ABSTRACT
November 9, 1989, was a major watershed in post-war world history. Around the globe millions watched their television screens to see the Berlin Wall at last begin to come down. The euphoria of Berliners freely dancing along that concrete outcrop of the Cold War, breaking it up with hammers and crowbars, was palpable. It was stunningly appropriate that such mundane tools of demolition signalled the start of an all-pervasive transformation of the world order. The everyday objects took on new ideological meanings, in good old Brechtian fashion. Maybe his ghost was among the revellers, whooping it up on the wall. More probably, though, it was hanging back, puffing on a ruminative cigar, wondering what kind of protest the new political order might demand.
