Berlin Stories

  Let’s focus on Berlin. Modern yet old. Beautiful yet depressing. A city of contrast and one of complex political significance to more than 4 different governments in less than a century. Nothing tall and hypermodern about the city skyline, well maybe I’ll count that 300 meter TV tower. But apart from that everything feels just like a normal city. Completely different from older European cities like Prague. 

After a war, national memorials are usually built commemorating soldiers who participated in battle, like the Yasukuni Shrine in Japan and the British Normandy Memorial in France; but in Germany, there are none. Not a single one dedicated to commemorating the individuals who had sacrificed themselves for the sake of war, and for the country. When we look back at history, there are times of good and bad, sometimes with a very blurry line between them. There is no definite “good guy” or “villain” role in history, and it is more than essential to interpret it with close analysis and with doubt. The German Empire lost the First World War in 1914, and the German Reich saw its defeat in 1945. In our textbook they referred to it as an Allied Victory, and according to the perspective of the victors it marked the end of Prussian/German dominance in Europe until 2001. However, from the perspective of the defeated nations, things take a different turn. When we went to the Reichstag on the first day the infographics portray a devastated Germany that was defeated twice by the West: “The war ended with the surrender of the German Empire/German Reich”. No gimmicks. No excessive wording. Straight and simple just like that. 

The Reichstag is notable for serving as the German parliament building ever since 1889, and has experienced its wild ride of history. Used by the German Empire and the Weimar Republic, the Reichstag was later then set ablaze by Hitler in 1933, which then marked the end of German democracy and the beginning of a dictatorial fascist regime. Despite being reconstructed and modernized in the 1960s the building was unused by both the FRD (West Germany) and the DDR (East Germany), with the Berlin Wall running straight through the backdoor of the parliament building. It was finally restored as Germany’s main parliament building after reunification in 1999. The history of this relatively insignificant building holds significant value though. I tend to see it as a symbol of German democracy and people power. The loss of pluralism and representation ironically results in the destruction or misuse of the building, with the establishment of the German Reich indicating the start of a new era of dictatorship. The fact that neither side of the Cold War used the Reichstag is also ironic, since it literally symbolizes the isolation and splitting of the German population. 

The Topography of Terror museum is located right next to the historical SS and Gestapo central command of the Nazis. What stands there now is a flat grassy plain with the lonely museum plopped right next to it with the empty streets of Niederkirchnerstraße running in parallel. The remnants of the basement of this building still remains somewhat intact, and its part of the museum exhibition that documents the measures and torture methods used by the SS/Gestapo to extert information from political opponents. Everything even remotely connected to this building was removed top to bottom. Ironically, the Berlin Wall ran through along the streets in front of the building and the remnants of the wall are still preserved with cracks and holes here and there. So therefore you get a glimpse at three different phases of history: a period of fascism, a period of soviet communism, and a period of remembrance and reconstruction. 

Just north of the city center at Potsdamer Platz is the unusually large memorial covering over 19,000 square meters dedicated to the Jewish people that died in the holocaust. Emotionless, dark, and cold blocks of concrete spread out across an uneven surface of stone brick hills and valleys like a grid. Similarly the memorial is extremely accessible from both sides, open morning till night, and is also right next to the popular Brandenburg Gate. So what do these blocks symbolize/connotate? Peter Eisenman didn’t give us an answer. This lack of a centralized idea or message that one gets from walking past the countless stone obelisk towering over them allows for more than one message to be expressed, a message that one might feel more personal to themselves. Unlike other conventional memorials a unique and special means of remembrance or commemoration is portrayed here. Perhaps the flat stone blocks represent funeral caskets, or surfaces in which the names of such murdered Jews were to be inscribed on but were never identified after the war. I could go forever on here, but the purpose of this memorial still remains the same. Forever peace to the Jews, Homosexuals, Disabled, Political Opponents, and others that died under the fascist Nationalist Socialist regime. 🕯

The Strassenbahn took us heading straight east to the outskirts of East Berlin. Unlike Prague, there were still very clear remains of communist administration in many parts of Berlin. Essentially there were rows and rows of regularly arranged apartment blocks that stretched for miles when viewed on top of the TV tower. I used to enjoy Brutalist architecture, but when comprehending these cold-blooded buildings in front of my very own eyes, it just seemed, depressing. Replicating patterns of windows that seemed like it was imprinted onto the sides of concrete slabs by a giant stamp. The contrast was real, very much real. It took a bit of walking when we finally arrived at Berlin-Hohenschönhausen Memorial, a historical prison used by the East German Secret Police, or Stasi for short. Apart from the intimidating prison gate there isn’t much to look at, but it doesn't take long for the horrors to reveal itself underneath and within the few buildings in the complex. 

