So far, it has been looming from a far distance, the big top by the seaside. Like a hard-to-climb peak it overshadows the five dilapidated villas at the beach of Heiligendamm. Their chipped white paint only reminds of the Art Nouveau pearls they used to be. In the oldest beach town of Germany, where once hordes of tourists trailed their feet through the sand, there are now only screeching seagulls. The village has been closed off hermetically with a 12-kilometer-long barbed-wire fence. Marine cruisers are patrolling the seaside. Heiligendamm is a ghost town.

It’s just as quiet at the base camp of the G8 summit this Saturday, four days talks between the most powerful politicians in the world start. The streets in Rostock are almost empty. Some city kids hang around at the Doberaner Square. At eight in the morning small police units stand by casually, about 50 meters from the shop windows that are barred with thin wooden poles. They still banter leisurely. “If someone crashes into that, even the wood won’t help any longer.” But there isn’t really happening anything here. Who still wants to go to Rostock?

Tom Morello does. But he must, so to say. After all, the mass demonstration against the G8 summit will take place here in Rostock today. Organizers expect 100,000 protesters, they told the municipal authority. And the big closing concert will be at the harbor later tonight. Culture against war. Starring that Tom Morello, who is now wandering through the deserted streets in the direction of the concert’s location. The ex-Rage Against The Machine singer is going solo nowadays – and alone he is also now, heading to the harbor. “Where are the people?” The police officers shrug their shoulders. 

The first are just arriving at the station, when the city is still peacefully asleep. The regional trains spit out masses of demonstrators onto the tracks. It becomes impossible to move though the underground passage system of the station. Flagpoles hit the ceilings, and already polyphonic whistles and drumbeats echo from the walls. In every nook and corner men and women huddle together, smearing mascara and kohl on their faces and preparing themselves for the demonstration, as if they were going to a big party. “We clowns have traveled to the Wendland, ” a woman says, who calls herself “Egbert, the sorrowful.” “Because one can only laugh about politicians today,” she says, and she paints the corners of her mouth even a lot further downwards. It is a derisive smile, which will be chiseled on her face throughout the day.

The masses are gathering by now on the station’s forecourt. From a stage the first exhortations blare out at them – Debt relief for the poorest countries on earth, equality for men and women or the fight against Aids are being propagated here. The gigantic banners of the demonstrators reflect the words coming out of the loudspeakers.

In an extremely poised manner, Hans-Christian Ströbele pushes his bike through the crowds. The chair ad interim of the Green Party at the Bundestag (the Lower House of Parliament in Germany) admits that he took the bike from Berlin to Rostock by car. But that’s exactly the statement it should be. After all, “what the heads of states are doing since years is only a big stage direction, in which the good for the world is being negotiated.” But when you look closer, “then you can see that because of that nothing at all has changed, and that it has even become worse for the poorest countries,” he says and moves on through the crowds, which are now gathered on the slope in front of the station’s terminal. From there you can see a sea of rainbow-colored “Peace” flags, human-sized red balloons and eight oversized papier-mâché politicians, making their way on wooden stilts to the front of the demonstration train. “80.000 globalization adversaries,” organizers will later declare, “have made their point: that we are not being governed by eight in the world. The police bring this estimate down to 30,000. The streets are full in any case, as the train sets into motion at 1 p.m. from the station in the direction of the city harbor. There, the demonstrators that have arrived by car will join.

With loud yells, the G8 adversaries peacefully move through the old Hanseatic city. The air is full of a rare spirit of change, as the masses yell out their anger to the wind and the clouds. Most of them agree that they can change the world here and now. Atti Omorou came to the Baltic Sea from Togo. In broken English he fulminates against the governments. “When they ignore this here, it shows that they don’t care about people. They behave as if they stand above us and can piss down on us. But this here shows that no-one tolerates that!“

However, anti-globalization protest creates an appetite. American fast-food restaurant and a French gas station have not barred themselves and counted on the demands of such a mass demonstration. In swarms the protesters rush in, and nourish themselves with coke, beer and burgers.  “You need to live off something,” a youngster with a black mask says a little irritated, and with the back of his hand sweeps away the ketchup from his mouth.

Proceeding peacefully, the demonstration train arrives at the port site after two hours. The shattered window panes of the savings bank are declared as collateral damage. But then, still, the situation escalates. “We thought we had the worst behind us, when we arrived at the harbor,” Werner Rätz will later say when he draws his conclusions at the evening’s press conference. The Attac activist has co-organized the demonstration and can be held responsible for the behavior of some trouble makers. “We have completely underestimated the escalation dynamics and we were only prepared for the forefront. That was a big mistake.”

The reason for the “worst street rampage in Germany since twenty years” as the newspapers will call it the next morning, was the encroachment of some disguised demonstrators in a police car, that was in the harbor for traffic security. “A few militants have shattered the windows. The cops in the car were severely injured,” says Rätz. “That is an unforgivable deed, that we strongly denounce.”

Then the police strike back. With several units of hundred men, the armored security forces encircle the square and wait for the “black block.” Disguised with black hooded sweaters, black pants and Muslim-style scarves, they steer directly towards the policemen. The first stones are flying, while a big part of the peaceful demonstrators is still arriving at the square. It is an image of heaven and hell, not touching each other, but aware of each other’s existence. On the big stage speakers from the entire world are making their concluding remarks. More than 10,000 people cheer, when they find their demands for a better world affirmed. They don’t notice that in the background, tiles are being lifted from the pavement and being repurposed as projectiles. After the stones there are bottles, followed by Molotov cocktails. It is still peaceful before the stage, when the first water cannons start. Juli, the band from Giessen, is on stage. Eva Briegel looks a little scared and bemused at the black fog, that rises up through the trees on the other site of the street. “I am not like you,” she starts singing with a soft voice. It is from the song “Rain and Sea” that she is now sprinkling onto the demonstrators. “I thought, I can just let it be, but it doesn’t work. It was a little exaggerated,” she sings, while the first amounts of water come down on the leftist extremists. The situation seems to calm down a little. The police demonstrate its power, while the protestors go on rallying against water scarcity in the Third World. On stage, Walden Bello, a Philippine sociology professor and winner of the alternative Nobel Prize, calls for protest against the Iraq war. This summon is misinterpreted by some demonstration participants.

Panicked, the first mothers with small children in their arms leave the square, running in all directions from it, as if their lives were at stakes. Between the mass of friendly demonstrators in front of the stage and the 1000 rioters in the background yawns a gap of 20 meters. Again and again the announcements from the stage are being drowned by the propellers of the police helicopters, circling right above the square by now.

Behind the stage Werner Rätz tries to explain what is happening just outside on the streets. “This always moves to and fro. When the police back off, the militants go right after them. When they allow themselves a break, the police answer with pepper spray and water bombs.” His phone rings continuously throughout his speech and he speaks with the operational management. “We must somehow get the peace back now.”

Outside, some disguised demonstrators are carrying in tiles. They have driven the policemen into a corner of a narrow alley. They knocked over a van and use it with several garbage cans as a barrier behind which they hide. These are scenes not unlike a street war. “We don’t have the spirit of Gleneagles here,” a speaker on the stage shouts into his microphone, referring to the peaceful protests at the G8 summit in 2005. “This is the spirit of Genua 2001!” Back then, demonstrators were killed during the summit assembly. Some of the explosive mood, now also ignites before the “Kogge”, a conventional, rustic port bar. The garbage cans and the car are ablaze. The air is thick with the biting smoke of the flames, mixed with the aggressive teargas of the police, which is carried through the streets by the sea wind. Many police officers and demonstrators take off, to wash out their irritated eyes. The announcements have ended by now.

Only 500 meters away Mark Tavassol, bass player of the Berlin band “Wir sind Helden” (We Are Heroes) sits in front of the television in his hotel room. From there, he cannot see anything from the riots, but he knows that the images from the news are taking place right in front of his door. He knows that these images are standing between him and the stage. Still he doesn’t want to go there yet. Until his performance at 10 pm there are still a couple of hours left.

Tom Morello is in the middle of his performance is, singing “My land is your land” with his acoustic guitar. He has already found his “people.” Daniel is among them. The Westphalian has come to Rostock for a weekend with his Christian community. He is talks with his fellow travelers about what is on the program for tomorrow, Sunday. He hasn’t learned about the riots yet. “So tomorrow at nine, we’re leaving for Doberan for church.” His French friends nod. They are still thrilled about the workshops they had this morning. After all it is important that they take the protest back home. “We have obtained super good insights here about what we, every one of us can do in our community, at school, in church or for themselves, can do. These are such small things that can yet change and improve the world.” A banner waves above their heads.  “This is just a one-day demonstration. This is just an impulse,” Daniel says and he looks forward to the workshop about social poverty after church tomorrow.

Mark Tavassol also leaves the hotel with his band members. He drives through streets that are covered with pavement tiles. “There was blood. Even a lot of blood. That really sucks. That is not the meaning of the cause.” The situation has calmed down, under the soft sounds of Tom Morello. The extreme rioters have scattered into the direction of the inner city, and the police are backing off. “We can now proceed with our regular cultural program,” Werner Rätz tells his colleagues through the microphone.

“Dance with us you scatterbrains,” Mark’s band member Judith Holofernes greets the circa 6000 G8 adversaries, stating that she doesn’t let herself be chased away by the recklessness of a few. And with accompaniment of wood instruments, she starts: “Finally a reason to panic!“ Mark’s bass beats the last sad and scared thoughts out of the heads of the crowds before the stage. They clap, jump, dance and sing energetically and sing along with Holofernes’song about the scatterbrains and celebrate a big party. There is no more smoke in the background, except from the chimneys of the ships in the harbor. The place is adorned with big banners of Greenpeace: G8-Act Now!

Out of view of the activities on stage the cleaning up starts in the streets. Bottles and cans with Cyrillic inscriptions are between the stones. “It has all been organized,” says a police spokesperson. “There were not only German, but mainly English, Polish, Scandinavian and Russian extremists.” 500 of them have been injured during the riots. 433 of those were policemen. Even the last conclusion of Werner Rätz is sobering, when he stands with tired eyes and hanging shoulders once more in front of the press. “We didn’t succeed to have a successful demonstration from start to finish.” The demonstration went very well, everything as planned. Then people were overrun and overwhelmed by brutal violence, which spread around. “We are now getting together to work on it. After all, we still have a week here.” And while the Heroes still sing outside “Aren’t you tired?,” the summit strikers are going back to tents in their base camps. After all, they still have long way to go to the summit.

Simon Kremer is the German UN Millennium Campaign correspondent