May 13, 2026

The Hunt Begins

The rain had finally let up, though the sky was still overcast. It was mid-May but Berlin had been cool all week and today was no exception: 13C/55F. I tugged the blue flatcap over head brow and tucked my hands into the pockets of my hoodie as I stepped outside and began the trek to my destination.

Potsdamer Platz is a transit hub here. I've passed by it every day for weeks on my way to Tiergarten for my daily constitutional - or, in more lay terms, my daily walk because my weight and blood pressure vying to see which can be higher. It's somewhere between my home in Kruezberg and Brandenburg Gate, a stone's throw from the American Embassy. Today, Potsdamer Platz is a bahnhof stop (Berlin's public metro system, here serving the U2 U-Bahn, the S-Bahn, and regional train lines), a plaza at the center of corporate life - including the DB building - and centered between two Malls, The Playce which touches it and the Mall of Berlin about a block away.

Historically, Potsdamer Platz goes back to the 17th century. In 1685 it was the location of the signing of the Tolerance Edict of Potsdam, allowing the settlement of religious refugees. By the early 20th century, Potsdamer Platz had become one of the busiest transit centers in Europe and a booming nightlife that made it the equal of Piccadilly Circus or Times Square. At the end of World War II, it had become a bustling black market, owing to how close it was to the border between East and West Berlin. In fact, the Berlin wall once ran through the middle of the Platz and even today tourists will stop to see the portion that was left as a memorial, snapping photos or reading the placards that discuss its post-war history. It might even be remembered for a certain concert staged by Roger Waters, former member of Pink Floyd.

None of this, however, was in my head as I shoved my growing anxiety down to the pit of my stomach. I have Chronic Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and my desire to be in crowds of people is, shall we say, nonexistent. Yet that was exactly what I was throwing myself into: a crowd. I had chosen Potsdamer because it was close enough to walk to on a regular basis, yes, but also because it held a necessary quality for my fledgling ethnographic observations.

Tension.

As an intersection of major roadways, of several train lines, and connected to shopping and corporate offices, Potsdamer Platz offered the most key ingredient for my field observations. It has enough people passing through that there is social interaction to observe.

The Hunter's Blind

I recall from my days hunting deer in the Appalachian mountains with my grandfather that blinds are used. These are platforms where a hunter can sit quietly, camouflaged from their surroundings, and wait patiently for their prey to approach. It's a concept that was even shown in Star Trek: Insurrection when the Federation was observing a pre-warp society and did not want to interfere.

It's the latter that is likely more akin to what I needed. The Federation's policies are grounded in actual scientific principles. The Hawthorn Effect, or sometimes called Observer Bias is the phenomena where people change their behaviors when they know they are being observed. In other words, if I wanted to watch people and see them react normally, they needed to not perceive me as an observer.

My solution?

I put on the best camouflage I could. I became just another white dude with a matcha latte seated at a coffee shop. I took my mug out to the patio, put my back against a column, and spent the next hour sipping slowly while glancing around and occasionally scribbling in my little notebook.

Rarely did anyone glance my way, and when they did their eyes slide right past without any true recognition.

I was relying on a concept that Erving Goffman calls civil inattention, the idea that when in urban life, you acknowledge those around you only inasmuch as is required. A glance, a nod. You move along. Whatever the others are doing is their business, not yours. In effect, everyone in a city is living under the Hawthorne Effect, and by taking a seat at the cafe, I was no more an entity to them than anyone else. My presence should not influence their behavior.

Like a Hawk

For the next hour, I observed and I noted.

15:30

Five polizei (police) vans were parked on the platz that I could see, tucked near one another. White, with their dark blue stripe down the center and yellow accents, the Mercedes vans are a common sight in the city. American as I am, I find the abundance of Mercedes and BMW vehicles around baffling. Five or so officers in their navy pants and thick coats, their black tactical vests, huddle in the middle of the vans, using the open doors to block the cold wind and provide themselves some shelter. They appeared to be chatting, nothing more. No signs of why so many police were gathered here. Was this a sign of visual authority? Policing by ambient presence?

