaboration with visual artists and international art festivals, blurring the lines between Berlin’s nightlife and its high culture. (Resident Advisor, 2021; Montague, 2018).
Berghain’s transition into a recognized cultural institution underscored its vital social function as a safe haven for marginalized communities. For years, Berghain had cultivated a space where individuals, especially LGBTQ+ individuals, artists, and those seeking liberation from societal expectations, could express themselves freely. By acknowledging the club’s contribution to Berlin’s social landscape, the cultural status legitimized the significance of these “safe spaces” as more than transient or superficial, but rather as essential parts of urban culture. As such, Berghain’s success reflects a larger trend in urban centers worldwide, where nightlife spaces have evolved from mere social hubs to critical platforms for community-building, identity exploration, and resistance against mainstream social norms (Rapp, 2010).
However, this institutional recognition brought challenges as well. Some cultural critics warned that the integration of Berlin’s counterculture into institutional frameworks risks diluting its subversive appeal, potentially inviting gentrifying forces or eroding the authentic underground essence that makes spaces like Berghain so valued. The challenge for Berghain has been to navigate this recognition without compromising its core values of exclusivity, experimentation, and inclusivity. As such, the club’s management continued to uphold its strict door policy and non-commercial approach, preserving Berghain as an inclusive but highly curated space where artistic freedom thrives without external pressures (Gray Area, 2021).
Berghain’s status as a cultural institution provided a blueprint for rethinking the role of nightlife in urban culture. By achieving a balance between subcultural authenticity and institutional recognition, Berghain sustained its legacy and challenged traditional hierarchies of art and cultural value. It set a precedent that showed other cities and governments how to protect nightlife as part of the cultural ecosystem. The transformation of Berghain and other clubs into cultural landmarks underscored Berlin’s status as a city where spaces of freedom, creativity, and expression are essential to the urban experience (Resident Advisor, 2021, Montague, 2018).
Berghain’s influence extends beyond the realms of music and nightlife, positioning it as a focal point for broader social and political debates within Berlin. As a venue that champions inclusivity, freedom of expression, and subcultural authenticity, Berghain often finds itself at the center of discussions on the role of cultural spaces in reflecting and shaping political discourse. A notable example occurred in January 2024, when Berghain reportedly canceled a performance by artist Arabian Panther due to their pro-Palestinian stance, sparking intense debate about censorship, artistic freedom, and the boundaries of political expression in cultural institutions (The Berliner, 2024). This incident amplified questions about the responsibilities of cultural spaces in either maintaining neutrality or taking a stance on politically sensitive issues. For many, this raised a critical question: should venues like Berghain actively engage in political debates, or should they remain spaces solely for artistic expression? This dilemma reflects a broader struggle that cultural institutions face in a polarized world, where audiences often expect venues to align with or reject certain political ideologies. Berghain’s response illustrates the delicate balance required in hosting politically diverse voices without alienating parts of its community. The incident has led to deeper discussions on the need for transparency in curatorial decisions and whether cultural institutions can maintain neutrality without compromising their role as spaces for open expression (The Berliner, 2024).
Additionally, Berghain’s infamous door policy has long been a subject of contention. The club’s strict entry criteria are viewed by many as necessary for preserving the unique, inclusive environment within. Yet, others argue that this selectivity reflects broader social issues around class, privilege, and exclusivity (Berliner Gazette, 2018). Berghain’s door policy raises fundamental questions about access to cultural spaces: Is exclusivity a tool to preserve authenticity and safety, or does it perpetuate elitism within alternative culture? In defending its selective entry, Berghain suggests that the integrity of a space can sometimes require controlled access to protect the intended atmosphere and community standards. This selective policy, while often criticized, highlights the ways in which cultural venues navigate inclusion and autonomy, ultimately questioning how “open” truly inclusive spaces should be.
Political Controversies in the Contemporary Techno Scene
Berghain’s evolution into a recognized cultural institution introduced complex expectations, positioning it as a participant in Berlin’s political discourse. This shift underscores a deeper tension: can such spaces maintain neutrality while embodying Berlin’s progressive ideals, especially amid politically charged issues like the Israel-Palestine conflict? The following pages will explore how Berlin’s cultural venues now face the challenge of balancing inclusivity with the demands of an increasingly politicized public.
