Charlie Hebdo is written near flowers and candles left at the Place de la Republique at midday in solidarity with victims of yesterday's terrorist attack on January 8, 2015 in Paris, France. Photo: Getty Images
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Charlie Hebdo: what we know so far

Police in France are still tracking the three men responsible for killing 12 people yesterday at the offices of satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo. Mass vigils are held around the world.

Police are still attempting to track down the three suspects believed to be responsible for yesterday's attack on French satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo. Meanwhile, people and organisations around the world have condemned the murder of 12 people, with many cities seeing spontaneous vigils where pens were held aloft in celebration of the right to satire and free speech.

French police have released the names of the 12 victims from the attack. They are:

  • Frédéric Boisseau, maintenance worker
  • Franck Brinsolaro, police officer
  • Jean "Cabu" Cabut, cartoonist
  • Stéphane "Charb" Charbonnier, editor-in-chief
  • Elsa Cayat, psychoanalyst and columnist
  • Philippe Honoré, cartoonist
  • Bernard Maris, economist and shareholder in Charlie Hebdo magazine
  • Ahmed Merabet, policeman
  • Moustapha Ourad, proofreader
  • Michel Renaud, festival organiser
  • Georges Wolinski, cartoonist
  • Bernard "Tignous" Verlhac, cartoonist

Clockwise, from top left: Jean "Cabu" Cabut, Bernard "Tignous" Verlhac, Stéphane "Charb" Charbonnier, Georges Wolinski. Photo: Getty Images

The remaining staff of Charlie Hebdo have said that they intend to print the magazine as normal next week, with an estimated print run of a million copies (compared to a usual run of around 60,000). The Guardian reports writer Patrick Pelloux saying that "stupidity will not win". Google has donated 250,000 to the magazine, while the staff have accepted an invitation from Libération magazine to use their office for work.

Three suspects have been named by French police: brothers Saïd Kouachi (32) and Chérif Kouachi (34), who are alleged to have carried out the attack, and 18-year-old Hamyd Moura, who was named as the driver of the getaway car. However, Moura reportedly handed himself into police immediately, with classmates claiming he was in school with them throughout the day of the shooting. At the time of writing, police are going door-to-door through the village of Corcy, northeast of Paris, believing the two brothers to be hiding somewhere in the area.

Reactions from around the world to the attacks have ranged from shocked to defiant. Many major cities, including London, Berlin, Moscow, Tunis and Rio de Janeiro, saw main squares and streets filled with candlelit vigils - and many people have stood while holding pens or pencils aloft, in a symbolic gesture of solidarity with the Charlie Hebdo victims:

A vigil in Lyons. Photo: Getty Images

The vigil in Trafalgar Square, London.

Cartoonists from every corner of the planet have also responded to the events in Paris yesterday.

However, there have already been several reprisal attacks reported by AFP against mosques across France. Early this morning a street cleaner and a police officer were also both shot in southern Paris, with police treating it as related to yesterday's attack.

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It's easy to see where Berlin is being rebuilt – just hit the streets

My week, from walking the streets of Berlin to class snobbery and the right kind of gentrification.

Brick by brick, block by block, the people are rebuilding the city once called Faust’s Metropolis. To see it clearly, put your boots on. One of the most bracing walks starts by the Gethsemane Church, which served as a haven for dissenters in the last days of the GDR and takes you down ­towards the Hackescher Markt.

Here, in what is still the eastern half of a divided city that wears its division more lightly, is a Berlin experience both old and new. In three decades of frequent visits, it has been fascinating to note how much this part of town has changed. Even a decade ago these streets were rundown. With crumbling buildings showing bulletholes, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the place looked like in 1945. Now there are lilacs, blues, and yellows. Cafés, bars and restaurants abound, serving the young professionals attracted to the city by cheap rents and a renewed sense of community.

