Thousands in Berlin go days without power and cell service after cables are set on fire

BERLIN — In its third full day, a widespread power failure in Berlin resulting from an arson attack started to tug on the nerves of tens of thousands of people making do without heat, electricity, cellphone service and warm food or drinks.

It also had them questioning their infrastructure and security. The power cuts started Saturday when firefighters were called to a fire at a cable transom that crosses a canal to connect one of Berlin’s biggest power plants to residents.

“A country like Russia will be carefully watching this to see where the critical points are,” said Jürgen Eicher, a 56-year-old resident. “I’d prefer it wasn’t quite so obvious.”

A far-left pro-environmental organization that calls itself the Vulkan Group posted a 4,163-word letter claiming responsibility that authorities said they were taking seriously. The group said the action was aimed at the energy industry, according to a copy of the letter published by Berlin Zeitung, a daily newspaper.

Initially, the cuts affected 45,000 homes and 2,200 businesses. By Monday night, the city had restored power to some neighborhoods, leaving 27,800 homes and 1,450 businesses in the southeastern part of Germany’s capital without power as temperatures stubbornly stayed below freezing and snow and ice blanketed the ground.

Schools and preschools extended their New Year’s vacations. The S-bahn, the city’s commuter train that serves as a lifeline to other districts, was out of commission until Monday, limiting public transport to buses and the subway, which was operating because it runs off a different grid, officials said, adding that lighting, digital information displays and elevators in local stations could be affected.

Authorities opened emergency shelters and other spaces where residents can warm up and recharge their phones. Hotels offered spare beds at discount rates for residents. Because the power outage also affected mobile communications, the fire department set up eight emergency call centers where residents can call the police, ambulances or the fire department.

City authorities predicted it would take six days, until Thursday, to reestablish power in all areas, a timeline that has shaken public confidence in the authorities’ ability to respond to such attacks.

“At first you think if you forgot to pay the power bill, then you check the heaters and notice they are cold and think it could be something else — but when you notice the phone service doesn’t work anymore, then you know it’s part of a bigger problem,” said Eicher. After he awoke Saturday to a cold apartment, he left home and started walking south toward the city border in search of information.

The power outage added fuel to the debate about the robustness of Germany’s critical infrastructure. As the fourth anniversary of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine nears, German authorities have warned the population that the country has become a target for sabotage attacks.

Authorities called on the federal prosecutor Monday to take over the case, an indication of how seriously they take the sabotage.

The perpetrators set fire to a cable bridge that contained five main power lines. They planted incendiary devices underneath the cables, according to Franziska Giffey, Berlin’s senator responsible for infrastructure, who is also a deputy mayor.

Last September, a power failure caused by a similar attack on infrastructure left 45,000 people in the capital’s southeast without power for 60 hours. Temperatures, though, were milder then, so that attack caused less disruption.

Dhanush Mutyala, 31, a student from Hyderabad, India, went to a city shelter after he learned about it when he managed to read the news Sunday night, after cellphone coverage was reestablished. Like others affected, he said that he would try to sleep at home but that the shelter was crucial for his days, as temperatures in his dorm room had dropped to 57 degrees Fahrenheit (14 degrees Celsius).

“It’s good to get some warm food and — if needed — accommodation,” he said. “But what’s really important is that we can charge up our devices.”

In a shelter inside an old cinema, Hilmar Dornemann, 85, held court in a circle of longtime residents, balancing a coffee cup and waiting for his cellphone to charge before heading back home to go to bed.

“Somehow we’ll mange this, too,” he said, noting that he had seen a lot in a lifetime as a native Berliner. “But we can complain,” he added, “and we can complain loudly.”