The club's new status as cultural institutions brings with it both a political voice and a greater moral responsibility. The city’s artistic venues are now under the spotlight in regards to the political positions of the artists they book. When it comes to high-tension political issues, younger generations continue to view these institutions as both a safe space and a form of validation for their own political opinions - ‘are you on our side?’. This year, an invisible wall emerged once again in the city of Berlin, surrounding these very own institutions. While some have faced cuts to their funding, others are being noted for their perceived silence on key political matters (The Berliner, 2024).
Louna Sbou, the curator and director of Oyoun, a culture and art center in Berlin, organized an event last November to mark the 20th anniversary of Jewish Voice for Peace, a group that critiques Israeli government’s for their zionist policies. Following the attacks on October 7 in Israel, Oyoun chose to transform the event into a vigil, inspired by the jewish ritual known as ‘shiva’. The cultural center was then advised by Berlin’s Senate to cancel the gathering, citing concerns of “hidden antisemitism” (Faber, 2024). Oyoun still hosted the event, that brought together Jews, Palestinians, Israelis and Germans. However, less than three weeks after the vigil, the center was informed that its annual state funding of 1 million euros would be cut (Böger, 2023). Sbou believes this decision was a warning to other cultural institutions that might offer a perspective on Gaza that challenges Germany’s consistent support for Israel. “This is a German phenomenon, in the arts and culture world, you either show explicit, unreserved solidarity for the Israeli State - not necessarily for the Jewish life, but for the State - or you stay silent. These are the only two options.” the director adds (Faber, 2024).
The massacre in Gaza has cast a shadow of political tension not only in the Bundestag and in the art scene but also inside everyone’s favorite clubs. What began as whispers in the club bathrooms —“I hear they’re rejecting Palestine activists”, “You can’t get in if you’re wearing a keffiyeh”— soon escalated into protests. A movement called Ravers for Palestine emerged, calling for a boycott of several clubs in Berlin, including Berghain, for remaining silent on Israel’s actions in Gaza. It is worth noting that since its opening in 1992, the club’s owners, Michael Teufele and Norbert Thormann, have rarely made public statements on political issues. Nevertheless, the boycott gained some popularity, drawing support from various DJ’s and labels around the world, including Manuka Honey and the renowned electronic music label, Pan (Tapper & Rodney, 2024).
Berghain’s reputation has been increasingly called into question this past year, a sentiment expressed by several guests who noted that one of the club’s bouncers was wearing a “Bring Them Home” dog tag, inscribed in both English and Hebrew. What is particularly striking is the clear contradiction in the club’s operation: while keffiyeh are regarded as political symbols and individuals wearing them are denied entry, the bouncer was openly displaying a political statement. This leaves a conflicting - or perhaps clear - message to Berghain’s raver community on the club’s stance on political expression regarding Israel and Palestine.
On January 12, Berghain was accused of canceling the performance of the french-lebanese DJ, Arabian Panther, due to his pro-Palestinian stance. The club attributed the cancellation to “unforeseen construction work”, despite continuing its operations normally on the following days (Faber, 2024). Kendal, the manager of the label responsible for the event, corroborated the DJ’s account, revealing that Berghain’s head booker, Tim Rosenberger, had informed him that the cancellation was linked to the artist’s social media posts. Arabian Panther had been booked for the event five months in advance (LeJarde, 2024).
“In the electronic music scene, many topics are open for discussion - racism, sexism, Black Lives Matter, LGBTQ+ rights - but Palestine remains off-limits. It’s a unique restriction within Berlin’s culture of free expression” stated the DJ (Faber, 2024). Arabian Panther tried to contact Berghain several times to discuss the issue directly, the club however never engaged in any type of explanation, publicly or privately, and his performance was never rescheduled (LeJarde, 2024).
This is not the first time Berlin clubs have faced accusations of restricting musicians and artists over their support for pro-Palestinian causes. Since 2020, he club ://about blank has been under scrutiny after canceling an event hosted by a music collective that refused to retract its support for the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement (Gjevori, 2024). This movement was a global campaign launched in 2005 seeking to pressure Israel to end its occupation of Palestinian territories. However, a significant portion of the German population perceives this campaign as antisemitic, which has led to tensions and controversies within the city’s infrastructures (Palestine Solidarity Campaign).
In 2021, ://about blank faced further criticism when the popular event series Buttons announced it would end its partnership with the club, citting the latter’s pro-Israel stance. Buttons also accused the club of mistreating Palestinians, DJs and collectives of color. This statement was part of a broader movement, with Buttons joining other collectives such as Gegen, Room 4 Resistance, Lecken and Cocktail d’Amore, in launching Berlin Nightlife Workers Against Apartheid, a campaign aimed at drawing attention to Germany’s role in the systemic oppression of Palestinian people (Gjevori, 2024).
The club’s association with the Antideutsche political group has also been a source of criticism. This group, which dates back to the nineties, opposes fascism and identifies with communism, while simultaneously expressing wavering support for the State of Israel. From their perspective, the essence of anti-fascism is to stand with Israel, the only nation established after the Second World War. As such, they argue that all Germans must demonstrate absolute solidarity with Israel. While the Antideutsche group has often been ridiculed by the media and the public, their views have provoked a reexamination of the assumption that leftist values automatically align with support for the Palestinian cause (Zürcher & Flakin, 2024).
Statements from ://aboutblank, both on their social media and their website, have explicitly acknowledged the presence of Antideutsche members within their management, sparking further backlash within the raver community. It’s interesting to note that, particularly in comparison to other Berlin clubs, ://aboutblank has been uniquely vocal about its political views. The club has published statements on the matter, it has dedicated a FAQ section on its political stance, and even organized panels and debates addressing topics such as antisemitism, boycotts and club culture. This engagement with civil society, although subject to criticism, cannot be noted in other famous venues in the city.
Over the past year, artists who have publicly expressed support for Palestine have faced cancellations and been silenced, with invitations to perform or exhibit being rescinded. The state provides significant support to Berlin’s nightlife sector, recognizing clubbing as a cultural asset on par with opera or theater. Many artists, financially reliant on this support, are refraining from making political statements to safeguard their income, with some even fearing the loss of their residency in Germany. Although the club scene and creative communities tend to lean left and often express their solidarity with Palestine, Germany stands out. The club venues that once offered refuge for marginalized communities and space for radical ideas appear, for the most part, to be disconnected from the support for the Palestinian cause (Faber, 2024).
Following a critical overview of the recent political controversies that have been arising in Berlin’s club&art scene, this November 9th, coinciding with the anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, the German Bundestag is set to vote on the ratification of the final draft of a new antisemitism resolution titled “Never Again is Now: Protecting, Preserving and Strengthening Jewish Life in Germany” (Ertel, 2024). This resolution adheres to the controversial definition of antisemitism proposed by the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA). A key element of this resolution is the requirement for federal, state and municipal authorities to evaluate artistic and scientific projects for “potential anti-semitic narratives” before allocating fundings and general support. The IHRA definition of antisemitism has been subject to complex controversies, as its interpretation extends to encompass various forms of opposition to the State of Israel, equating all criticism of the Israeli government and its war politics with antisemitism itself (Mann & Yona, 2024).
Furthermore, this resolution is expected to officially criminalize the BDS movement and introduce significant limitations on academic freedom, particularly regarding open debates on Israel-Palestine. Critics argue that this proposal fails to account for the pluralism within Jewish communities, as it conflates Jewish identity with the policies of the Israeli state, highlighting the urgent need for a clear separation of state and religion (DiEM25, 2024). This concern was raised when the first draft of the resolution was made public in the summer, with various Jewish groups and civil society members arguing that opposing Israeli state actions and supporting Palestinian rights are integral to their Jewish values, and create a limited singular vision of Jewish political expression in German cultural and academic spaces (Mann & Yona, 2024).