 

Breaking the fourth wall

Looking north along Schliemannstraße, you’ll find a delightful vista of well-tended balconies. It’s a pleasant place to live, notwithstanding the gaggle of grotesques who gather round the corner in the square. On Kastanienallee, which forms the second leg of the walk, an old city feels young. It’s a kind of gentrification but the right kind. There’s more to eat, to drink, to buy, for all.

Berlin, where Bertolt Brecht staged his unwatchable plays, was supposed to have been transformed by a proletarian revolution. Instead, it has been restored to health by a very middle-class one. Germany has always had a well-educated middle class, and the nation’s restoration would have impossible without such people. The irony is delicious – not that irony buttered many parsnips for “dirty Bertie”.

 

The new snobbery

The British Museum’s survey of German history “Memories of a Nation” is being presented at the Martin-Gropius-Bau as “The British View”. Germans, natürlich, are curious to see how we observe them. But how do they see us?

A German friend recently in England  said that the images that struck him most forcibly were the tins of food and cheap booze people piled up in supermarkets, and the number of teenage girls pushing prams. Perhaps Neil MacGregor, the former director of the British Museum who will shortly take up a similar role here at the new Humboldt Forum, may turn his attention to a “German View” of the United Kingdom.

There’s no shortage of material. In Schlawinchen, a bar that typifies Kreuzberg’s hobohemia, a college-educated English girl was trying to explain northern England to an American she had just met. Speaking in an ugly modern Mancunian voice that can only be acquired through years of practice (sugar pronounced as “sug-oar”), she refer­red to Durham and York as “middle class, you know, posh”, because those cities had magnificent cathedrals.

When it comes to inverted snobbery, no nation can match us. To be middle class in Germany is an indication of civic value. In modern England, it can mark you as a leper.

 

Culture vultures

The Humboldt Forum, taking shape by the banks of the Spree, reconsecrates the former site of the GDR’s Palace of the Republic. When it opens in 2018 it will be a “living exhibition”, dedicated to all the cultures of the world. Alexander von Humboldt, the naturalist and explorer, was the brother of Wilhelm, the diplomat and philosopher, whose name lives on in the nearby university.

In Potsdamerplatz there are plans to build a modern art museum, crammed in between the Neue Nationalgalerie and the Philharmonie, home to the Berlin Philharmonic. Meanwhile, the overhaul of the Deutsche Staatsoper, where Daniel Barenboim is music director for life, is likely to be completed, fingers crossed, next autumn.

Culture everywhere! Or perhaps that should be Kultur, which has a slightly different meaning in Germany. They take these things more seriously, and there is no hint of bogus populism. In London, plans for a new concert hall have been shelved. Sir Peter Hall’s words remain true: “England is a philistine country that loves the arts.”

 

European neighbours

When Germans speak of freedom, wrote A J P Taylor, a historian who seems to have fallen from favour, they mean the freedom to be German. No longer. When modern Germans speak of freedom, they observe it through the filter of the European Union.

But nation states are shaped by different forces. “We are educated to be obedient,” a Berlin friend who spent a year at an English school once told me. “You are educated to be independent.” To turn around Taylor’s dictum: when the English speak of freedom,
they mean the freedom to be English.

No matter what you may have heard, the Germans have always admired our independence of spirit. We shall, however, always see “Europe” in different ways. Europe, good: we can all agree on that. The European Union, not so good. It doesn’t mean we have to fall out, and the Germans are good friends to have.

 

Hook, line and sinker

There are fine walks to be had in the west, too. In Charlottenburg, the Kensington of Berlin, the mood is gentler, yet you can still feel the city humming. Here, there are some classic places to eat and drink – the Literaturhauscafé for breakfast and, for dinner, Marjellchen, a treasure trove of east Prussian forest delights. Anything that can be shot and put in a pot!

For a real Berlin experience, though, head at nightfall for Zwiebelfisch, the great tavern on Savignyplatz, and watch the trains glide by on the other side of Kantstraße. Hartmut Volmerhaus, a most amusing host, has been the guvnor here for more than 30 years and there are no signs that his race is run. The “Fisch” at twilight: there’s nowhere better to feel the pulse of this remarkable city. 

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage