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The Business Of Destruction At Germany's Anger Room

Two entrepreneurs have seized on a business idea first founded in Dallas, a place where people who want to dispense with their aggression can destroy set rooms with castoff furniture. But does it work?

Feel better yet?
Feel better yet?
Clemens Haug

HALLE — I destroyed the dishes swiftly and easily with a swing of the wooden baseball bat across the set table. Glasses and plates flew against the wall and broke into tiny pieces. Loud punk rock was emanating from the loudspeakers on the wall.

I turned next to the electrical appliances. A printer and a scanner were sitting on some drawers awaiting my wrath. All I had to do was think of the last time my computer crashed to feel a rush of rage. I lifted the bat above my head and brought it down with all my strength. Glass and plastic splintered before the innards fell out of the machines. All together, I had 30 minutes to destroy the contents of this room. I am in Halle an der Saale, Germany, and this is the country's first so-called Wutraum (Anger Room.)

Marcel Braun and Ronny Rühmland opened the Anger Room at the end of August in an empty building near the train station. "Hit your Way to Fitness," reads a sign by the entrance door. Inside are two spaces that visitors can destroy. They're equipped with furniture from the garbage dump, discarded TVs and computers. Old picture frames, vases and dishes round out the decor. For 89 euros, clients over 18 years of age can pulverize the lot. To do so, baseball bats and metal tools such as sledgehammers of different weights hang from the walls. Power tools like chainsaws are forbidden because the risk of injury is too high, Braun explains.

A half-hour in the Anger Room is supposed to help visitors rid themselves of their aggressive drives. During its first five months of existence, it has appealed mainly to people who need to keep a cool head at work — management consultants, an independent gastronome and a couple of doctoral candidates. One stressed-out doctor received a gift certificate to the Anger Room from her husband. "She told us that it had been a long time since she left for work feeling so relaxed as the day she visited us," says a satisfied Rühmland.

Aggression for "wellness"

Besides me, there are two day care workers here today, Martin and his girlfriend Colette. They had been looking for something special to celebrate Colette's 27th birthday. Martin has long been looking forward to this day, which he considers a "wellness" day. "I can finally work off all the aggression I've built up," he says grinning. But he doesn't appear to be particularly worked up. On the contrary, he's beaming like a kid who's been given permission to throw his toys around.

The couple dons overalls, helmets and protective glasses. They are soon laughing loudly as they destroy the contents of the space. "Cool! Solid wood!" Martin can be heard saying as he tackles a table with a sledgehammer. It requires several major blows before it finally collapses into pieces.

Braun ended up being an Anger Room supplier more by chance than design. The 32-year-old manager at DHL was surfing the Internet out of boredom, looking for new business ideas. "I was looking for models that didn't require a lot of starting capital," he says. That's when he stumbled upon the Anger Room in Dallas that had opened three years earlier. The concept was easy to implement. "We needed cheap space where making a lot of noise didn't pose a problem. We found it very quickly."

They also needed a regular supply of old furniture, which is Ronny Rühmland's domain. As an independent manual worker, he has contacts with several home clearance companies. Until now, they drove furniture nobody needed anymore to the garbage dump. Now they deliver it to the Anger Room. Rühmland and Braun don't have to pay for this service — only for the disposal of the furniture once it's been destroyed.

Orgy of destruction

In my space all that's left intact now are the big pieces of furniture. I set the baseball bat aside and pick up a sledgehammer. It's very heavy. To muster the necessary tension, I think of situations in daily life that make me angry. I think of drivers who park their cars in spaces meant for bicycles. Two hits of the sledgehammer and I've destroyed a chair.

Since it opened, the Anger Room has been booked two or three times a week, often by couples or groups who want to let off steam together. The Christmas season yielded sales of some 30 gift certificates, so visits are expected to increase in the first part of this year, Braun says.

So far, the pair hasn't had to advertise because the media have shown a lot of interest in the new enterprise. It's a good story: real people expressing strong emotion in a controlled environment. Anger and destruction calm people down. Can that be wrong?

Aristotle believed in the concept of catharsis. Insofar as the audience of an ancient tragedy felt sadness and empathy for the actors on stage, their souls were cleansed of negative feelings. Freud also believed that letting out negative feelings reduced aggression.

Anger breeds anger

But empirical research results introduce an element of doubt about this, says University of Potsdam social psychologist Barbara Krahé. "A whole series of experiments show that living aggression symbolically doesn't reduce feelings of anger, but in fact increases them," she says, citing U.S. research.

"When people get a good feeling from acting aggressively, they're going to want to behave that way again," she says. So she claims the Anger Room achieves the opposite of its declared goal. "If somebody wants to decrease their level of aggression, it's much more helpful to focus on positive feelings than on anger and resentment," Krahé says. She suggests thinking about something funny or petting a baby animal. That weakens feelings of anger and suppresses aggressive behavioral impulses.

By the time I get to the night table, I notice I don't have much anger left. I can hardly hold the hammer anymore. My shoulders and arms are that tired. The table just isn't reacting to my blows, and I start to feel admiration for the craft that went into making the piece, which makes me not want to destroy it. I've had enough destruction for one day.

