Exhibition: The History of May Day

We have witnessed signi­fi­cant attacks on labour rights since the 1990s under the guise of “neoli­be­ra­lism”. De- indus­tria­liza­tion across Germany plun­ged the orga­ni­zed workers’ move­ment into a crisis from which it has not yet reco­vered. The number of union members has decli­ned shar­ply. Today, hard-won rights such as the 8‑hour work­day are under attack, while billi­ons of euros are being poured into mili­tary buil­dup. May 1st is beco­ming more rele­vant than ever—to defend workers’ rights and oppose the false solu­tion of a mili­ta­ri­zed economy. With this exhi­bi­tion, we examine the history of May 1st in Berlin and Germany from 1890 to 1990 and offer a perspec­tive on its inter­na­tio­nal significance.

Table of contents 

1 May 1890 

The first Labour Day 

On May 1, 1890, Berlin became the scene of a quiet but signi­fi­cant protest: For the first time, German workers comme­mo­ra­ted Inter­na­tio­nal Workers’ Day, which was estab­lished at the foun­ding congress of the Second Inter­na­tio­nal in Paris the previous year, to advo­cate for an eight-hour work­day. Howe­ver, unlike in later years, the first May Day did not involve loud demons­tra­ti­ons or mili­tant marches. Instead, it was a day marked by symbo­lic labour strug­gles and deli­be­rate restraint.

In Berlin, there was a climate of uncer­tainty. Although the Anti-Socia­list Laws enac­ted in 1878 had offi­ci­ally been repea­led by autumn 1890, repres­sion and police surveil­lance contin­ued to affect the daily lives of workers’ orga­ni­sa­ti­ons. Many trade unions and socia­list groups had only recently resu­med their legal acti­vi­ties. Any open poli­ti­cal assem­bly on 1 May would have been swiftly shut down. Thus, a diffe­rent form of protest was chosen: the May Day strike. In a coll­ec­tive action demons­t­ra­ting both courage and disci­pline, thou­sands of workers stayed away from work that day. Entire facto­ries, work­shops, and cons­truc­tion sites were empty or had drasti­cally redu­ced staff numbers.

The power of soli­da­rity was parti­cu­larly evident in Berlin’s large working-class districts, such as Moabit, Wedding and Fried­richs­hain. The streets were unusually quiet, with even small shop owners joining the action. Only a few, very low-key gathe­rings took place in public squa­res or parks. The police chief had announ­ced a zero-tole­rance policy for demons­tra­ti­ons. Most gathe­rings remained small. They were almost conspi­ra­to­rial. Under the watchful eyes of plain-clothes police, people deli­vered poli­ti­cal spee­ches and distri­bu­ted leaflets.

The press had a mixed reac­tion: Conser­va­tive news­pa­pers spoke of ‘usel­ess work refu­sal’ and ‘undi­sci­pli­ned inci­te­ment’. Mean­while, more libe­ral and social demo­cra­tic voices were impres­sed by the workers’ calm and unity.  In retro­s­pect, the first May Day in Berlin was a quiet but powerful signal. Despite prohi­bi­ti­ons, thre­ats and deca­des of repres­sion, it demons­tra­ted that the workers’ move­ment poss­es­sed a high degree of self-orga­ni­sa­tion. Although they did not imme­dia­tely achieve their goal of an eight-hour day, this day marked an important begin­ning. The workers made them­sel­ves visi­ble — through their absence.

1 May 1916 

A Protest Against War and the Silence of the Masses

On 1 May 1916, Karl Liebknecht’s voice broke the cripp­ling silence of Germany’s wartime society. “Down with the war! Down with the govern­ment!” he shou­ted to seve­ral thousand workers gathe­red at Pots­da­mer Platz. That year, May Day in Berlin became a day of coura­ge­ous and symbo­lic rebel­lion against an empire rife with censor­ship and natio­na­list propa­ganda. Workers stood up against the war, mili­ta­rism and the silence of the masses.

Germany had been invol­ved in the First World War since  August 1914. The SPD, which was origi­nally rooted in the workers’ move­ment, had adopted the “Burg­frie­den” (civil truce) policy and appro­ved war credits. Resis­tance soon grew within the party, espe­ci­ally among Karl Lieb­knecht, Rosa Luxem­burg, and other socia­lists, who would later form the Spar­ta­cus League. Lieb­knecht was the only member of the Reichs­tag to vote against war credits in 1914. May 1, 1916, marked the first major public anti-war demons­tra­tion in Germany. At great perso­nal risk, Berlin workers—many of them metalworkers—joined by young socia­lists and women from the labor move­ment, orga­ni­zed an unaut­ho­ri­zed protest. Despite the ban, seve­ral thousand people gathe­red at Pots­da­mer Platz in the early after­noon. This central Berlin trans­port hub, typi­cally asso­cia­ted with bour­geois life, had now become the scene of poli­ti­cal upheaval.

After step­ping onto a raised plat­form and addres­sing the crowd, Karl Lieb­knecht was imme­dia­tely arres­ted. In the days that follo­wed, police carried out raids, made mass arrests, and impo­sed harsh prison senten­ces. Lieb­knecht hims­elf was senten­ced to four years in prison, promp­ting inter­na­tio­nal protests.

