Germany struggles with remnants of the Reich
| Nuremberg, Germany
It doesn鈥檛 look like much. In fact, it鈥檚 easy to mistake the expansive parade grounds as a construction site, with all the fencing and warning signs, until you see the flashes from people taking pictures at the lectern. For it is here, at Zeppelin Field, where Adolf Hitler beguiled the masses in Nazi Party rallies held throughout the 1930s in this Bavarian city.
Nuremberg鈥檚 rallies, immortalized by Leni Riefenstahl in her 1935 film 鈥淭riumph of the Will,鈥� have seared this city in the public鈥檚 consciousness as National Socialism鈥檚 ideological heart. While the swastika atop the grandstand of Zeppelin Field was famously blown up by the US Army in 1945, today these grounds stand as the best physical proof of Hitler鈥檚 ambitions for a thousand-year Third Reich.
For decades, most in this city preferred that these buildings simply disintegrate into the dustbin of history. And it shows. Walking along the grandstand, the length of three football fields, visitors are warned in German and English: 鈥淓nter at your own risk.鈥� The stands are chipped and decrepit. Chain-link fences encircle much of the arena. Graffiti mars the podium where Hitler stood in his jackboots, spewing fiery rhetoric and pumping the air with his fist.听
Now the city is at a critical juncture as it debates the future of the Nazi Party rally grounds, raising questions as practical as they are philosophical. Nuremberg is in the midst of a pilot project to determine the final cost of refurbishing Zeppelin Field, the details of which will be made public by the middle of this year.
The city says that if nothing is done, the site will one day be too dangerous to visit. Ultimately, some historians argue, this gives Nazi architect Albert Speer exactly what he wanted: a mythical ruin. Others believe that old Nazi architecture merits not a single cent from the public purse. In their view, seeing it crumble is the boldest message that Germany could convey.
Nuremberg is not alone in dealing anew with its Nazi heritage. The entire country has been swept into a debate this year about the release of a new edition of 鈥淢ein Kampf,鈥� the first time Hitler鈥檚 book has been published in Germany in 70 years. Both clashes come as Germany faces the reemergence of xenophobia that has flared as the country sits at the center of Europe鈥檚 refugee crisis. Some worry that both the book and the buildings, if renovated, will become rallying points for today鈥檚 neo-Nazis.听
The debates in Germany highlight a fundamental question that many countries in the world struggle with: What do you do with symbols of a past that many people today find abhorrent?
In the United States, fights over the display of the Confederate flag in public places surface almost weekly. Ukraine is systematically removing statues of Vladimir Lenin and other totems of the country鈥檚 Soviet past. In Spain, where authorities in Madrid are renaming streets that commemorate Francisco Franco, divisions simmer over demands to remove the late dictator鈥檚 body from the vast monument named听 Valley of the Fallen that glorifies his reign.
The Rising Sun flag 鈥� a controversial symbol of Japan鈥檚 imperial history 鈥� is still used by the country鈥檚 Maritime Self-Defense Force, much to the anger of Japan鈥檚 neighbors. Britain has been embroiled in a controversy over whether to remove a statue of Cecil Rhodes 鈥� for whom the prestigious Rhodes scholarship is named 鈥� from a college at Oxford University because of critics鈥� concerns about his ties to Southern Africa鈥檚 colonial and racist past. The university says it will stay right where it is.
Yet in few places do historical symbols evoke more sensitivity than in Germany.听
One reason is the sheer scale of the atrocities committed during Hitler鈥檚 reign, which is why Germany banned the swastika and other Nazi iconography right after World War II. But the republishing of 鈥淢ein Kampf鈥� and the possibility of refurbishing Zeppelin Field signal what may be a new willingness among many Germans to confront the country鈥檚 dark past, in ways that would have been considered unthinkable just a decade ago.听
鈥淭he connection between the two is that we don鈥檛 hide any buildings, and we don鈥檛 hide any books,鈥� says Alexander Schmidt, a historian at the documentation center of the Nazi Party rally grounds. 鈥淲e can鈥檛 hide history.鈥�
When Cornelia Kirchner-Feyerabend, a high school history teacher, was growing up in Nuremberg, the rally grounds were hidden. Not physically 鈥� for their size, more than four square miles in total, made that impossible. The site includes the semicircular Congress Hall, the largest remaining National Socialist structure in Germany, and the Great Road that gives a view of Nuremberg castle, a symbol of Hitler鈥檚 expansionary aims.