There weren't a lot of people about. I could count maybe twenty at any given time, walking to the subway entrances or crossing to the far side. They all wore jackets or coats, zipped or buttoned. A few wore scarves. Occasionally someone had an umbrella. I would later note that if there were children involved, the presence of an umbrella was guaranteed.

An Asian male in his 20s was walking at the edge of the plaza, occasionally crossing the street towards me, bundled in a red coat. He wore the flag that advertised the Hop On/Hop Off bus, a bundle of pamphlets in one hand. He looked bored to me. There was no one to sell tickets to.

At the back of the plaza pigeons had gathered. A small flock undulated in their bobbing steps. Their grey and white feathers would have made them invisible against the overcast sky. There's a Five Guy's back there, and fallen french fries (pommes to the locals) and leftover bits of burgers no doubt make for good meals. A few smaller songbirds, brown with hints of black on the feathers, flittered closer to me. One alighted on the vacant wicker chair at my table. I seemed to be the only one who noted the avians.

I was drawn back to my fellow humans with a flash of pink hair. A woman walked buy in clothing that, while more casual than business, would not have been out of place in some offices I'd worked. Only the unnatural shade of hair stood out.

Here and there I caught sight of an obvious Muslim woman, her head wrapped in a scarf. Maybe every 15th person.

Plastic wheels scrape against the cobbles and bricks of the sidewalks. Roller luggage is common among those passing through. Hard shelled suitcases pulled by their telescoping handles are dragged behind their owners, almost always leading to or from the subway entrances and rarely just passing through.

I note the boots on the feet of many of the pedestrians. Often thick soled, usually laced up. Many have a combat boot aesthetic, owing either to Berlin's deep punk scene roots or some fashion trend.

Trending, too, are backpacks. By far the most common form of bag carried through the area, backpacks have become the domain of not just the school children but the business folk, the regular person. Here, 80% of them are of the same type: Taller than they are wide, closed at the top via rolling and then straps, waxed canvas. They look more suited to hiking than this urban jungle.

Some kind of sporty, two-door, blue car rumbles up to the intersection, seeking to get out onto the highway. It stands out for the sound of the engine, not the quiet efficiency of so many of the modern automobiles going by. It stands out because it is loud, and for a city this area has been quiet. The rev of the engine seems to hold impatience and warning, a hint of menace, while a pair of individuals finish their cross. The car peels out, turns right, disappears.

There are no traffic lights at this intersection I've chosen. There are no poles that hold the famed Berlin Man pedestrian signals.

15:45

I've come to realize that there's no one in athleisure. Those who are in athletic gear are doing athletics. Jogging, mostly. I note this as an oddity to my American sensibilities. I can't remember the last time I was in public in the US and didn't see someone in sweat pants.

There's a woman riding some kind of motorcycle my dad would have called a crotch rocket. She's dressed in black leathers, white helmet, pastel blue backpack. When she leaves the intersection it's slower and with more caution than t e blue car of a few minutes before.

Most of the people walking through are individuals. Their heads are slightly down, just under half have earbuds or large over-the-head headphones - most of the latter are male, under thirty. Some wear hats, but bare heads are more common. Most of the couples are older, late forties at least. Sometimes there are families.

I watch a trio cross towards the platz. The man and woman each pull one of the near-ubiquitous roller suitcases and a small girl, maybe six, wanders between them. As they cross, the man veers wide and to the right, the woman and child to the left. Did I misjudge that they were together? But no, the woman gestures the man back over and they converge before descending the stairs to the underground.

15:50

There's an electronic squelch that draws almost everyone's attention. Microphone feedback. It comes from somewhere beyond the cluster of police, so i can't make out the cause.

A smoker has taken over the far corner. He paces back and forth while holding his phone to his ear, puffing away at the cigarette. He's too far away for me to get a whiff of the smoke, the light breeze carrying it off before it reaches me.