Despite its rela­tive brevity and the massive state repres­sion, the demons­tra­tion of May 1, 1916, was a turning point.

It demons­tra­ted that resis­tance move­ments were active within the German Empire, even during wartime, and drew rene­wed atten­tion to 1 May as a day of inter­na­tio­nal struggle and soli­da­rity against a war that had killed milli­ons. Karl Liebknecht’s legacy conti­nues to reso­nate over a century later.

1 May 1929 

Bloody May (Blut­mai) in Wedding

Bloody May (Blut­mai in German) marks one of the dead­liest moments in the history of the Berlin workers’ move­ment. The late Weimar Repu­blic was a time of poli­ti­cal tension and econo­mic hard­ship. On 1 May 1929, confron­ta­ti­ons between the Berlin police, led by Social Demo­crat Karl Zörgie­bel, and orga­nised sections of the working class escalated.

Just days before Inter­na­tio­nal Workers Day, the Berlin police had issued an offi­cial ban on demons­tra­ti­ons. Nevert­hel­ess, the Commu­nist Party of Germany (KPD) called for protests. In working-class districts such as Berlin-Wedding, Neukölln and Fried­richs­hain, where unem­ploy­ment, housing shorta­ges and poli­ti­cal discon­tent were rife, people took to the streets in marches and rallies. The police respon­ded with extreme bruta­lity. They atta­cked demons­tra­tors, sear­ched apart­ments, fired tear gas, and deployed machine guns—sometimes even in densely popu­la­ted resi­den­tial areas.

Inno­cent resi­dents also became targets of the police. Noto­rious cases include that of Max Gemein­hardt, a Social Demo­crat hims­elf, who was shot dead on his balc­ony. The after­math was cata­stro­phic: at least 33 people were killed, hundreds were inju­red, and over 1,200 were arres­ted. No police offi­cer was ever held accoun­ta­ble for their actions, even though nume­rous deaths—caused by shots fired into people’s backs or into resi­den­tial buildings—were clearly unre­la­ted to any fight­ing. May 1, 1929, thus became a symbol of divi­sion: the SPD distanced itself from the protes­ters and defen­ded the police actions, which had long-term conse­quen­ces for rela­ti­ons between the SPD and the KPD and for the pros­pects of a united anti-fascist front.

“In the tiny apart­ment, the family hudd­les around the empty cooking pot. The father, unem­ployed for months, stares at the rotting floor­boards. The child­ren cry from hunger, but the mother has nothing left to give them—only the last piece of bread, hard as stone. Outside, the rain drums against the windows, and some­where in the buil­ding, someone coughs up blood. ‘If we don’t get anything tomor­row,’ whis­pers the father, ‘we’ll go out into the street. Better dead than like this.’ ”

– Chap­ter 2, Barri­ca­des at Berlin, Klaus Neukrantz, 1931

1 May 1933 

Flags and Fanfa­res for Gleich­schal­tung (“enforced conformity”)

On 1 May 1933, the fascist dicta­tor­ship of German finance capi­tal betrayed the working class in a histo­ric act of appro­pria­tion. Under the guise of the ‘Day of Natio­nal Labour’, the Nazi regime stole what had been the central day of struggle for the inter­na­tio­nal prole­ta­riat. The 1st of May had, for the first time in German history, become a signi­fi­cant moment in the suppres­sion of the labour move­ment. It was no longer a cele­bra­tion in the name of prole­ta­rian inter­na­tio­na­lism and revo­lu­tio­nary solidarity.

This fascist spec­ta­cle paved the way for a final break with the tradi­ti­ons of revo­lu­tio­nary class struggle. It marked the shift to open, terror-based repres­sion of workers in the service of indus­trial and agra­rian elites.

The spec­ta­cle took place at Tempel­ho­fer Feld, where Adolf Hitler addres­sed over 100,000 people in a speech broad­cast live on the radio. He presen­ted hims­elf as the “People’s Chan­cellor,” clai­ming to have over­come class divi­si­ons and to be resto­ring “honour” to work:  “The time of class struggle is over! The clas­ses should no longer fight each other, but rather unite in service to the natio­nal community!”

“And the truth is even worse than previously known.”


– Report: In the Dachau Murder Camp, Hans Beim­ler, 1933

Beneath the carefully staged facade of the event, the Nazi leader­ship was alre­ady prepa­ring its next move. On May 2, 1933, SA and SS units stor­med the head­quar­ters of inde­pen­dent trade unions across Germany, inclu­ding in Berlin. Union offi­ci­als were arres­ted, offices were ransa­cked, and assets were seized. The unions were dissol­ved and absor­bed into the German Labour Front (DAF), a Nazi mass orga­niza­tion that served as an instru­ment of indoc­tri­na­tion rather than repre­sen­ting workers’ inte­rests. On that day, Berlin was a sea of red flags – not of the kind flown by the workers’ parties, but of the kind bearing the swas­tika. Even before the day itself, the Nazi regime had mobi­li­zed all its forces to portray it as a “new unity of labour and nation.” IIn orderly forma­ti­ons, workers, employees, civil servants, offi­ci­als, and members of the Hitler Youth marched through the streets. Facto­ries and offices were closed. Bands and SA units para­ded through the city, while slogans, brass bands, and loud­spea­ker announce­ments echoed everywhere.

That same year, 1 May was offi­ci­ally desi­gna­ted the “Day of Natio­nal Labour,” a state-manda­ted holi­day in the name of natio­nal unity. For many Berli­ners, espe­ci­ally those invol­ved in socia­list and commu­nist move­ments, the day carried bitter symbo­lism. While some stayed away from the cele­bra­ti­ons, others atten­ded out of fear or uncer­tainty rather than conviction.

The poli­ti­cal left had been largely crus­hed. The KPD (Commu­nist Party of Germany) had been banned for weeks, and its members of parlia­ment were either arres­ted or in hiding. The SPD (Social Demo­cra­tic Party of Germany) was also under heavy pres­sure. While fanfa­res sounded at Tempel­ho­fer Feld, the end of trade union inde­pen­dence for milli­ons of workers was immi­nent. May 1 was used as a propa­ganda plat­form and marked the begin­ning of the final destruc­tion of all inde­pen­dent workers’ orga­niza­ti­ons. What had tradi­tio­nally been a day of class conscious­ness and soli­da­rity had become a symbol of Nazi co-optation.

Albert Kuntz

Strong and Full of Hope

“As long as I brea­the, I will make sure that things don’t go accor­ding to their plan.”

– Albert Kuntz, from Wolf­gang Kieß­lin­g’s GDR biogra­phy (1964)

By the time the First World War ended, Albert Kuntz had expe­ri­en­ced trench warfare and war-injury. The coppers­mith from Wurzen was convin­ced: never again. He joined the Commu­nist Party in 1919 and star­ted his struggle for a more just society. In 1932, he ente­red the Prus­sian State Parlia­ment as a repre­sen­ta­tive of the labour move­ment. He was a staunch oppo­nent of Germany’s rear­ma­ment – a policy that would even­tually plunge the coun­try into cata­stro­phe once more. Howe­ver, the Nazi seizure of power brought an end to his lawful poli­ti­cal acti­vi­ties. Kuntz was arres­ted in March 1933 and sent through a system of prisons and concen­tra­tion camps – Kassel, Lich­ten­burg, Buchen­wald. He clan­des­ti­nely orga­nised resis­tance ever­y­where, inclu­ding secret meetings, prisoner soli­da­rity and the attempt to remain humane under inhu­mane condi­ti­ons. Afri­ka­ni­sche Straße 140 in Berlin-Wedding, his home until he was arres­ted, was his last refuge. Today, a Stol­per­stein comme­mo­ra­tes him there.

At the Mittel­bau-Dora concen­tra­tion camp, prisoners were forced to assem­ble V2 rockets under­ground. Kuntz used his posi­tion as cons­truc­tion mana­ger to deli­bera­tely cause produc­tion defects. Whether through impro­perly laid cables or delayed work steps, every unusable part repre­sen­ted a small victory against the war machine. In Decem­ber 1944, he was betrayed and tortu­red. He was killed on the night of Janu­ary 22–23, 1945. The life of Albert Kuntz demons­tra­tes that demo­cracy and peace cannot be taken for gran­ted. They require people who speak out early, orga­nize, and refuse to remain silent, even in the face of violence. His life and death remain a powerful reminder.

Biogra­phy

Early years and World War I

 

Born on Decem­ber 4, 1896 in Benne­witz near Wurzen

1914: Comple­tion of trai­ning as a coppersmith

1915: Conscrip­tion as a soldier in the First World War

1916: Woun­ded at Verdun, end of the war in a mili­tary hospital

 

Weimar Repu­blic (1919–1933)

 

1919: Co-foun­der of the KPD local group in Wurzen

1921: City coun­cil in Wurzen

1923: Full-time KPD func­tion­ary in Leipzig

1926–1928: KPD District Leader­ship Hesse-Frankfurt

1929: Candi­date for the Central Commit­tee of the KPD

1930: Orga­niza­tio­nal Secre­tary, District Leader­ship Berlin-Brandenburg

1932–1933: Member of the Prus­sian State Parliament

 

Perse­cu­tion under Natio­nal Socialism

 

March 12, 1933: Arrest by the Gestapo

1933–1935: Impri­son­ment in Kassel Penitentiary

1935–1937: Impri­son­ment in the Lich­ten­burg concen­tra­tion camp

1937–1943: Impri­son­ment in Buchen­wald concen­tra­tion camp, where Kuntz was a leading member of the ille­gal KPD camp management

1943: Trans­fer to Mittel­bau-Dora concen­tra­tion camp near Nordhausen

1944: Weeks of torture by the Gestapo

Janu­ary 22/23, 1945: Murder in the Mittel­bau-Dora concen­tra­tion camp

 

Legacy and memory

 

Hono­red as an anti-fascist resis­tance figh­ter in the GDR

Naming of schools, streets, businesses

2012: Laying of Stol­per­steine ​​(stumb­ling stones) in the Afri­can Street 140, Berlin-Wedding

League against Imperailism

The Workers’ and Natio­nal Libe­ra­tion Move­ments United

The begin­ning of the 20th century saw two signi­fi­cant deve­lo­p­ments: labour strug­gles inten­si­fied in the West, whilst anti-colo­nial strug­gles erupted in the East. Broad natio­nal libe­ra­tion move­ments emer­ged in Persia, China, India, Korea, and Indo­ne­sia. Within the Euro­pean workers’ move­ment, the colo­nial ques­tion became a point of conten­tion between those who affirmed the inter­na­tio­na­list posi­tion of Marx and Engels (Rosa Luxem­burg and Vladi­mir Lenin) and those who advo­ca­ted a “socia­list colo­nial civi­li­zing policy” (Eduard Bern­stein and Henri van Kol).

