Cold War Intrigue & Two Memorials in Berlin

At midnight New Year's Eve, Berlin came alive with fireworks and celebrations. From Gregor's fourth floor apartment, we watched numerous private displays around Berlin. Though no official fireworks displays were held, citizens were allowed to buy and light off fireworks privately. By 1 a.m., most of the festivities were over and I drifted back to sleep. The next morning, the streets throughout Berlin were littered with fall out, but the city itself was quiet and tranquil. Most shops in the eastern part of Berlin were closed.

My first destination New Year's Day was Checkpoint Charlie. After World War II, Berlin was divided into four sectors with the American, British, and French sectors in the west, and the Soviet sector in the east. Reparations and denazification were of central focus until 1947, when the Marshall Plan was enacted to assist Europe in its recovery. The plan was extended to West Germany, and though it had to follow a strict disarmament plan, it began a steady, strong recovery. East Germany however, under the control of the Soviets, rejected the plan. The tension between the United States and the Soviet Union grew into the Cold War, so named because of its subversiveness and its failure to escalate into outright war, though at times, it had come close.

Leaving the American Sector at Checkpoint Charlie

Entering the American Sector at Checkpoint Charlie

Between 1947 and 1961, an estimated three million people circumvented East German emigration laws prior to the construction of the Inner German border––the Iron Curtain––which separated greater West and East Germany. The Antifaschistischer Schutzwall––Anti Fascist Protective Wall––was erected in 1961 by the German Democratic Republic (GDR). Designed to protect the “will of the people” and allow them to build a socialist state free from fascist intervention, the Berlin Wall prevented the emigration and defection of those living in the East German communist bloc. The most infamous symbol of the Cold War, the concrete barrier kept Berliners in the east apart from their brethren and families in the west, isolated from the world, and under the control of the Soviets. 

Section of the Berlin Wall Stands as a Reminder of Cold War Separation

In June 1963, US President John F. Kennedy visited Berlin for the 15th anniversary of the Berlin blockade. In one of his most famous speeches, President Kennedy said to the more than one million Berliners who gathered at Schoneberger town hall to hear him speak, "All free men, wherever they may live, are citizens of Berlin, and therefore, as a free man, I take pride in the words 'Ich bin ein Berliner'!"

In a speech made at the Brandenburg Gate in 1987, US President Ronald Reagan demanded that Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev remove the barrier that had separated Berliners since 1961, “Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate. Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” In 1989, growing political complexities and a decline in communist support lead to the wall finally coming down. On 09 November 1989, the GDR finally allowed free passage between east and west Berlin. Celebrations were held and people began chipping away at the wall. The fall of the Berlin Wall paved the way for the German reunification process. On 03 October 1990, German unification was announced in front of the Reichstag.

The day before German unification, a section of the wall was deemed a historical monument. At least 136 people had been killed or died trying to cross the Berlin section of the Inner-German wall. More than 600 people were killed trying to escape altogether––some were shot and killed by GDR border guards, others drowned, some were mortally injured, and still others committed suicide upon their capture. In August 1998, the Berlin Wall Memorial was dedicated to the victims of the Berlin Wall and in memory of the city's division.

Berlin Wall Monument

The city was still quiet as I walked the streets, my thoughts uninterrupted; it was a time of solemn reflection. There had been a lot of bloodshed and tears in the streets of Berlin. My mood carried my feet and I walked down the road to one more historical site, Berlin's Holocaust Memorial.

In my traditional wanderlust style, somewhat lost but mostly free with nothing but time on my hands, I meandered through the streets of Berlin. It was cold, but it was nothing a hot cup of coffee couldn't cure. Though most of the city was still asleep, Starbucks could be counted on, so I kept my eyes peeled for one until I stumbled on a massive graveyard of steel coffins. At first, I wasn't sure what I was looking at––there were no signs, no markers, no barriers, no entrance fees––it was a life-sized abstract that reminded me of Arlington Cemetery. I stood at the corner, observing what others were doing before I stepped inside.

The design was linear and sleek, modern and cold. I walked through the field of stone, each one cut to the exact same length and width as the next, creating a perfect grid pattern, but they were not the same height, which created a dynamic, three dimensional effect. Even more intriguing was the ground––it was not a level, flat surface. Instead, it was like a sea of rolling waves, the earth rising and falling beneath my feet as though I was a ship at sea, sailing in a vast ocean of death. For a moment I felt like a child playing in a corn maze, but the momentary delight was quickly replaced by a sickening feeling. I could see others as they explored the crevasse-like tunnels and in a flash, they would disappear, never to be seen again. Yet strangely, I felt intensely vulnerable and naked, as though I could never successfully hide within the maze––every path was open at either end, every intersection, open at all four ends. It was as though you could hide without hiding and be found with trying. I stood for several moments in the deepest, flattest, darkest part of the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. The effect was chilling––the silence released the horror. The victims here were nameless and faceless and so too were the perpetrators––the horrors inflicted on the more than 6 million Jews however, was deafening.

Within the Monument

Admittedly, I was somewhat confused when I first arrived at the memorial; I was not entirely sure what I was supposed to do and wondered what I was missing. The feelings came later, when I reflected on my experience. I later learned that there is an underground exhibition at the memorial and that the memorial itself was rather controversial. I also learned that I wasn't alone in my confusion––the depth of abstract may prove illusive and inadequate for some, leaving visitors with more questions than answers, but perhaps, now that I think about it, this may have been what American architect Peter Eisenman's had intended all along.

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe