Violence in the outdoor pool: summer, sun, broken nose

Anyone who goes to the summer pool in Neukölln at ten in the morning on a working day in August could mistake it for an ordinary outdoor pool. It’s scorching hot but calm as the retirees swim their last laps before climbing out of the 50-metre pool, dripping. They waddle through the sun to the locker rooms, where their belongings await in worn, coin-operated lockers. The old go before the young come. Understandable.

The summer swimming pool in the Neukölln district always makes headlines, and it’s not alone in the German capital. At the end of July, a water gun in the Bad am Insulaner in the Steglitz district triggered a fight involving around a hundred participants. Cell phone videos showed young men in swimming trunks yelling and beating. Knives were drawn, there were injuries, and in the end the police had to arrive with 13 vehicles. A few days later, a woman’s nose was broken in the Neukölln summer pool. Here, too, it is said to have started with a harmless splash of water.

According to the police chief of the capital, Barbara Slowik, the brawls in the outdoor pools have reached a “new quality”. What that means could also be observed in Neukölln in July. In the end, the security staff at the summer pool had to save themselves from guests who were armed with batons and tear gas in the lifeguard tower. They only dared to go out again when the police were there.

How bad is the situation really? We dare to go in on the second hottest day of the year so far.

For 5.50 euros and after a waiting time of almost half an hour, you get to the ticket office, and behind the revolving door the world of the Neukölln summer pool awaits. Above all, it is loud. Those who come when the pensioners have already left must be able to endure a constant noise level at the level of an unsupervised classroom.

“There were no machetes”

A lifeguard in his early 30s smokes a cigarette before his shift. The excitement was exaggerated, he says. Violence is everywhere in Berlin. He wears a gold chain over his red tank shirt and has tattoos on his upper arms. And the recent major police operation? The press didn’t describe everything correctly, criticizes the lifeguard, who claims to have lived in Neukölln his whole life: “There weren’t machetes, but pepper spray.” His job is to arbitrate in the event of a dispute, and he is also a kind of therapist. “Hello Costa!” the lifeguard greets a regular guest before making his rounds around the pool.

As a woman, you can feel safe in the summer swimming pool in Neukölln, the warden says. At least that’s true on this day. It doesn’t matter whether it’s on the meadows, in front of the snack bar or on the slide: I can move about anywhere without being bothered – which of course could also be due to the sixteen security men who patrol here alongside the six lifeguards. Or at the police unit from the entrance.

From time to time you see how the security men intervene. Then they argue with the guests, prevent a quarrel from escalating, ask not to put towels where it is forbidden. In the past, 15,000 people were allowed to go to the bathroom, but today only half are allowed in, also because of the violence.

Two police officers roam the grounds of the outdoor pool. “It used to be worse,” says the older of the two officers, “since the lifeguards tried to fix it themselves.” He speaks of a violent migrant milieu that reacts in the baths. “Some of them go crazy in the heat,” he says. “Too much testosterone.”

The keyword testosterone is often mentioned on this day, in conversations with the police and lifeguards. And it’s always about young men with an immigrant background. In Neukölln, almost every second resident has a migration background. Other major German cities have also experienced a similar demographic change, and there too many outdoor pools are now social hotspots, even crime scenes. That was not always so.

The whistle used to be enough

For decades, since the 1950s, Germany’s municipal outdoor pools have been social meeting places in the best sense of the word. With the valuables in the locker, the guests also gave their social status. Everyone was equal in the wet nylon. A basic requirement for this was a sense of security; Disputes were solved by the lifeguards with the whistle. Today the President of the German Association of Lifeguards, Peter Harzheim, says he would no longer go to the outdoor pool with his three grandchildren.

On a sunbathing lawn in the summer swimming pool in Neukölln, the heat is to some extent bearable thanks to the shady trees, and young families also lounge here. Two mothers have found their place under an oak tree, unpack biscuits, take care of the little ones while the older children go to the water.

Are women not afraid that something will happen to their children? “No,” replies one. She comes from the comparatively cozy district of Köpenick in the south-east of the city. “They sort it out among themselves,” says the mother, meaning the boys and young men with a migration background. She also mentions the clans that are said to set the tone in parts of Neukölln. “I told my daughter to be careful who she splashes with the water gun,” says the other mother.

Segregation on the lawn

In English there is the term “melting pot”. It should come about when the lifestyles and values ​​of different nationalities mix in a country of immigration and produce a new culture.

On closer inspection, Sommerbad Neukölln is not a melting pot. As if separated by invisible lines, the guests whose families come from Turkey, Lebanon or Syria are in different places than the native Germans. A few meters in front of the 50-meter pool, for example, women in headscarves and fat men in undershirts occupy the green areas. They have set themselves up for the whole day, are sitting on camping chairs and are well equipped with snacks they have bought in advance. You don’t see any bathers without a migration background here.

Their territory is the rear lawn, where it is also much quieter. You can recognize them by their short bangs, the filigree black tattoos on their pale skin and the beer in their hands.

At 1 p.m. the pools are finally full. You can’t swim more than half a meter without ramming the next body. There is screaming and shoving. If you looked at the hustle and bustle from a bird’s eye view, it would probably look like a floating anthill. Older guests are almost no longer there.

“Yalla, let’s go!”

The word you hear the most is «Yalla!», the Turkish expression for «Go!». “Yalla, let’s go!” one girl says to the other to signal that she wants to get out of the pool. You see a lot of burkinis, also from well-known sports brands. For some women only hands, feet and face are visible, everything else is covered.

The large pool in the center of the outdoor pool is dominated by young men. With a roar, around two dozen of them jump into the water in a coordinated manner, over and over again, like synchronized swimmers, only much less gracefully. From time to time, the lifeguards pick out a particularly wild group member and admonish them to be more careful with moderate success.

Among the police officers guarding the entrance is a woman in her thirties. Her Berlin dialect is weak but audible. The fights are no worse than before, she says, only the media attention has increased. Even so, she would not visit the outdoor pool she guards as a guest. “Prinzbad, Inseler, Pankow, this . . . I don’t have to go there.” Why? Because of the many visitors who can’t behave themselves and don’t understand no, she says. The policewoman recommends the Weissensee lido in the north-east of the city. It’s full there too, but women don’t stare at you. There is “simply a different composition”.

In the last two hours before the summer pool closes, a few pensioners come back. Now that most of the boys are gone, they can swim their lengths again in the 50 meter pool. When you watch them, you might think you are in a normal outdoor pool.