Three weeks after an Islamist attacker killed one woman and wounded dozens at a Berlin Pride march, tens of thousands returned to nearly the same ground — this time to dance, to mourn, and to insist that public joy is not a concession but a right. The Rave the Planet techno parade, held under the watch of 1,500 police officers and opened with a moment of collective silence, became something larger than a party: a reckoning with what open societies owe their most vulnerable members. German President Steinmeier gave the moment its philosophical weight, arguing that the freedom to love and to be
Berlin techno parade honors Pride attack victims under heightened security
An Islamist attacker killed one woman and injured at least 31 people during a Pride march on July 25, prompting heightened security at subsequent LGBTQ+ events.
Everyone must be able to follow their own path without fear, with pride
Mark
Why did they choose to hold the parade so close to where the attack happened? Wasn't that risky?
Mimi
It was risky, yes. But there's something in that choice—a refusal to cede the space. The attack happened in that neighborhood. To move the parade elsewhere would have meant the attacker had reshaped the city's geography of safety. Instead, they said: we gather here, we mourn here, we celebrate here.
Mark
The President's statement about self-determination and sexuality—that felt like it was addressing something deeper than just security, didn't it?
Mimi
It was. Steinmeier was saying that the right to be visible, to express love and identity publicly, is foundational to what an open society means. The attack wasn't random violence; it was targeted at people for who they are. His statement was a reassertion of what the society claims to stand for.
Mark
But 1,500 police officers, water cannons, closed streets—doesn't that change the nature of what a Pride celebration is supposed to be?
Mimi
Absolutely. There's a tension there that can't be resolved. You have the right to gather freely, but you need protection to do it safely. The security measures are necessary, but they also mark the presence of the threat. Everyone at that parade was aware of both things at once.
Mark
What about the smaller cities holding Pride events the same weekend? Were those also heavily secured?
Mimi
The source doesn't say. But the fact that they happened at all, in Darmstadt, Bayreuth, Krefeld, Münster—that matters. It suggests the community wasn't retreating to a single fortified location. They were dispersing, continuing, refusing to be silenced even if each gathering had to be more cautious than before.
Mark
Do you think this holds? Can a society maintain both openness and this level of security indefinitely?
Mimi
That's the question no one can answer yet. For now, they're trying. The parade happened. The moment of silence happened. People danced. But the water cannons were there, and the police were watching. Both things are true.
Il Polso
- A machete and a van turned a Pride march into a crime scene on July 25, killing one woman and injuring at least 31, and leaving Berlin's LGBTQ+ community in grief and fear.
- Rave the Planet, the first major public gathering since the attack, carried the weight of that wound into its opening silence — tens of thousands standing still before the music could begin.
- The state answered the threat with force: 1,500 officers, closed streets, halted trams, and water cannons repurposed to offer cooling mist in 37-degree heat along a route deliberately chosen to reclaim the site of violence.
- President Steinmeier framed the moment as a test of democratic principle, insisting that self-determination — in love, in body, in public expression — must be protected not merely tolerated.
- Across Germany, smaller Pride events in Darmstadt, Bayreuth, Krefeld, and Münster echoed the same quiet defiance: the community would remain visible, even as the cost of that visibility had changed.
Three weeks after an Islamist attacker killed one woman and wounded dozens at a Berlin Pride march, tens of thousands returned to nearly the same ground — this time to dance, to mourn, and to insist that public joy is not a concession but a right. The Rave the Planet techno parade, held under the watch of 1,500 police officers and opened with a moment of collective silence, became something larger than a party: a reckoning with what open societies owe their most vulnerable members. German President Steinmeier gave the moment its philosophical weight, arguing that the freedom to love and to be seen — not only in private, but in public — is among the most fundamental expressions of human dignity.
Berlin's Rave the Planet techno parade began on Saturday not with music, but with silence. Tens of thousands gathered near the Brandenburg Gate and paused — for the woman killed, for the 31 wounded — before the first beat dropped. It was the city's first major public celebration since July 25, when an Islamist attacker drove a van into a Pride march at nearly the same location, then attacked the crowd with a machete.