A shock of bright red catches my attention in the sea of dull colors - mostly blacks, grays, some browns or the blue of denim, leaving all the pedestrians with a sense of sameness. It's hair dye again, this time on a young woman dressed in blacks: a long wool coat, combat boots, tattered jeans, and a t-shirt. She walks with a pair of men.

Most of groups are younger people, under thirty i would say. They cluster together in ways that clock the sidewalk and leave me wondering what the expected etiquette is here. Should they be giving way?

A man in his sixties catches my attention. His hair is all gray with streaks of white, caught up in a manbun. He's clean shaven, pushing a stroller. In the stroller's seat a blonde girl, three or four, chatters away in German. Most men have short hair, I've noticed. The seven or so with manbuns I would see this day stand out.

One manbun is too many.

16:00

I haven't noticed any homeless here. Berlin is a city of around 4 million people and hasn't completely solved the unhoused problem, but i don't see any here. There are no obviously hostile pieces of architecture to keep them away. No benches segemented such that they can't be used as beds, for instance.

In fact, there are no benches at all.

Potsdamer has the feel of a nonplace. It's corporate and sterile with little to invite one to loiter.

16:05

A hint of cannabis drifts by on the breeze. It's legal here, recreationally and medically.

No one has been wearing a suit. I've glimpsed a tie worn under a sweater here and there, and certainly there have been those who are in business casual attire, but no one in a suit.

The cops haven't moved. They still stand there chatting. One has his hands tucked into the arms of his tactical vest. They glance towards the sound of music, just a few bars of something stringed. I think it's the same direction as the earlier mic squelch.

Many phones are held in many hands as people walk buy. One man is so engrossed in his that he nearly runs someone over in the intersection; she swerves her path around him.

I've seen two smokers now. The pacer at the corner, and now a woman off to the side. In my mind they were "smokers" and not a man or woman first. Is smoking a form of Master Status? There are a lot of smokers in Berlin.

An older couple moves out of the way of traffic so the man can pull a map out of his back pocket and consult it. They're both gray haired, maybe in their 70s. They're one of the rare examples of someone moving out of the way on purpose and being considerate to the flow of traffic.

16:12

Cold, wet drops of rain start to splash against my bare head and the table in front of me. Sprinkles, nothing more. They pass quickly, before I can even notice if their presence caused the people to move any faster.

Traffic, both on the road and the sidewalks, has picked up. What once was maybe 20 people walking by at any given time has turned to 50. Small children are more frequently, their little hands tucked into their guardians'.

Most of the people who have passed by have been Caucasian or Asian. I can count the presence of black people on two hands.

16:15

I wrap up, taking my coffee cup inside and then walk to the nearby Tiergarten for my walk and to let the thoughts pool around in my head.

The Day's Catch

At the end of the day, I'm left with a few thoughts. First, I need to include more timestamps to separate activity. That's easily corrected. Two, I need to pay more attention to the actual interactions and not the individuals.

This was just getting to know the lay of the land. When I go back next week, I will do so with greater focus. In particular, I want to observe the way behavior changes between individuals and groups when it comes to who has the right-of-way in sharing the sidewalk. It seems to me that the larger the group, or the faster the mover, the more it/they seems to feel entitled to the space. I'll call this the Juggernaut Theorum based on the X-men character, but more properly it might be termed Proxemics or Social Force or Pedestiran Formatting.

I also want to pay more attention to the rules of the sidewalk. When should people yield and not? I'll have to look up both the traffic laws for bikes, scooters, and cars as they relate to pedestrians and also research the expected norms.

Last, I'm going to work on my reflexivity. There were several times in my notes I wrote "family" or "couple" and made assumptions of heteronormativity or nuclear family units when, as an observer, I have no idea if these are true. As such, they should not be recorded. I noted someone looking bored, and while Dr. Paul Ekman noted a certain universality of facial expressions, boredom is not one of them and I shouldn't make that assumption. I also need to remember that as someone with C-PTSD I am hyper-sensitive to facial expressions, body language, and tone and may be reading more into these than is intended.