The site was used by the Soviets after 1946 both as a transfer point and a prison for criminals but mostly political enemies. They constructed a large cafeteria that was later turned into a holding area which was dubbed “the submarine”. There’s a reason behind this name. Inside the underground complex are endless tunnels and corners, with countless cells comparable to the SCIE dorms but without the beds and accommodations. It was dark, it was miserable, and it was damp, hence the name submarine. The Soviets contained prisoners in conditions like these, and used a variety of measures/physical torture to force them into confessing crimes they never did. Some inmates were stripped off from all their clothing and placed in a cell with an open window in the winter, in which temperatures could drop down to negative 20 degrees. Some inmates were thrown in cells next to boiler rooms and some even in rooms they couldn’t even sit and were forced to stand/kneel for 20 hours straight. A question that might arise from here might be about the consequences of confessing, as supposedly anything could be better than enduring physical torture. Well, upon confessing to your fake crimes and signing an empty piece of paper that could have anything written on it afterwards, there is a decent chance that you’ll be packed in a van, sent to a sham trial, awarded with a life sentence/death penalty, and be sent to an actual prison with worst living conditions. One thing to note here was that anybody could have been a victim of the Soviet prison, as there were prisoners captured even at the age of 13. 

After 1951 there was a shift of things. First of all two events happened. Stalin died, and the news of captured political opponents started arriving at the hands of Westerners. Both of these factors led to the purchasing of prisoners by Western countries like the U.K and U.S, in which they buy a handful of prisoners and publicly expose the brutal actions of the Soviets as propaganda. The only exception being that the prisoners must be physically injured or tortured in some way. So after the death of Stalin the prison was handed over to the East German Ministry of State Security, of the Stasi, in which they built new above-ground complexes to house prisoners in better living conditions, comparable to those living in the SCIE dorms. The only difference, in fact, was that none of the inmates were allowed to see anyone else after being captured besides their guard and interrogation officer. After the shift in political dynamics, the Soviets now changed to psychological torture. It went basically like this: 

Imagine working or going to school like a normal day, and then suddenly you’re called to the principal/boss’s office. You open the door and boom two Stasi officers tell you that they have some business to resolve with you. Escaping is hopeless since you’re at school/work and the Stasi already knows what you do, where you live, and where you work. So you decide to come along with them. They put you in a miniature van with a small cell too low for you to stand and too tight for you to lay down. This prevents you from falling asleep. The door of the van is slammed shut and all you can see now is complete darkness. They then drive you to the Hohenschönhausen prison 45 minutes away, but the drive takes 4 hours. The Stasi, instead of driving straight to the prison, drives you around Berlin multiple times to mess up one’s sense of time. Upon arrival they park the van in a garage and leave you there for another couple of hours. Finally they open the door and the first thing you see are bright lights that flashbang your eyes. When your eyes finally readjust all you can see are the white walls of the abnormally large garage without any sense of what time and what place you are currently at right now. The only person in front of you is the guard and he brings you through a long walk inside the prison complex. The monotone colors of the walls, floor, ceiling, and lights disrupt your sense of sight and the soundproofed cells make you question your ears. You are then led into a cell, stripped off your clothes and forced to wear an uncomfortable tracksuit. After shaving all hair, as well as being given a code number, you are then placed in a cell. 

What this does, essentially, is remove the psychological barriers between one’s mind and another person. You are humiliated in front of the guard who is watching you change, and you are deprived of your name, the only identity you have left. To make things worse the only person you have seen so far is the guard, who refuses to speak or enact in a conversation. The cells are nice, with mattresses on beds, running water, and natural light pouring in from the stained glass bricks, but there is no one to talk to you. Sure you can flush out your toilet and talk to the inmate below you via the empty water pipe, but the guard right outside would be whipping out his notebook noting down every single place, event, name, and thing you say. After that he’ll forcibly bust his way in and flush the toilet, effectively cutting you from any outside communication. With no name, your sense of hearing questioned, and your sense of awareness distorted, once boredom sets in the only thing you want now is a person to talk to. 

