These days, Berlin seems to be embroiled in battles over every one of its major public green spaces: development on Tempelhofer Feld, fencing at Görlitzer Park, a karaoke crackdown at Mauerpark. And on the border of Kreuzberg and Schöneberg, the long fight over the planned high-rises at Park am Gleisdreieck has taken a new turn.
Residents have been attempting to resist the development of Berlin’s triangular former rail junction, which contains the six-hectare Gleisdreieck Park, ever since the project was initially floated by CA Immo/Vivico in 2005 and later taken over by COPRO in 2014. Now, after years of consultations and legal manoeuverings, the project’s southern section – two of the seven proposed towers – was expected to move toward a decisive vote this month. But campaigners now say the vote may not happen at all before the 2026 elections, pushing the fight into an uncertain future.
Evan Herrick, a longtime Schöneberg resident who joined the group ‘Save Gleisdreieck’ after spotting a flyer a few years ago, says that the shift has changed the mood. “We’ve been meeting with SPD politicians this week and are hearing that doubts about the project within the SPD are now such that the vote may no longer take place at all within this parliamentary term,” he explains, citing a senior party source who asked not to be named. “So maybe not such a dramatic moment for the protest right now after all, but very good news for everyone who is against the project.”
For Herrick, the reasons for opposition remain clear. Pointing to the park’s eastern edge, he notes of the development: “It’ll be 90 metres high, 24 stories, and it’s literally 10 metres from the edge of the park. So it’s really gonna degrade the quality of the experience of being in the park.”
That sense of scale – how it would feel to sit on the grass under a wall of glass – has become a centrepiece of the group’s political tours, which they’ve been running weekly to keep politicians and the public informed on what the development project might mean for those who live near and enjoy the park. Inside Jules B-Part café, on the northern edge of the park, activists even place a tiny figurine beside the wooden site model to show how small a person looks beneath the volumes. “If you like going to the park, it’s gonna change your experience,” Herrick says.
Towers and Glowers
The project’s history is long and twisty. The current ‘Urbane Mitte’ scheme has been in motion since 2014, when a workshop process kicked off the planning that led to an international design competition. And although the immediate fight feels new, the planning roots reach back to 1992, when Gleisdreieck was conceived as an ecological buffer for Potsdamer Platz and Leipziger Platz: what Save Gleisdreieck calls a “fresh-air corridor” between Tiergarten and the city’s southern outskirts. A 1994 agreement between the city and Deutsche Bahn earmarked land for that purpose. But as opponents point out, this function would be almost entirely compromised by the high-rise buildings.
There’s no need to build any more office buildings – people are doing home office, there’s a huge amount of empty office space in Berlin. Everyone knows this.
What’s on the table now – 119,000 square metres of floor space across seven towers, roughly 70% offices and 30% commercial space – feels out of step to many. Green Party parliamentarian Katrin Schmidberger put it bluntly in a recent letter of support to concerned local residents: “In times of a worsening climate crisis, increasing heat waves and massive land consumption, what is needed are not sealed high-rise towers, but green spaces for social housing and spaces for culture, education and the common good.” She points to “approximately 1.8 million square metres of vacancy” and calls the project “towers that only promise [financial] returns”.
Herrick agrees. “There’s no need to build any more office buildings – people are doing home office, there’s a huge amount of empty office space in Berlin. Everyone knows this.”
The group intentionally avoids prescribing alternatives to the construction plan, an undertaking that Herrick suggests would lead to political divisions. Instead, they present a unified front: the development plans, as they stand now, must not move forward.
The campaign stresses the park’s role as a common good. In an August 2025 email to lawmakers, a local resident and psychologist who has used the park for four decades described it as an emotional anchor. “Gleisdreieck Park is more than just a green space; it is a place where people of all ages, from different cultures, from near and far, come together to create a peaceful atmosphere that serves as a place of refuge for many.” The towers, he warned, would “undermine this sense of home and stability” and symbolise “confinement, control, and pressure to perform”.
Locals also worry that existing venues like Jules B-Part, a café-cum-beer garden within the nearby B-Part complex, could be displaced or disrupted by construction phasing. Jules B-Part isn’t just a café: in its 3,000 square metres of space it houses coworking areas, an outdoor sports park and art galleries, and also hosts community-driven events such as the African Food Festival and Bite Club. According to Herrick, the restaurant and think-lab building beside it would likely have to close under the current plans – meaning the loss of more than just green views, but of gathering places already woven into park life.
Gleisdreieck Park is more than just a green space; it is a place where people of all ages, from different cultures, from near and far, come together to create a peaceful atmosphere that serves as a place of refuge for many.
Beyond atmosphere, critics cite engineering risks. Berlin has already seen transit chaos from nearby builds – from U-Bahn closures at Leipziger Platz during the Mall of Berlin construction to the prolonged shutdown of the 865-metre ‘Orphan Tunnel’ linking the U8 and U5. At Gleisdreieck, construction would occur within metres of century-old tunnels and a tangle of U- and S-Bahn lines. As one technical summary warns: “If something goes wrong, the long-distance and regional trains, the S1, S2, S25 and S26 suburban trains, as well as the U1 and U2 lines, could be affected. Who is responsible for this, or who will pay for the damage?”
Other worries include shading of terraces, wind tunnels, sealed soil, sewer strain and bird strikes on the towering glass façades. Even the branding has come under fire: architecture professor Klaus Schäfer calls the use of “urban Mitte”, or “urban centre” misleading, arguing that urbanity “doesn’t arise from the juxtaposition of numerous high-rise buildings” and instead makes a “plea for small-scale urban development”. Mocking the development plans, Herrick jokes, “You should quote me on this: it will become another Potsdamer Platz. If you like Potsdamer Platz, then this is for you.” For anyone who missed his irony, he adds, “anyone who’s been to Potsdamer Platz knows it’s just a disaster.”
Holding Space
Until recently, the project’s trajectory pointed towards a committee test in September and a plenary vote in October. Now, with SPD hesitation mounting, activists see the postponement as a reprieve, if not yet a victory. On the ground, their campaign continues with weekly or biweekly meetings, tours and thousands of flyers thrust into the hands of unsuspecting park-goers. “The overwhelming feedback is people are against it,” Herrick says. “In my own experience, one in a hundred people – as the project as it is now – think it’s a good idea.”
Former Schöneberg district mayor Elisabeth Ziemer has also joined the chorus, calling the plan “completely outdated” and warning city leaders that “by approving this draft development plan, you will further fuel political disenchantment”.
Supporters of the towers emphasise reputational risk – Berlin must honour deals with investors, they argue, and keep the city investable. Herrick and Save Gleisdreieck counter that the contract no longer holds, and the Greens point to legal opinions suggesting that public interest should outweigh these financial concerns.
For Herrick and his fellow campaigners, the roadmap is simple: keep pressure on politicians, keep the free informational tours running, and, if approvals ever come, prepare a lawsuit alongside the nonprofit NaturFreunde Berlin e.V. “If the building plan does get approved, then we’re going to sue the investor,” Herrick says.
In the end, the ongoing case always returns to its first principles: the park’s atmosphere, history and role as a shared space. As that longtime resident wrote in his letter: “Gleisdreieck Park acts as a social catalyst… These informal contacts strengthen trust and solidarity within the neighbourhood, reduce loneliness and promote Berlin’s social capital.”
For now, campaigners will see something rare in Berlin politics: a pause. How long it’ll last remains uncertain. But the park, still a sunny spot free from the shadows of luxury office space, keeps drawing people to its lawns. And the flyers still boil the fight down to one line: “Save our Gleisi!”.
- More info at Save Gleisdreieck