Moreover, the resolution poses significant threats to freedom of speech and the right to oppose government policies. An illustrative example of the divisions this resolution could exacerbate emerged during this year’s Berlinale, when the documentary No Other Land, co-directed by Israeli filmmaker Yuval Abraham and Palestinian filmmaker Basel Adra, was presented. During his speech, Abraham told the audience “in two days [Basel and I] will go back to a land where we are not equal. I live under civilian law and Basil lives under military law. We live thirty minutes from one another.". The following day, his remarks were labeled as antisemitic by the Mayor of Berlin and by the Senator for Cultural Affairs, underscoring the growing tension between artistic expression and political censorship in Germany (Ertel, 2024).
The proposed resolution on antisemitism marks a pivotal moment for Germany’s cultural and academic landscape. While it seeks to protect Jewish life and counter hate, its implications for freedom of expression –- particularly in the arts and academia— are particularly concerning. By linking Jewish identity too closely with the policies of the Israeli state, this resolution risks undermining the pluralism and diversity that has long been a hallmark of Berlin’s cultural spaces. The city’s club scene, once a space of inclusivity and freedom, where diverse political views could flourish, will be another victim of the effects of this political shift. Clubs which have long embraced leftist ideologies and provided a platform for marginalized communities, now find themselves navigating a tightening political landscape where artistic expression and political views are subject to severe investigation and scrutiny. The growing tension between political expression and institutional pressure in Berlin’s clubs reflects broader societal divisions, and the potential for artistic and cultural censorship to infiltrate these once untouchable spaces is casting a shadow over the city.
Conclusion:
The evolution of Berlin's techno scene, from its post-Wall emergence to its current status as a global cultural hub, illustrates the profound relationship between music, politics, and social transformation. In the 1990s, techno served not just as a musical genre, but as a political and cultural tool, acting as a unifying force in a city rebuilding itself after decades of ideological separation. The techno community’s embrace of freedom, inclusivity, and anti-establishment ideals, expressed through iconic venues like Tresor and cultural phenomena like the Love Parade, helped forge a collective identity that transcended the divisions between West and East Berlin. The techno scene at this time was thus a political act in itself, with its emphasis on collective freedom, artistic experimentation, and community building. The story of Berlin's techno culture is not just the history of a music genre but of a city—and a generation—that danced through the chaos of political change to create something both revolutionary and enduring.
While the commercialization of the Love Parade in the mid-90s marked a shift away from its radical, underground origins, it continued to highlight the role of techno in reshaping Germany’s image around the globe —turning it into a symbol of openness and international connection. Similarly, Tresor’s emergence as Berlin's first dedicated techno club in East Berlin embodied the city’s transformation, providing a space where the ideological ruptures of the past were replaced by a new shared experience of unity and freedom. Both the Love Parade and Tresor reflected Berlin’s embrace of radical cultural expression in the post-Wall era, marking the city as the epicenter of the global techno movement.
As the techno scene evolved, it also faced the challenges of commercialization and institutionalization. This shift became particularly apparent in the 2000s with the rise of Berghain, a club that began as a sanctuary for radical self-expression but is now navigating tensions between its anti-authoritarian roots and the growing pressure of the current political context. In the face of controversies surrounding political stances and shifting cultural norms, Berghain represents the broader dilemma facing Berlin's nightlife today: how can cultural institutions maintain their subversive, inclusive ethos while adapting to an increasingly polarized and politically charged environment?
The shift in Berlin’s club scene from entertainment centers to recognized cultural institutions has brought new challenges, as these venues now have to answer to political demands, intensifying tensions between artistic freedom and political constraints. The ongoing Israel-Palestine conflict will continue to divide the city, and Berlin’s club and art communities are unlikely to ignore the politically controversial actions of their favorite venues. With the adoption of the new resolution, the institutional silence and monopolized opinions on the current political tensions will deepen, as these venues now risk losing funding or even residency if their solidarity for Palestinian lives is perceived as anti-semetic by the State. Ultimately, the enduring power of Berlin’s techno scene lies not only in its ability to react and adapt to shifting political landscapes but in its continued capacity to be a space where freedom, inclusivity, and community can thrive in the face of a, once again, divided world.
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