While the majo­rity of the Second Inter­na­tio­nal (1889–1914) paid little atten­tion to colo­nised peop­les, the Bols­he­viks incre­asingly turned their atten­tion east­ward. They reco­gni­zed in the “awake­ning of Asia” the emer­gence of a new revo­lu­tio­nary dyna­mic that was to be closely linked to the struggle of the prole­ta­riat in the West. Lenin argued that the explo­ita­tion of oppres­sed count­ries provi­ded the mate­rial basis for oppor­tu­nism in Europe, as the impe­ria­list bour­geoi­sie used a share of colo­nial profits to bribe sections of the working class and blunt revo­lu­tio­nary struggle.

“The history of the second Inter­na­tio­nal, that peri­s­hed inglo­riously, showed that so long as the bour­geoi­sie of the world has a reser­voir of power in colo­nies in gene­ral, and in Asia in parti­cu­lar, it can resist the most despe­rate attacks of the insur­gent proletariat.”

– Pak Din-Schun, member of the Comin­tern, 1920

Anti-impe­ria­list soli­da­rity, both in prin­ci­ple and in prac­tice, ther­e­fore became a condi­tion for admis­sion to the newly foun­ded Commu­nist Inter­na­tio­nal (1919–1943). So, the “League Against Impe­ria­lism” was foun­ded at the Brussels Congress in 1927 under the leader­ship of the Comin­tern and on the initia­tive of the German commu­nist Willi Münzen­berg. For the first time, the confe­rence brought toge­ther libe­ra­tion move­ments from Africa and Asia with repre­sen­ta­ti­ves of the workers’ move­ments in the West and the USSR. Anti-colo­nia­lism united them.

“The first of May in Berlin, the first of August demons­tra­ti­ons of the inter­na­tio­nal prole­ta­riat, the strikes and deve­lo­p­ment of the workers’ struggle in Britain, the shar­pe­ning of the strike warfare in Germany and France, the strike of the tobacco workers in Bulga­ria, the struggle of the miners in Rumania, the strike struggle in the United States, and the whole left­ward move­ment of the working-class in the impe­ria­list count­ries have been accom­pa­nied by simi­lar move­ments in the colo­nial count­ries. We find a gigan­tic growth of strike warfare and of the natio­nal move­ment in India, a sharp crisis in the coun­ter-revo­lu­tio­nary posi­tion and a rise of the working-class move­ment in China, armed upri­sings of the fella­heen and the Bedouin masses in Pales­tine […], a series of armed revolts in Latin America (Colum­bia and Venezuela)” […].

It is only the blind who do not see, and only the oppor­tu­nists who do not want to under­stand, the wide perspec­ti­ves opened out by the simul­ta­neous rise of the revo­lu­tio­nary workers’ move­ment, and of the natio­nal revo­lu­tio­nary move­ment. From this it follows that the League Against Impe­ria­lism, in these circum­s­tances, can play a posi­tive role in widening, uniting and orga­ni­s­ing the struggle against impe­ria­lism in the impe­ria­list centres and in the colo­nial and semi-colo­nial countries.”

– The Commu­nist Inter­na­tio­nal, Vol. 6, No. 24., Novem­ber 1, 1929

1 May in West Germany

A Day of Struggle Overs­ha­dowed by “Social Partnership”

During the post-war period, the workers’ move­ment in West Germany emer­ged with demands for a ‘new order’ in society. It called for the natio­na­li­sa­tion of key indus­tries and banks, as well as equal co-deter­mi­na­tion for workers. Even the conser­va­tive Chris­tian Demo­cra­tic Union (CDU) initi­ally advo­ca­ted over­co­ming capi­ta­lism in its ‘Ahlen Programme’ (1947). Howe­ver, the USA, Great Britain and France wanted to estab­lish West Germany as a bulwark against socia­lism in Europe. Faced with wide­spread anti-capi­ta­list senti­ment, they attempted to curb the growing strength of the workers’ move­ment and preven­ted the forma­tion of a unified, cross-sector trade union, as well as the merger of the SPD and KPD. Although May 1 was declared a public holi­day by the Allies in 1946, banners and posters were banned at rallies in the Western zones.

The move­ment initi­ally secu­red parity-based co-deter­mi­na­tion for workers in the coal and steel indus­tries, but soon came under pres­sure as the govern­ment of Konrad Adenauer pushed back. Despite deter­mi­ned strikes, inclu­ding in the news­pa­per sector, the leader­ship of the German Trade Union Confe­de­ra­tion (DGB) capi­tu­la­ted in 1952 and accepted only one-third co-deter­mi­na­tion in other sectors of the economy. The poli­ti­cal strike – a key tool of the labour move­ment – was there­af­ter banned in West Germany. The DGB shifted its focus to wages and shorter working hours. On 1 May 1955, it deman­ded: “40 hours of work is enough!” The follo­wing year, saw the launch of a campaign for the intro­duc­tion of the five-day week under the slogan: ‘On Satur­days, Dad belongs to me!’

At the same time, a mass move­ment emer­ged in oppo­si­tion to the rear­ma­ment of West Germany. Howe­ver, it ulti­m­ately failed due to crimi­na­li­sa­tion and inter­nal divi­si­ons. Anti-commu­nism played a decisive role in this process. Members of the KPD were expel­led from state govern­ments and trade unions and faced profes­sio­nal bans. The party was ulti­m­ately banned in 1956.

Busi­ness leaders declared class struggle obso­lete. In the name of “social part­ner­ship,” unions were expec­ted to aban­don the mili­tant charac­ter of May Day. Howe­ver, as the invest­ment boom weak­ened toward the end of the 1960s, the number of “wild­cat” strikes—that is, strikes not orga­nised by unions—increased shar­ply. The West German labour move­ment also gained new momen­tum from so-called “guest workers”. Discri­mi­na­tion against them was effec­tively built into the wage system, as they were placed in lower pay brackets and earned signi­fi­cantly less than their German colle­agues. This contri­bu­ted to a wave of more than 300 wild­cat strikes in 1973.

The strikes had some posi­tive outco­mes: the union move­ment grew stron­ger, and the wage clas­si­fi­ca­tion system was refor­med. Howe­ver, they also led to dismis­sals, depor­ta­ti­ons, and repres­sion. It became clear that the struggle for equal rights would have to conti­nue despite resis­tance from the union leader­ship. This contri­bu­ted to a growing divide between the tradi­tio­nal DGB (German Trade Union Confe­de­ra­tion) May Day rallies and more poli­ti­cally char­ged demons­tra­ti­ons orga­nised by left-wing groups—a divide that persists to this day.

1 May in East Germany

May Day in the Workers’ and Peasants’ State

In East Germany, post­war poli­ti­cal deve­lo­p­ments took a funda­men­tally diffe­rent course from the West: large landow­ners and mono­poly capi­ta­lists were strip­ped of their power, while Social Demo­crats and Commu­nists retur­ned, from exile, the under­ground, and concen­tra­tion camps, to help build a new Germany. On May 1, 1946, two weeks after the foun­ding of the Socia­list Unity Party of Germany (SED), Berlin witnessed one of the largest demons­tra­ti­ons in its history to date. The labour move­ment in the East was now reunited.

The fascists had instru­men­ta­li­sed May 1st as the “Day of Natio­nal Labour”, elimi­na­ting trade unions and ruthl­essly perse­cu­ting social demo­crats and commu­nists. In the GDR, May 1st was eleva­ted to a new level as the “Inter­na­tio­nal Day of Struggle and Cele­bra­tion of the Workers for Peace and Socialism.”

Cele­bra­ti­ons took place ever­y­where, from Berlin to the smal­lest village. The day’s events kicked off with a demons­tra­tion that saw workers, farmers, employees, school­child­ren, students, scien­tists, and artists – in short, all social clas­ses – marching through the streets. In the capi­tal, a mili­tary parade demons­tra­ted the coun­try’s defense capa­bi­li­ties against the NATO forces statio­ned in West Germany. Banners proclai­med achie­ve­ments, set new goals—often in the form of concrete commit­ments from indi­vi­dual compa­nies or collectives—or declared their support for inter­na­tio­nal soli­da­rity and peace. The festi­vi­ties after­wards, which were orga­nised by muni­ci­pa­li­ties, civil society orga­ni­sa­ti­ons or busi­nesses them­sel­ves, were lively. The workers were cele­bra­ting themselves.

The socia­li­sa­tion of the means of produc­tion crea­ted the basis for a funda­men­tal alignment between the inte­rests of the state, company manage­ment, and the work­force. Despite signi­fi­cant chal­lenges and unfa­voura­ble start­ing condi­ti­ons, the GDR secu­red a broad range of rights for its popu­la­tion. Unem­ploy­ment was elimi­na­ted, housing was guaran­teed as a consti­tu­tio­nal right, and milli­ons gained access to culture and educa­tion. The GDR’s Labour Code was draf­ted with the invol­vement of workers, who submit­ted more than 23,000 propo­sed amend­ments, and streng­the­ned trade unions signi­fi­cantly. Unions were given a formal role in work­place co-deter­mi­na­tion, worked to improve working condi­ti­ons, and were tasked with safe­guar­ding workers’ dignity. The advance­ment and econo­mic eman­ci­pa­tion of women was enshri­ned in the consti­tu­tion as a state objec­tive and became a lived reality.

Why hold a “Day of Struggle” if ever­y­thing has alre­ady been secu­red? This turned out to be a miscon­cep­tion, as became clear in 1990. For some, parti­ci­pa­tion in the demons­tra­ti­ons gradu­ally became little more than a ritual of obli­ga­tion, but the wide­spread idea of a “compul­sion to parti­ci­pate in the May Day demons­tra­tion” belongs more to the realm of legend.

“It was always a ‘must,’ but it was also fun. May 1st: Whoe­ver wasn’t on duty went to the demons­tra­tion. After­wards, May Day punch on the ward! I know that many people say today they had problems with it. For me, it was a holi­day, both as a child in my family and later in the collective.”

– Petra Koark, nurse

With the disso­lu­tion of the GDR, its trade unions were merged into the DGB (German Trade Union Confe­de­ra­tion), resul­ting in signi­fi­cant member­ship losses. In the post-reuni­fi­ca­tion period, May 1 became marked by resis­tance to unpre­ce­den­ted deindus­tria­li­sa­tion, which pushed milli­ons of East Germans into unem­ploy­ment. Trade unions were not only power­less in the face of the dismant­ling of the East German economy and the priva­tis­a­tion of public assets, but with the “victory of capi­ta­lism,” capi­tal once again opera­ted without effec­tive cons­traints. As the socia­list count­ries ceased to exert indi­rect pres­sure on the West to protect social rights, social spen­ding cuts in the years that follo­wed affec­ted the entire German working class.

Internationalism: Anti-colonial May Day in East and West Germany

In socia­list states such as the GDR, the anti-colo­nial and inter­na­tio­na­list prin­ci­ples of the “League Against Impe­ria­lism” were put into prac­tice. Workers supported anti-colo­nial strug­gles, seeing them as a symbol of soli­da­rity among the oppres­sed peop­les of all nati­ons. The estab­lish­ment of the GDR as a workers’ and peasants’ state raised the prac­ti­cal soli­da­rity of the labour move­ment to a new level: an entire state now offi­ci­ally commit­ted its resour­ces to support­ing oppres­sed count­ries. The GDR supplied goods and mate­ri­als, helped build hospi­tals and indus­tries, and provi­ded weapons to orga­ni­sa­ti­ons such as FRELIMO in Mozam­bi­que, the PLO in Pales­tine, and the Viet­na­mese People’s Army. Within the GDR itself, thou­sands of students from former colo­nies were trai­ned as doctors, engi­neers, and agri­cul­tu­ral specia­lists. Members of libe­ra­tion move­ments also recei­ved mili­tary trai­ning and medi­cal care.

In this context, May Day 1975 was parti­cu­larly significant—the day before the Viet Cong captu­red Saigon, the capi­tal of South Viet­nam then occu­p­ied by the United States, brin­ging the Viet­nam War to an end. Most East Germans took part in soli­da­rity actions in support of Viet­nam: workers dona­ted part of their union dues by buying soli­da­rity stamps; child­ren coll­ec­ted recy­clable mate­ri­als and dona­ted the money they earned; jour­na­lists orga­nised soli­da­rity bazaars; and artists raised aware­ness of the situa­tion in Vietnam.

The Free German Trade Union Fede­ra­tion (FDGB) and the GDR’s Soli­da­rity Commit­tee were key insti­tu­ti­ons for inter­na­tio­nal networ­king and the orga­ni­sa­tion of soli­da­rity work. They main­tai­ned cont­acts with trade unions around the world and provi­ded prac­ti­cal support to workers and trade unio­nists in count­ries where they were perse­cu­ted or in the process of forming new states. The FDGB also ran its own inter­na­tio­nal trade union school, the Fritz Heckert School near Bernau, which was atten­ded by trade unio­nists from Africa, Asia, and Latin America. Many of them had parti­ci­pa­ted in libe­ra­tion struggles.

In West Germany, the anti-colo­nial senti­ment also persis­ted, though only within the oppo­si­tion. This was linked to the Fede­ral Republic’s support for the colo­nial wars waged by its NATO allies in Asia and Africa. The US war in Viet­nam was stron­gly rejec­ted by the student move­ment and the so-called “extra-parlia­men­tary oppo­si­tion” in the 1960s. In the 1970s and 1980s, soli­da­rity with libe­ra­tion move­ments in Nica­ra­gua, Nami­bia, Mozam­bi­que, Angola, and South Africa also played a central role.

Within the DGB (German Trade Union Confe­de­ra­tion), initia­ti­ves and working groups pushed for more inter­na­tio­na­list poli­cies, but faced resis­tance from right-wing Social Demo­crats within the leader­ship. As a result, May Day demons­tra­ti­ons outside the tradi­tio­nal trade union frame­work became incre­asingly common over time. From the 1970s onwards, May Day in Berlin was incre­asingly marked by a divide between DGB rallies and events orga­nised by socia­list or commu­nist groups.

1 May in Asia

Colo­nial Lega­cies and a Sea of Red Flags in India

May Day has a long and complex history in Asia, dating back to the early twen­tieth century. It emer­ged during a time shaped by impe­ria­list incur­si­ons, civil wars, poli­ti­cal insta­bi­lity, and the explo­ita­tion of colo­nised regi­ons for the capi­ta­list deve­lo­p­ment of the Western world.

This process had lasting impli­ca­ti­ons for the working masses of Asia. Even today, the expe­ri­ence of colo­nia­lism conti­nues to shape key sectors of Asian econo­mies, such as the hand­loom indus­try in India, as well as the tea and coffee indus­tries, which were intro­du­ced under British rule. As a result, labour move­ments in Asia had to cont­end with both explo­ita­tion by local capi­ta­lists and plun­de­ring by foreign mono­po­lies. Thus, May Day brings toge­ther these strug­gles and expres­ses the central conflict between capi­tal owners and the working class, that exists as starkly in Asian society as in Europe.

Colo­nial terri­to­ries histo­ri­cally under­pin­ned indus­trial growth in Europe and North America by supp­ly­ing cheap raw mate­ri­als and food, absor­bing surplus popu­la­ti­ons, and serving as depen­dent markets for metro­po­li­tan goods. Today, the same count­ries main­tain near-mono­po­li­stic control over high-end tech­no­logy through intellec­tual property regimes, while mass manu­fac­tu­ring is outsour­ced to the Global South, where workers often face explo­ita­tion and poor working condi­ti­ons at the hands of multi­na­tio­nal corporations.

May Day was first obser­ved in India in 1923 in Madras—now Chen­nai, Tamil Nadu—in the context of demands for an eight-hour working day. The inau­gu­ral cele­bra­tion was orga­nised by the Labour Kisan Party of Hindu­stan, foun­ded by M. Singa­ra­velu Chet­tiar, who was also among the early figu­res asso­cia­ted with the Commu­nist Party of India. In India, caste opera­tes as an equally perva­sive axis of oppres­sion that divi­des the labou­ring masses into addi­tio­nal ritual subca­te­go­ries, making the task of orga­ni­s­ing workers more complex.

Every year, May Day is marked with great enthu­si­asm across India as workers, acti­vists, acade­mics, and trade unio­nists march in soli­da­rity under raised red flags. From Kerala and Tamil Nadu to West Bengal and New Delhi, these gathe­rings reaf­firm a shared commit­ment to the strug­gles of the working class. In Kerala, May Day is marked by large rallies and public meetings as workers from various orga­ni­sa­ti­ons, inclu­ding the Centre of Indian Trade Unions (CITU), All India Agri­cul­tu­ral Workers Union (AIAWU), and All India Demo­cra­tic Women’s Asso­cia­tion (AIDWA), take to the streets. Along­side these demons­tra­ti­ons, discus­sions, and vibrant cultu­ral events are orga­nised. Streets and public spaces are deco­ra­ted with red flags, while revo­lu­tio­nary music, poetry, and perfor­man­ces create a festive and poli­ti­cal atmosphere.

The most urgent chal­lenges in Asia today concern the large masses of infor­mal labou­rers. It is ther­e­fore essen­tial that the Asian left estab­lish ideo­lo­gi­cal inroads into loca­li­ties in order to orga­nise this vast mass of workers who lack stable employ­ment and cannot be mobi­li­sed through tradi­tio­nal trade union structures.

Since the intro­duc­tion of new labour codes in 2025 by the Union govern­ment the Centre of Indian Trade Unions (CITU) has conduc­ted nati­on­wide strikes. These protests have been parti­cu­larly wide­spread in Kerala, where the Commu­nist Party of India (Marxist) led state govern­ment has histo­ri­cally safe­guarded workers’ rights and advan­ced the inte­rests of the working class.

1 May in Africa

From Anti-Colo­nial Struggle to Inde­pen­dence – From Unfi­nis­hed Libe­ra­tion to Trade Union Resistance

The history of May Day in Africa is inex­tri­ca­bly linked to the struggle against colo­nia­lism, apart­heid, and neoco­lo­nial explo­ita­tion. While the orig­ins of Inter­na­tio­nal Workers’ Day lie in the indus­trial regi­ons of North America and Europe, the conti­nent has given it a distinct, mili­tant charac­ter – a place where class struggle and anti-colo­nial resis­tance, natio­nal libe­ra­tion, and the fight for workers’ rights have never been separable.

It was acti­vists and an emer­ging local working class in mines, ports, and plan­ta­ti­ons who brought May Day to Africa at the end of the 19th century. The first docu­men­ted May Day cele­bra­tion in South Africa, for instance, took place in 1895. Nota­bly, the colo­nial system broa­dened the meaning of May Day in Africa compared to its Euro­pean coun­ter­part: it became not only an expres­sion of the class struggle between wage labour and capi­tal, but also a day to protest against a racist system. In East Africa, trade union move­ments of the 1940s used the day as a plat­form for anti-colo­nial orga­ni­s­ing, convin­ced that workers’ rights and natio­nal libe­ra­tion shared the same enemy.

With the inde­pen­dence move­ments of the 1960s, May Day gained offi­cial status in nume­rous count­ries. It was closely linked to the pursuit of libe­ra­tion from colo­nial depen­den­cies and the estab­lish­ment of a sove­reign economy. Howe­ver, the under­de­ve­lo­p­ment of Africa, driven by Europe, along with impe­ria­list inte­rests and neoco­lo­nial influen­ces, hinde­red the deve­lo­p­ment of these count­ries, parti­cu­larly after the collapse of the socia­list bloc.

The Western struc­tu­ral adjus­t­ment program­mes of the 1980s and 1990s – impo­sed by the Inter­na­tio­nal Mone­tary Fund and the World Bank – weak­ened trade unions, made work more preca­rious, and pushed milli­ons into the infor­mal sector. Today, more than half of Afri­ca’s working popu­la­tion works in the infor­mal sector – without social secu­rity, without coll­ec­tive bargai­ning agree­ments, without union protection.

South Africa occu­p­ies a special place in the history of May Day in Africa. On 1 May 1950, police shot and killed 18 striking workers in Soweto. In 1986, over 1.5 million workers parti­ci­pa­ted in a gene­ral strike called by the Congress of South Afri­can Trade Unions (COSATU). Follo­wing the first demo­cra­tic elec­tions in 1994, 1 May became a public holi­day known as “Workers’ Day

Today howe­ver, the Natio­nal Union of Metal­wor­kers of South Africa (NUMSA) draws a sobering conclu­sion: South Africa remains one of the most unequal socie­ties in the world. Unem­ploy­ment, inclu­ding among the poten­tial work­force, stands at 42 percent, while state-owned enter­pri­ses such as Eskom have been ruined by misma­nage­ment and corrup­tion. NUMSA denoun­ces the fact that, although the black working class has gained poli­ti­cal rights, the econo­mic struc­ture of apart­heid has remained largely intact. NUMSA ther­e­fore fights against austerity poli­cies and priva­tis­a­tion, and has estab­lished its own poli­ti­cal voice through the Socia­list Revo­lu­tio­nary Workers’ Party (SRWP), campaig­ning for the natio­na­li­sa­tion of the central bank. May 1st in South Africa is a day of struggle, not just a holi­day. It is a day to demand econo­mic libe­ra­tion, decent work and a socia­list alter­na­tive to a failing capi­ta­list system.

1 May in Latin America

The Fight Against Neoco­lo­nia­lism, Neoli­be­ra­lism, and Fascism

“The first of May is the only truly univer­sal day for all of huma­nity, the only day on which all the world’s histo­ries and geogra­phies, languages, reli­gi­ons and cultures come together.”

– Eduardo Galeano

In Latin America and the Carib­bean, May Day has always symbo­li­sed class conscious­ness and regio­nal iden­tity. It cele­bra­tes not only labour rights, but also the right to a digni­fied life in count­ries whose role in the inter­na­tio­nal divi­sion of labour, accor­ding to Gale­ano, is to “lose”.  Unlike in his native USA, 1 May here is a day of remem­brance for the martyrs of the Haymar­ket Upri­sing in Chicago, as well as for the thou­sands of union members, farm workers and acti­vists who lost their lives fight­ing for social justice. The protests often feature cross-border slogans calling for the defence of natu­ral resour­ces, the rejec­tion of foreign inter­fe­rence and wages that provide more than mere survi­val. Nowa­days, the streets give visi­bi­lity to those whom the system seeks to render invi­si­ble: infor­mal workers, women in the care sector and indi­ge­nous peoples.

The tradi­tion of cele­bra­ting May Day in Latin America began in the late 19th century, with the immi­gra­tion of Euro­pean and socia­lists and anar­chists. The first recor­ded cele­bra­tion took place in 1890. Early demons­tra­ti­ons in Mexico, Cuba and Argen­tina were brut­ally suppres­sed, giving the day its endu­ring mili­tant, anti-olig­ar­chic charac­ter. After the Mexi­can and Bols­he­vik Revo­lu­ti­ons, May Day became linked to the crea­tion of modern states and natio­nal libe­ra­tion move­ments. This tradi­tion contin­ued with the Cuban Revo­lu­tion of 1959. During the mili­tary dicta­tor­ships of the 1970s and ’80s, taking part in May Day cele­bra­ti­ons was an act of heroic resis­tance. With the return to demo­cracy, the day regai­ned its charac­ter as a site of mass mobilisation.

In the region, neoli­be­ra­lism was not just an econo­mic policy; it was also an instru­ment of explo­ita­tion. It made labour more preca­rious, priva­tised services and weak­ened unions to the brink of extinc­tion. Every May Day march is an indict­ment of this model. The Latin Ameri­can working class reco­g­ni­ses that its explo­ita­tion is closely tied to the region’s role as a supplier of raw mate­ri­als. The fight for higher wages in a lithium mine or on a plan­ta­tion is closely linked to the fight against colo­nial struc­tures. At the same time, it is neces­sary to resist the return of fascism. Workers’ move­ments often form the first line of defence for demo­cracy. Labour law reforms under Milei in Argen­tina have demons­tra­ted how quickly hard-won gains can be rolled back.

The most pres­sing strug­gles today include resis­tance to the US blockade of Cuba, thre­ats against Vene­zuela, the ongo­ing crisis in Haiti, and poli­cies that erode purcha­sing power and rest­rict access to basic services. The regu­la­tion of plat­form work and arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence is equally urgent: the “Uberi­sa­tion” of the economy is crea­ting a work­force with incre­asingly limi­ted rights. A just ecolo­gi­cal tran­si­tion must link climate protec­tion with the crea­tion of new, sustainable forms of work rather than lead to job losses. Infor­mal employ­ment remains a major chall­enge: more than half of all workers in Latin America are employed in the infor­mal sector. This means they lack legal protec­tion, labour rights, and social secu­rity. Brin­ging these milli­ons of people into formal employ­ment and streng­thening their poli­ti­cal voice is essen­tial to a deve­lo­p­ment model that prio­ri­ti­ses life over capital.