The organizers chose the motto "imagine love" and framed the event as a political demonstration as much as a party. A Christopher Street Day speaker urged the crowd to "be courageous" — a call that landed differently now, with grief still fresh. The parade moved deliberately between the Brandenburg Gate and the Victory Column, reclaiming the ground where the attack had occurred.
Security was overwhelming and visible. At least 1,500 officers were deployed, streets were sealed, trams rerouted. In 37-degree heat, police brought water cannons not as weapons but as relief, spraying cooling mist over the crowd. Organizers had registered 300,000 participants; police counted closer to 100,000.
Days before the parade, President Frank-Walter Steinmeier had published a pointed defense of LGBTQ+ rights, arguing that open societies must protect the freedom to express identity, love, and sexuality — "not only without fear, but also with pride; not only in private, but also in public." He called on the state to invest in law enforcement, safety, and education.
Elsewhere in Germany that weekend, smaller Pride events in Darmstadt, Bayreuth, Krefeld, and Münster offered quieter versions of the same insistence: the community would keep gathering, keep being seen. In Berlin, that visibility now came with a security apparatus that would have seemed extraordinary weeks before — raising a question the city had not yet answered: how long can a free society sustain celebration under these conditions, and what is lost in the trying.
Berlin's Rave the Planet techno parade opened on Saturday with silence. Tens of thousands of people gathered in the Tiergarten, near the Brandenburg Gate, and for a moment before the music started, there was quiet—a pause for the dead and wounded from three weeks earlier.
On July 25, an Islamist attacker drove a van into a crowd gathered for a Pride march at nearly the same spot. He then attacked people with a machete. One woman was killed. At least 31 others were injured, some seriously. The attack left the city's LGBTQ+ community shaken and afraid.
Rave the Planet, which bills itself as a political demonstration as much as a music event, was the first major party event in Berlin since that day. The organizers chose the motto "imagine love." A Christopher Street Day organizer who spoke at the event called on the crowd to "be courageous," especially now. The message was clear: the community would not retreat.
Security was everywhere. Police deployed at least 1,500 officers, supported by colleagues from the states of Brandenburg and Saxony-Anhalt. Streets were closed. Trams stopped running their normal routes. The parade ran along the main boulevard through the Tiergarten, between the Brandenburg Gate and the Victory Column—deliberately close to where the attack had occurred. Organizers had registered 300,000 participants, though police estimated the actual crowd at closer to 100,000. The heat was brutal, reaching 37 degrees Celsius. Police brought water cannons to spray cooling mist, and free drinking water was distributed along the route. The parade ran from early afternoon into the evening.
German President Frank-Walter Steinmeier had written about the attack days before the parade. In an article published online, he argued that an open society cannot tolerate violence against any group, and must especially protect the LGBTQ+ community. "Everyone has the right to self-determination," he wrote, "particularly where it concerns the very core of every human being—the expression of one's own personality, love and partnership, physicality and sexuality." He stressed that this right must be exercised "not only without fear, but also with pride; not only in private, but also in public." Steinmeier called on the state to prioritize law enforcement, public safety, and education.
While Berlin's parade proceeded under heavy security, smaller Pride events took place in other German cities that weekend—Darmstadt, Bayreuth, Krefeld, and Münster. Each was a small assertion that the community would continue to gather, to celebrate, to be visible. The parade in Berlin, with its thousands of police and closed streets, was a different kind of visibility: one purchased at the cost of security measures that would have seemed unthinkable weeks before. The question now was whether this balance—between the right to gather freely and the need to protect against violence—could be sustained.
Citazioni salienti
In an open society, everyone must be able to follow their own path without fear, with pride, not only in private but also in public.— German President Frank-Walter Steinmeier
Be courageous, especially now.— Christopher Street Day organizer speaking at Rave the Planet
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