It was more that schools didn鈥檛 organize trips to the site. Nor did Ms. Kirchner-Feyerabend, as a youngster, ever go to a concentration camp. Visiting both is obligatory now.
In the aftermath of World War II, history was shrouded in silence. It wasn鈥檛 until the 1960s, during the trials of 22 SS men for their crimes at Auschwitz in Frankfurt, that many young Germans learned about the crimes of their parents 鈥� turning the protests of that turbulent era into ones specifically directed at Nazi collaboration and impunity. Kirchner-Feyerabend, a history buff in a suit and pearls, says she doesn鈥檛 know what her own father, a soldier in Russia, did during the war. 鈥淵ou can鈥檛 imagine how many times I鈥檝e regretted I never asked,鈥� she says.
In fact, like so many of her generation, she says she learned the most about her country鈥檚 history watching the 1978 award-winning American TV miniseries 鈥淗olocaust,鈥� featuring Meryl Streep.
On a recent day at her public high school, the oldest one in Germany, she leafs through an antique edition of 鈥淢ein Kampf鈥� that one of her students brought in. It was his great uncle鈥檚 and, inside, the dedication signed by the mayor of Munich reads: 鈥淔or the newlywed couple with best wishes for a happy marriage.鈥�
Her own history teacher, she says, would not have dared to bring the book into the classroom. He was not an 鈥淥ld Nazi,鈥� she says, but for everyone at the time, Hitler鈥檚 text was treated as something to be locked in the 鈥減oison cabinet.鈥� In fact, here in Bavaria, where Hitler rose to power and where his last address was listed, the Americans handed the state the copyright of 鈥淢ein Kampf鈥� after the war. Bavaria promptly banned its republication; the ban expired on Jan. 1 of this year.
A new, annotated version by a Bavarian research institute was released Jan. 8. Even though it is 2,000 pages long, it has sold out, showing the interest in an edition that dissects the book. Kirchner-Feyerabend鈥檚 school, Melanchthon, an imposing sandstone structure with a red-tile roof, is on a waiting list.
The book has stirred criticism, especially from some Jewish groups. They are worried about a rise of religious intolerance, both from old anti-Semites and by newer disaffected Muslim immigrants in Europe. But in a telling sign, the main teachers union in Berlin called for it to be introduced in classrooms.
鈥淣owadays, too many countries are affected by political extremism associated with propaganda and slogans, and excerpts from the annotated edition of 鈥楳ein Kampf鈥� can show young people how speech and text can lead to disaster,鈥� says Josef Kraus, head of the teachers union GTA.
鈥淚 believe that 70 years after the end of World War II, German society has become more sovereign and more mature. We finally have the opportunity to crush both the myth of Hitler and that of 鈥楳ein Kampf,鈥� 鈥� he says.
The students in Kirchner-Feyerabend鈥檚 class are like any group of high-schoolers. They鈥檙e dressed in the standard teenage uniform 鈥� jeans and hooded sweatshirts. They frequently goof off. She asks them to quiet down, on more than one occasion. The students don鈥檛 feel the heaviness of Germany鈥檚 past the way their parents, and especially their grandparents, do.听
Their views on what to do with the Nazi Party rally grounds reflect the divisions in society, but they all believe it鈥檚 nothing to be afraid of. For them, studying 鈥淢ein Kampf鈥� as a primary educational source is natural. Many fail to understand Hitler鈥檚 appeal in the 1930s, seeing him as 鈥渞idiculous鈥� or 鈥渋nsane.鈥� During class, they talk about a movie some have recently seen, 鈥淟ook Who鈥檚 Back,鈥� a bestselling satire recently adapted for the screen about Hitler returning to Germany in modern times but with no knowledge of what transpired after 1945.
