We have all read in history books about the momentous day the Berlin Wall fell, and how East and West Germany merged into a unified nation. Initially, there was euphoria; people had fought desperately for this moment. Yet, as history later revealed, the initial wave of happiness eventually gave way to complex regrets.
When two worlds merge—even those sharing the same land and heritage—they are suddenly forced to confront deep economic, political, and cultural divides. At first, the excitement of change masks these fractures. But once the novelty wears off, a competitive game of "show me yours, and I'll show you mine" begins. Both sides face off, trying to prove they were the "better half," while insisting that every new problem is entirely the other side’s fault.
I don’t mean to dwell purely on the history of Berlin. Rather, I want to highlight a frustrating phenomenon that I, as an immigrant, have faced for decades.I noticed anywhere I work, go, or do, if I point out an issue, those who caused the problem immediately try to turn the tables and blame immigrants, and even announce it in my face: "they are yours, or it is you." Yet, anything professional, ethical, appropriate, and efficient happening, they immediately take credit for it as a "they are ours, it is me" scenario.
It is clear many who originally championed "breaking the wall" now secretly regret the realities of integration. They want to fiercely protect their old cultural bubbles and maintain their previous financial status, all while exploiting their new political rights to control the narrative. They want the benefits of a borderless world, but refuse the shared accountability that comes with it.
Looking back, perhaps the wall should never have been broken in that manner. It might have been better to leave the boundaries intact, giving everyone a clear, permanent choice: stay on your side, or stay on mine. Because when you tear down a wall without opening your mind, you simply build a new, invisible barrier made of scapegoating and resentment.