The Stasi wanted exactly just that. Therefore you ask to be interrogated after a few hours or a few days, as that is the only place you get to talk to a human being without being shushed, humiliated, or ignored. You are let out, and still there are no signs of people. The Stasi soundproof everything, and the corridor leading to the interrogation room is absolutely quiet. Once the door opens, however, you are blasted point blank with multiple sensory details. The room itself is built differently according to each inmate and each room accommodates one’s room back at home. Immediately you feel a sense of closeness and warmth. There is an open window, and the outside view fills you inside with awareness and relief that you’re still somewhere on Earth. The smell of coffee also fills your nose, aromatizing one with the smell of freshness that differs starkly with the sickly damp smell of bleach. You sit down on one end of the extremely long table. You realize that you’re sitting on a wooden block that is plopped too low to the ground, making your knees extremely uncomfortable. Your interrogator sits on the opposite end, with a telephone, a cup of coffee, and a newspaper page blocking his face. You take some more time to look around the room. That sense of familiarity hits you deep into the heart a second time. 

Finally your interrogator looks up from his newspaper and stares into you. He smiles, something you haven't seen ever since you got stuffed into that van. Intimidating yet you feel the closeness. Stranger yet you seem to trust him the most. He ushers you and tells you to move up to the seat right in front of him, a padded chair with armrests that is way above the ground and brings relaxation to your knees. That third and final wave of proximity and trustworthiness sends you back into the armchair, as well as unknowingly breaking the last psychological barrier in one’s mind. You seem to trust this man that you’ve never even seen before. You know you can’t say anything to him but everything’s been stuck in your mind for way too long to hold it back. 

He starts by referring to you by your first name. Another punch in the gut. Then he starts by describing all your personal life, details you’ve kept hidden but somehow they know. “You travel to work everyday 50m north of Potsdamer Platz, and you have a family of 5 but your son died in a car crash just 2 months prior.” He starts giving out names, the names of your family, your friends, your colleagues and even all your exes. Finally he threatens and blackmails you, but it feels just normal to you, like someone is telling you a story and you have to comply. “I have your mother tied up next door and is currently being beaten to death”, he says. He brings out that last remaining emotion in your heart and waves it in front of you. After all that you have no choice but to trust him, and you tell him everything. Or maybe you have a strong heart and choose to lie. But they know you’re lying. They know everything. They start asking specific details in your fabricated story to find loopholes and humiliate yourself even more. The interrogator presses a red button and in comes the guard. He starts yelling and taunting you for being a traitor to your country. You turn to the interrogator who says in a nice warm smile “It’s either him or me.” You know deep down that leaving him would mean returning to that dreaded lonely cell, constantly looked at and laughed at by the guard. That final sense of self-dignity shatters within. Who are you? You are no one. 

You finally confess and the guard leaves, closing the door behind him. The interrogator gives 

you one last smile and says, “It was nice talking to you.” He folds his newspaper and turns off the telephone right next to him on the table that was recording everything. You are then escorted out of the room, down the hallway, and into the train that was waiting for you all along. You then find yourself in court, and being sentenced to 50 years of hard labor in Siberia for “betraying the ideals of the DDR”. 

And that’s basically it. This was how the Stasi psychologically managed to manipulate even the strongest people into stating things they never did. It was far more effective than physically torture, yet much more unknown. Victims that suffered trauma from such an experience were ignored for half a decade, and it wasn’t until recent years in which the psychology was finally understood. The interrogators were all professional psychologists, who knew exactly how to break down a human from inside. Unfortunately the Hohenschönhausen prison operated until 1989, in which it was finally shut down and turned into a memorial. 

There are dark times in history, and it is more than important to shed light on them. We do not honor nor apologize for the past, as we weren’t the ones that committed such atrocities. We instead learn from it, place ourselves in the victim’s shoes, and prevent such actions from happening again in the future. Farewell, Berlin.