Alex Wekerle, a student in a red sweatshirt in the back row, says that his grandmother, who participated in the Nazi Party鈥檚 young people鈥檚 movement, Hitler Youth, wouldn鈥檛 be able to view the past through satire. And yet, young Germans still feel what is called here a 鈥渟pecial responsibility,鈥� and often reflexively disassociate themselves from the period.听
The student who brought in his great uncle鈥檚 issue of 鈥淢ein Kampf,鈥� Johannes Jung, immediately prefaced it by clarifying that his uncle wasn鈥檛 a Nazi. Coping with the past, or 痴别谤驳补苍驳别苍丑别颈迟蝉产别飞盲濒迟颈驳耻苍驳, still plays a central role in German society. It undergirds the country鈥檚 pacifist foreign policy, its close relationship with Israel, and its fears of the far right generally.听
The refugee crisis, which Germany has been at the center of, has inspired violence; brought out an angry display of xenophobia with Pegida, the anti-Muslim movement; and boosted the right-wing political party Alternative for Germany. But many people also see German Chancellor Angela Merkel鈥檚 acceptance of refugees as a noble position formed by, among other impulses, a desire to be 鈥済ood.鈥� Often the weight of the past is blamed for naivet茅 or extreme political correctness on the part of the government. This includes claims that Berlin underplays the problems caused by foreigners 鈥� exemplified, most recently, by the sexual assaults on women in Cologne on New Year鈥檚 Eve 鈥� so as not to stoke the far right any further. Many outsiders say it is time for Germany to play a bigger role militarily in Europe, to get over its fears of the moral ambiguities of conflict.
鈥� 听 听 鈥� 听 听 鈥�
if you ask the students in the animated classrooms and bustling hallways at Melanchthon whether a 70-year ban on 鈥淢ein Kampf鈥� was excessive, they鈥檒l say it wasn鈥檛. For starters, a collective national response to such a sensitive topic could never have happened before reunification in 1990. Prior to that, the nation was divided over the legacy of the Nazis, with communist eastern Germany perpetuating the fallacy that it was West Germans alone who backed fascism.
Students also say that it wasn鈥檛 until 2006 鈥� just a decade ago 鈥� that Germans raised the national flag without inhibition. Germany hosted the World Cup that year, and suddenly, in the heady drama of the soccer competition, a new German patriotism took root. Still, they say flags are taboo enough that they would only wave them at a game.
One other sign that German attitudes about the past are changing is a theater production now traveling the country. Created by the company Rimini Protokoll, the play, 鈥淎dolf Hitler: Mein Kampf, Vol. 1 & 2,鈥� explores the myths surrounding Hitler鈥檚 manifesto. The production has been sold out at every stop.
Relying on documentary theater, the Berlin-based group traveled around Germany to talk to some 50 people about their history and experiences with taboos surrounding the book.听
鈥淭his text has come along with a myth in Germany that it鈥檚 infectious, that if someone reads it he could convert into some kind of radical [right-winger] or anti-Semite or racist,鈥� says Daniel Wetzel, one of the artists who leads the theater group. 鈥淲ith the process of the book becoming available to everyone, there is a kind of adjustment in thinking.鈥�
A shift in attitudes is taking place over the Nazi Party rally grounds, too. Amid the shortages and destruction that existed after the war 鈥� nearly all of Nuremberg鈥檚 medieval old town was bombed 鈥� the grounds had to be reused. Former SS Barracks housed the US Army. The Great Road was used as a runway for the US Air Force. For decades, the space was occupied but the history of it ignored. Authorities tried to rename Congress Hall, but the new name never caught on, so it went back to Hitler鈥檚 original name for it.
