Post #1: Palast der Republik & East German Architecture

In Fridolin Schley’s “The Heart of the Republic” we see the Palast der Republik—its construction, its Golden Age and its destruction—through the eyes of Fabian. Fabian, according to Schley’s narrative, is the son of the architect of the edifice. “In the eighties,” Schley writes, Fabian’s father “had been the chief architect for blocks of flats in Marzahn and Hellersdorf, but the palace was undoubtedly his masterpiece” (Schley, 179). The palace was built between 1973 and 1976 as the seat of government for the German Democratic Republic (Deutsche Demokratische Republik) and as a home for “the people” of East Berlin.

Palast der Republik, circa late 1970s

The palace was constructed as part of the GDR’s grand plans for urban architecture that sought to achieve “centralization and monumentality” in the East German capital (Ladd, Ghosts, 190). The palace was built over the ruins of the Hohenzollern palace—irreparably damaged from World War II—which, to the new government, smacked irredeemably of Prussian militarism. In typical Berlin fashion, a contest was held to find a suitably grand design to occupy the space of the old Stadtschloss on the newly dubbed Marx-Engels-Platz. According to Ladd, one design entry, Hermann Henselmann’s controversial television tower, was deemed unsuitable but was constructed ten years later near Alexanderplatz, and remains today the tallest building in reunified Berlin (190).

Foyer of the Palast der Republik, circa late 1970s

The blocks of flats mentioned by Schley, and the satellite cities they comprised, were also a large part of the GDR’s urban architectural program. These apartment blocks were constructed of pre-fabricated concrete slabs and, while depressing to look at, proved very attractive to East Berliners. As Ladd cites in his Companion Guide to Berlin, East Berliners “welcomed the opportunity to move from deteriorating inner-city buildings with nineteenth century plumbing and heating to centrally heated flats with full bathrooms” (419). The Marzahn of Schley’s mention, with 57,000 units, was the “first and largest” of its kind (Ladd, Guide, 418).

Marzahn, circa 1987

In “The Heart of the Republic,” Schley subtly reminds us of the socialist milieu of which the palace was both geographically and metaphorically the heart. Despite an obvious pride in his father’s accomplishments, Fabian recalls that “the fact that his father had been the architect of the Palace of the Republic wasn’t supposed to be more important than working in a factory” (179). The far leftist stance of the GDR government played a very important role in urban planning and architecture in East Berlin. Concepts of equality, modernity, centrality and utilitarianism were all manifested in the socialist capital’s cityscape.

Center, Professor Heinz Graffunder, chief architect of many GDR projects including the Palast der Republik and housing construction in Marzahn and Hellersdorf

Berliner Dom cathedral is center, across the street to the North is the Palast der Republik (facing the parking lot with its back to the canal)

For a government that sought to distance themselves from the old Prussian militarism of the nineteenth century, they certainly succeeded. The apartment towers of Marzahn and Hellersdorf, the iconic TV tower on Alexanderplatz and the mirrored façade of the Palast der Republik were all antithetical to the baroque ostentation of bygone days. To some—especially those of us in the United States—the palace resembles nothing more than the typical, non-descript office buildings we regularly pass on the highway. To East Berliners it was a place of gathering, commraderie, recreation and identity; an association that Fabian reached desperately back into the depths of childhood memories to retrieve.

Berliner Dom is visible at the bottom left corner and in the center you can see Alexanderplatz and the TV tower. The upper right corner of the photo displays concrete apartment towers typical of late 20th century GDR housing projects.

Post #2: Willkommen im Palast

In Schley’s narrative, Fabian, the fictionalized son of architect Heinz Graffunder, conveys to the reader the true meaning of the GDR Palast der Republik for ordinary East Germans. The building was a center for social life in Fabian’s youth, but Schley’s story opens with a gala event that probably takes place in 2003. The building had been closed for asbestos in 1990, but was reopened for cultural events in 2003 until its demolition. The asbestos had been removed along with many of the characteristic fittings—both external and internal—to prepare the building for its fate (which was, at the time, undecided). Schley corroborates the timeline with Fabian’s narration of the state of the palace interior. “The walls had for the most part been torn down,” he says, “the whole room was a fleshless skeleton, crossed by weight bearing steel girders and metal poles; of the more than a thousand globe lights which had once lit up the room only rusting iron fittings remained” (Schley, 174).

Cultural event in the gutted auditorium of the palace, circa 2003/2004

Auditorium in the heyday of the palace's social life, circa 1970's/1980's

Fabian’s childhood memories of the GDR recall a much more vibrant and lively place. In Ghosts of Berlin, Ladd spells out the many popular uses of the building. It hosted a five-thousand seat assembly hall which catered—not just to parliamentary sessions—but to public conventions and concerts (59). The palace also encompassed “spaces for meetings, concerts, and theatre performances, as well as restaurants, cafes, and a bowling alley” (59). The bustle of the golden years of the GDR building was symptomatic of its centrality, not just in the urban landscape, but in the social lives of East Berliners. It is this connection to what Schley refers to as “The Heart of the Republic,” that makes it so difficult for Fabian’s father to simply accept the building’s inevitable demolition for asbestos contamination.

