This past weekend, the students had a break from coursework to explore Paris or other European cities. I traveled to Berlin to see a friend of mine who now lives there. It was my first time in Germany, and like Claire, one of our students who also visited Berlin this weekend, I found the differences from Paris striking. You can read about Claire’s impressions here.
Traces of war and its aftermath are visible everywhere in Berlin. Buildings and monuments are scarred by bullets and artillery. Allied bombings damaged and destroyed much of the city, but importantly, many remains of the city’s landmarks have been preserved to serve as reminders of architectural and artistic accomplishments, but also of the country’s Nazi past.
Inside the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, built in the 1890s, you can see some of the beautiful mosaics that decorated the interior. But there are large sections missing on the ceiling and on the floor. In fact, most of the church itself is missing because of a 1943 bombing raid. A display inside explains the history of the church and its preservation. When the structure was scheduled for demolition in the 1950s, the people of Berlin protested, wishing instead to preserve it as a monument to peace and reconciliation. Another example of this type of memorialization is the former railway station Anhalter Bahnhof. During World War II, the station was used to deport tens of thousands of Jews. Today, though, all that is left standing is the central section of the front entrance.
I also visited the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, which opened in 2005. Looking at this Holocaust memorial, I was struck by its grayness and its simplicity—it consists of 2,711 large cement blocks of various heights—some at ankle level and some that tower over visitors—spread out in a grid over five acres. The ground on which the blocks stand is hilly, and when you enter, it seems at first like a maze. Yet there is really nowhere to hide; you are exposed at all times. I was visiting the memorial with two seven-year-olds, both of whom really wanted to play hide-and-seek. I felt somewhat guilty participating in what seemed like a disrespectful activity and I mentioned this to some friends. One of them, Bethany Keenan, a professor at Coe College, is also leading a study abroad program in Europe this summer and had just been to the memorial. She told me that their tour guide had explained that such games “. . . might be disrespectful but they could also be life-affirming and celebratory, and as such can be considered a reappropriation of the space against the Nazis. If someone has a problem with hide-and-seek or other behaviors there, they should speak up. The way the site is produced puts the onus on the bystander to comment—and the lesson that bystanders must say something and stop things they disapprove of was the main message that most of the memorial sites in Berlin were aiming for.”
The consequences of the aftermath of war are also striking, particularly since there are portions of the Berlin Wall scattered throughout the city. Construction of the Wall began in 1961 to cut off the stream of refugees fleeing west, and it stood for twenty-eight years as a symbol of the division of Germany and the Cold War. A large section of the Wall stands intact at the Topography of Terror site. A nearby sign explains that by 1989, 136 people had lost their lives at the Wall, shot down by GDR (German Democratic Republic) border guards. The accompanying outdoor exhibit provides information about the topics such as the rise of the Nazi Party, book burnings, and the persecution of Jews.
One of the things that I was not expecting in Berlin was how much World War II has been commercialized. Tourist shops sell postcards depicting tanks, war planes, and soldiers; you can buy “authentic” pieces of the Berlin Wall and T-shirts advertising Checkpoint Charlie (a well-known crossing point between East and West Berlin during the Cold War). You can pay to have your passport stamped with the official Checkpoint Charlie stamps at a section of the Berlin Wall. Much of the memory of war has turned kitsch.
Seeing the evidence of destruction everywhere I looked was disturbing. What struck me the most during my visit, however, was the continual threat of danger. I went with my friend to pick up his daughters from their elementary school. On the way back, we walked through a park that they go through every day. Posted signs warn visitors to keep off the grassy areas, not to maintain the lawns, but because there are still unexploded bombs there. World War II can still claim victims.
Our tour guide for our visit to the World War I battlefields of the Somme remarked that it is clear when a war begins but that it is never clear when it is over, or who its last victims will be. In the Somme, much of the land is now unusable for farming—nearly one hundred years later—because of all of the lead in the ground. In these areas, they let the forests grow. For the same reason, it is unsafe to eat the fish from the river. Each year, people are uncovering shells, artifacts, and human remains. For example, when we stopped for lunch at a restaurant in Pozières, we learned that the man serving us (who is also a battlefield guide) had just two years before unearthed the body of an Australian soldier, along with a number of relics, at Mouquet Farm. You can read about the story here. For some families, such discoveries answer questions and bring peace. Other families will never know what became of their loved ones. For them, is the war ever really over?
My visit to Berlin was at once difficult and inspiring. Signs of destruction and violence are omnipresent, but as Claire mentioned in her post, construction and renovation projects are underway all over the city. The past remains visible and serves as a reminder to us of the horrors of war, but also of human strength and perseverance.