It wasn鈥檛 until the 1980s that the first information exhibit was erected. The documentation center didn鈥檛 open until 2001. Today, some 250,000 Germans and foreigners visit these grounds each year. In fact, a city that always preferred to emphasize its imperial history now understands that its Nazi legacy is just as big of a tourist draw. Stephen Brockmann, author of 鈥淣uremberg: The Imaginary Capital,鈥� attributes that to a new 鈥渟ense of normalization and responsibility.鈥�
Old Nazi architecture, of course, exists everywhere in Germany. Some of it, like Zeppelin Field, is listed on a federal registry and cannot be bulldozed. Most often it has been repurposed. Federal ministries sit in old Nazi buildings; soccer teams play in their stadiums. On the island of Ruegen, an abandoned resort called Prora, built between 1936 and 1939 as part of the Nazi鈥檚 Strength Through Joy project, is being redeveloped into a tourist destination 鈥� unapologetically. Developers say 85 percent of the condos and apartments, to be completed in 2017, have been sold.
鈥淲e live in the here and now,鈥� says Iris Hegerich, a managing director of Irisgerd, a property firm whose development of condos and vacation rentals there is called New Prora. 鈥淭he German population can鈥檛 change the past.鈥�
鈥� 听 听 鈥� 听 听 鈥⑻�
Preserving the Nazi Party rally grounds has in some ways been a less controversial project because it鈥檚 not being done for overt commercial gain. Yet the size and scale of the undertaking has brought it national scrutiny 鈥� and at least some criticism. First, initial estimates put the cost of the renovation at 鈧�60 million to 鈧�75 million. The plan is not to restore the buildings to how they looked prior to the war, at the apogee of Hitler鈥檚 power. It is to maintain them in their current, half-ruined state. In short, authorities want to do the absolute minimum so that the ruins can be handed on to the next generation. 鈥淢aybe in 100 years they鈥檒l decide they don鈥檛 need [the grounds],鈥� says Mr. Schmidt, the historian at the documentation center.
This is a critical year. Once the exact cost of the renovation is determined, the city will ask the state and federal government for financial backing. It鈥檚 too expensive for the city to undertake alone. Plus, the longer the wait, the more costly the renovation will be.
Looking out at Zeppelin Field from a window in the documentation center, Schmidt acknowledges that this is not a straightforward preservation project, like earmarking money for restoring a school or church.听
鈥淚t is not so easy to know what is right,鈥� he says. 鈥淲e know this is not a nice building. It is not connected to good history, only bad history.鈥�
But, he says, if authorities allow Zeppelin Field to disintegrate, they run the risk of turning the grounds into a potent symbol, as he argues the prohibition of republishing 鈥淢ein Kampf鈥� did. And, without refurbishment, the entire area will be closed off to those who use the space today for everything from car races to cycling. It would take away a piece of land that served as a recreational area well before the Nazis came to power.
Yet others believe the only way Nuremberg can move forward is by letting go of the past, not preserving it. Zurich-based architect Willi Egli, who also chairs the advisory council on architecture in Nuremberg, believes the grounds should be allowed to crumble naturally, even if that entails fencing it off.
鈥淲ithout spending millions, the Zeppelin Field is destined to die anyway, and, in all clarity, it should be allowed to do so,鈥� he says. 鈥淕ermany shouldn鈥檛 look backwards anymore. It should rather bring into the future its enormous, sophisticated vitality.鈥�
Others say that preserving Zeppelin Field is the progressive way forward, part of the continuum of Germany dealing with its dark history. Postwar silence eventually gave way to truth seeking, but the emphasis at first centered on the Nazi leaders of the time. Historians then began to probe German institutions that allowed the Holocaust to happen. Then they started to cope with the idea that ordinary Germans enabled the tragedy to happen 鈥� some directly, some with willful blindness.
The evolution of thought is reflected in monuments, too, from the opening of concentration camps to the public to erecting memorials to the dead. The Nazi rally grounds represent one more step.
鈥淭his is not a memorial of victims; it is the other side, a memorial of bystanders,鈥� says Schmidt.
He notes that, standing at Hitler鈥檚 rostrum, feeling the dimensions of the space and the intentions of what the F眉hrer had for the future, visitors are prompted to ask themselves a central question: 鈥淧erhaps if I had lived in Nazi times, what would I have done, if I stood in Zeppelin Field? That is the question we should be asking ourselves, so that we aren鈥檛 bystanders again.鈥�
Correspondent Daniel Mosseri听contributed to this report from Berlin.
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