East Berliners enjoying lunch in one of the palace's thirteen restaurants, circa late 1970's

East Berliners bowling in the palace's public alley, circa late 1970's

Ladd’s Companion Guide to Berlin reminds us that the palace and it public spaces represented Berlin’s “most popular gathering spot, a genuine place of popular entertainment in a city (and country) where such places were in short supply” (22). Behind the multi-use functionality of the building lay the idea of bringing parliament and people together. It seems difficult to imagine such a facility being built today, especially in post-911 world when security is of paramount importance. Nevertheless, the germ of the idea seems to have taken hold in present-day architecture. The parliamentary complex of the Albanian Republic, whose transparent roof allows the public to look in on parliamentary proceedings, seems to be rooted in similar concepts of uniting the government and the people. However, as it does not serve the function of cultural and social center of the populace, it is unlikely that the Albanian edifice will ever play as profound a role in the lives of its people as the GDR palace did in the lives of East Germans.

The above film, recorded in the early days of the palace, is testament to the building’s importance as the center to which all spokes of East German life and society connected. The GDR palace as the “Heart of the Republic” to which Fabian’s farther clung so dearly, comes to life in a way that sheds light on later heartfelt pleas to stay the building’s execution and preserve it for the future.

Post #3: Palast, Stadtschloss, & Urban Contest

In Fridolin Schley’s tale of the GDR palace, the author touches on the profound contest over ideology and urban space that resulted from the 1990 discovery of asbestos contamination in the Palast der Republik. He represents the Eastern argument through the fictionalization of the architect, Heinz Graffunder. Fabian recalls that his father “had never quite recovered from the asbestos—in both senses” (Schley, 180). His father’s sickness and declining health mirrored that of the palace’s poisoned form. As “The Heart of the Republic,” the imminent loss of the building viscerally sickened his father in a way that Fabian determined could not be coincidental. In a re-unified Berlin, former East Germans had to defend their heart from Westerners who sought, literally and figuratively, to tear it out.

The Palast der Republik closed for demolition

Schley’s account of the architect’s last days are rooted in the reality of Graffunder’s fight to treat the palace’s infection. Professor Graffunder, according to a cultural site on the GDR palace, did spend the time mobilizing “all his remaining energy for the preservation of the palace” (www.pdr.kultur-netz.de). He died in 1994, though the campaign to save the building continued despite Westerner’s calls for a reconstruction of the old Hohenzollern palace, the Stadtschloss. “In the following years,” writes Ladd, “[they] demanded that the ugly building be demolished to make way for a reconstructed palace, while many Easterners remembered many pleasant hours spent [there]” (Ladd, Guide, 22).

Ruins of the Palast der Republik with the Berliner Dom visible across the street

The political and psychological problem of what to do with Marx-Engels-Platz caused a rift in re-unified Berlin. As Ladd points out in Ghosts of Berlin, the shell of the GDR building was competing with the memory of the old baroque Hohenzollern palace in the hearts and minds of Berliners as well as in the physical space of the urban cityscape (59). He draws attention to the “rival nostalgias” of Berliners. One faction sought to return to a “civic wholeness” that—it was believed—the reconstruction of the Stadtschloss would provide. The second group longed to preserve the GDR palace in order to “hold on to certain memories and experiences of life in the Communist state.” The third group, who wanted a clean slate were—according to Ladd—driven by a nostalgia for 1920’s architecture and its ability to create a brave new world (59-60).

Billboard advertising the reconstruction of the Stadtschloss

Architectural model of the Stadtschloss reconstruction project

Berlin has established itself as a city of constant change: a place caught in a never-ending cycle of destruction and renewal. However, this cycle does not preclude the preservation of past and memory. Berlin is a city full of memorials and monuments to its history. The fact that the Berlin landscape has faced momentous change time and again leads to civil disagreement and prompts the historian’s debate. What is worth preserving and memorializing? When one past is recognized over the other, who is silenced? Ultimately, the debate over the historical significance of Marx-Engels-Platz has resulted in the decision to rebuild the Stadtschloss. Shunned by Hitler and the Prussian militarist royalty and demolished by the Communists, the Stadtschloss—and its relative ideological symbolic neutrality—is perhaps the best occupant, and least divisive option, for the space of re-unified Berlin.

The video is a brief history of an urban space. It visually represents the original Hohenzollern palace, the destruction of the GDR palace and the plans for the Stadtschloss reconstruction.