On our eleventh day in Berlin, we visited the Berlinische Galerie, an art museum with a collection exclusively focused on art made by individuals with some connection to Berlin. The pieces included within the museum represented several centuries of art and a wide variety of artistic style. Interestingly, the gallery is housed in a former glass window warehouse that existed when Germany was fearful of a nuclear attack (hence the steel columns indicative of warehouse architecture pictured below). This transformation of German space into art brought to my mind Sophie Charlotte’s effort to transform Germany’s Schloss Lietzenburg into a center for the arts, as recounted by Craig. I found it moving that a tradition initiated by Charlotte so long ago could still carry on in Germany today; that is, the transformation of German spaces into largely public artistic centers
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On our tenth day in Berlin, we spoke with both refugees and students with migrant backgrounds. Many of these individuals were Muslim, and many described various manifestations of islamophobia in Germany. One recurring theme was that groups like the AFD believe Muslims are violent, evil, and out to get Germany. These stories reminded me of Craig’s description of anti-semitism in the past. Namely, just as Muslims are now being criticized, Jews were once accused of, among other things, smelling, stabbing the army in the back in 1918 and helping impose a shameful peace settlement, of exploiting Christians in business, and even of cult-like, mysterious and nefarious conspiracy. It seems tragic that some Germans fail to recognize this similarity of islamophobia and anti-semitism. Fortunately, the Muslim community has not been intimidated into hiding. As can be seen below, in the graffitied words “Free Palestine,” the community continues to express itself despite hostility from some Germans.
On our ninth day in Berlin, we visited a mosque in former East Berlin (pictured below). We learned that the mosque was controversial when it was under construction because the community near its build-site took issue with the construction project. In particular, community members made such accusations as: “the Muslims want to build it under a flight path to shoot down planes,” or “next to a highway for easy getaways,” or “it’ll ruin the architecture of the neighborhood.” These accusations support the comparison made by O’Brien regarding treatment of East Germans and Muslim migrants. That is, both communities received distrust from other Germans. Whereas the East Germans were seen as potentially corrupted by the iron curtain, Muslims are seen as anti-liberal and threatening to the “German” way of life.
On our eighth day in Berlin, our research groups went on separate field excursions. My group was assigned the location of the Wannsee Conference. Next to the location was a lake and a hiking trail (the latter is pictured below). This trail’s beauty and placement right next to the Wannsee Conference (where the Nazi’s Final Solution was planned) reminded me of Schneider’s discussion in “Cinderella Berlin.” In particular, the contrast between the trial’s beauty and Wannsee’s ugly past brought to mind Schneider’s characterization of Berlin’s “weirdness.” That is, Berlin stands out in its ability to throw both modern beauty and historical tragedy at you all at once. One is kept on their toes, and interpretations of the gruesome past must necessarily struggle to coexist with the increasingly developed, often-lovely present.
On our fifth day in Berlin, we went on two walking tours, visited a mosque, and met with former Fulbright students who had visited America. A theme throughout these various activities was the experience of Muslim, migrant people in Germany. The photo taken below relates to this experience. In it, a woman in a headscarf can be seen playing with her child among other women, many of whom appear Caucasian. This open interaction between different cultures in a shared space demonstrates how far Germany has come from the era depicted in Ali: Fear Eats the Soul. That is, whereas in the movie Caucasian Germans avoided and shunned their culturally and ethnically different counterparts, the park scene below demonstrates an at least implicit acceptance of common space for all Germans.
On our third day in Berlin, we received a lecture from the former director of IES’s Berlin office, Barbara Gügold. As part of her lecture, Barbara described the presence and secrecy of the Stasi, East Germany’s secret police. This description of the Stasi reminded me of the omnipresent, harsh Stasi activity depicted in The Lives of Others. A contrast to this dictatorial, secretive policing was our tour of the Reichstag, which has a modern focus on transparent governance. In particular, the primary meeting room in the Reichstag (as pictured below) is surrounded by glass. The glass both allows for natural light and represents the new, open government of Germany.
On our second day in Berlin, we visited the Berlin Wall Memorial. Featured at the memorial was the last remaining portion of the wall preserved in its original state (including the militarized zone). Pictured below, this portion of the wall brought to my mind the film Goodbye Lenin. In particular, when first watching the film, I was surprised by the apparent culture shock experienced by East Germans when reunification occurred. I did not understand how a wall could so significantly prevent cultural exchange. After viewing the preserved portion of the militarized zone, however, the potential for the prevention of cultural exchange became obvious. As indicated by the guard tower below, the wall was extensive and very heavily guarded. One could not simply stand on one side and chat with their friend on the other.
On this first day in Berlin, we had the opportunity to view the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe from our tour bus. My past experience writing a research paper on the memorial made seeing it in person all the more powerful. The framing of the daunting, abstract columns against the picturesque city skyline disorients and overwhelms the viewer. This style of memorialization conforms to Schneider’s assertions in Berlin Now. That is, rather than inundating [Germans] with horrifying data” and eliciting guilt and shame (Schneider, 296), the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe allows for an individualized, contemplative experience. In this way, the memorial may better foster growth and reflection than some of its more gruesome and explicit counterparts.
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