In the adjacent space, Colette and Martin have been so thorough that everything is in pieces and a cloud of dust has settled. Laughing, the pair throw the remaining bits and pieces against the wall and smash them with the baseball bat. "That was a lot of fun," Martin says.

Obviously, entrepreneurs Braun and Rühmland don't want their visitors to start destroying things in their own homes. "That's what our Anger Room is for," Braun says. His business partner Rühmland knows that the effect doesn't last long. "If people want to maintain the feeling they have when they leave here, they have to come back after a few weeks."

When the orgy of destruction has ended, I'm given a bottle of water. I'm dead tired. Braun and Rühmland start throwing the detritus into the big container by the door. The container can hold the contents of 10 to 20 rooms before it's taken to the garbage dump. Marcel Braun says that, having tried it himself, he finds destroying things is difficult.

"I'm a fairly well-balanced guy," he says. "When you go to town on a piece of furniture with a sledgehammer, you really have to let yourself go. It's not easy."

To clean up, he turns the punk music off and puts on some love songs.

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Economy

Air Next: How A Crypto Scam Collapsed On A Single Spelling Mistake

It is today a proven fraud, nailed by the French stock market watchdog: Air Next resorted to a full range of dubious practices to raise money for a blockchain-powered e-commerce app. But the simplest of errors exposed the scam and limited the damage to investors. A cautionary tale for the crypto economy.

Sky is the crypto limit

Laurence Boisseau

PARIS — Air Next promised to use blockchain technology to revolutionize passenger transport. Should we have read something into its name? In fact, the company was talking a lot of hot air from the start. Air Next turned out to be a scam, with a fake website, false identities, fake criminal records, counterfeited bank certificates, aggressive marketing … real crooks. Thirty-five employees recruited over the summer ranked among its victims, not to mention the few investors who put money in the business.

Maud (not her real name) had always dreamed of working in a start-up. In July, she spotted an ad on Linkedin and was interviewed by videoconference — hardly unusual in the era of COVID and teleworking. She was hired very quickly and signed a permanent work contract. She resigned from her old job, happy to get started on a new adventure.


Others like Maud fell for the bait. At least ten senior managers, coming from major airlines, airports, large French and American corporations, a former police officer … all firmly believed in this project. Some quit their jobs to join; some French expats even made their way back to France.

Share capital of one billion 

The story began last February, when Air Next registered with the Paris Commercial Court. The new company stated it was developing an application that would allow the purchase of airline tickets by using cryptocurrency, at unbeatable prices and with an automatic guarantee in case of cancellation or delay, via a "smart contract" system (a computer protocol that facilitates, verifies and oversees the handling of a contract).

The firm declared a share capital of one billion euros, with offices under construction at 50, Avenue des Champs Elysées, and a president, Philippe Vincent ... which was probably a usurped identity.

Last summer, Air Next started recruiting. The company also wanted to raise money to have the assets on hand to allow passenger compensation. It organized a fundraiser using an ICO, or "Initial Coin Offering", via the issuance of digital tokens, transacted in cryptocurrencies through the blockchain.

While nothing obliged him to do so, the company owner went as far as setting up a file with the AMF, France's stock market regulator which oversees this type of transaction. Seeking the market regulator stamp is optional, but when issued, it gives guarantees to those buying tokens.

screenshot of the typo that revealed the Air Next scam

The infamous typo that brought the Air Next scam down

compta online

Raising Initial Coin Offering 

Then, on Sept. 30, the AMF issued an alert, by way of a press release, on the risks of fraud associated with the ICO, as it suspected some documents to be forgeries. A few hours before that, Air Next had just brought forward by several days the date of its tokens pre-sale.

For employees of the new company, it was a brutal wake-up call. They quickly understood that they had been duped, that they'd bet on the proverbial house of cards. On the investor side, the CEO didn't get beyond an initial fundraising of 150,000 euros. He was hoping to raise millions, but despite his failure, he didn't lose confidence. Challenged by one of his employees on Telegram, he admitted that "many documents provided were false", that "an error cost the life of this project."

What was the "error" he was referring to? A typo in the name of the would-be bank backing the startup. A very small one, at the bottom of the page of the false bank certificate, where the name "Edmond de Rothschild" is misspelled "Edemond".

Finding culprits 

Before the AMF's public alert, websites specializing in crypto-assets had already noted certain inconsistencies. The company had declared a share capital of 1 billion euros, which is an enormous amount. Air Next's CEO also boasted about having discovered bitcoin at a time when only a few geeks knew about cryptocurrency.

Employees and investors filed a complaint. Failing to find the general manager, Julien Leclerc — which might also be a fake name — they started looking for other culprits. They believe that if the Paris Commercial Court hadn't registered the company, no one would have been defrauded.

Beyond the handful of victims, this case is a plea for the implementation of more secure procedures, in an increasingly digital world, particularly following the pandemic. The much touted ICO market is itself a victim, and may find it hard to recover.

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