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Today, it is 21 years since the Berlin Wall came down. Here is another book excerpt from the book Berlin- matter of memory on the Wall and the voids that replaced it. A draft for this text was previously published on this blog about a year ago.

It is impossible to write about Berlin without including the former Berlin Wall. The Wall that separated the East from the West for twenty-eight years, from 1961-1989, officially ceased to exist over twenty years ago, but it still plays a central role in the city. When the Wall came down, the general opinion was that it should be excised from Berlin, from history and from the minds of the city’s inhabitants. The question of preservation was secondary to the desire for reunification, and voices asking the city to preserve stretches were raised only very late in the euphoric beginning of the 1990’s.

As it has turned out, the physical wall has become a ghost. A conscious policy to rebuild Berlin from Potsdamer Platz to Bernauer Strasse and the wish to conceal the city’s unsightly scars have led to the removal most of the actual Wall. As the Wall was superimposed on an already existing city – which has since been reconstructed – it can be difficult to trace the wall on a map today, while in the actual landscape, especially some distance away from the most central parts, many signs of the iron curtain’s physical manifestation can still be seen.

Many have written about the Wall, what it meant to Berlin as a monument and what it has continued to symbolise for Berliners. Since most of these are written by competent historians (see for example Brian Ladd’s “The Ghosts of Berlin”), I will keep to aspects concerning myself as an architect. The first of these is the significance of the physical void left behind by the Berlin Wall.

The voids of the former “death strip” have done more for the integration of the reunited city than any of the grand projects such as Potsdamer Platz or Spreebogen or the like. Today, the voids are what characterise Berlin and constitute the one of the city’s prime assets. One could even say that the voids define Berlin culturally. Architect Rem Koolhaas was fascinated by the void when the Wall was still standing, and wrote the now-famous words ‘where nothing exists, everything is possible’.

It has now been twenty years since the Berlin Wall fell, the iron curtain was lifted and Berlin became one city again. During the first few years after the Wall came down, investments in the reunited city were made on a scale that rarely has been rivalled in Europe. At some point however, Berlin ran out of money and the city has been struggling economically since. The construction has continued, albeit on a smaller scale. Many of the new projects are constructed on land where the Wall used to run.

To some, the void left after the Wall is a scar which can’t be concealed rapidly enough; as long as the scar is visible, the division of Germany and the inequalities resulting from the unification remain contemporary. These memories can’t be written into the history books as past until the void has been filled. As long as the wound is open, the past will continue to leak into the present. Monuments make history, while scars keep the past current.

Architect Daniel Libeskind saw the physical voids as mental voids in the collective mind, the marks of a society broken and a representation of the relationship between Germany and its Jews that was destroyed in the Holocaust. He maintained that the psychological voids would remain even if the physical voids were filled with new buildings.

The Wall was the millstone around Berlin’s neck, but through its demolition, this symbol of oppression became the stage for freedom. The cultural capital Berlin would be unthinkable without the voids; this is where nightclubs, art-installations, concerts and flea markets thrive(d) to make Berlin what it is today. These spaces can be used for anything or for nothing. Experimental culture can burgeon and evolve. For all intents and purposes, these ‘unprogrammed’ spaces are the cornerstones of cultural innovation in this city.

The voids give Berlin a unique spatial character and create unique opportunities in regard to public space. The voids are free spaces, to be used or inhabited in different ways as long as it is of a temporary nature. In and of themselves, the activities taking place in these spaces are monuments to freedom. The voids are a by-product of the Wall, perhaps the only positive one. If we decide that the voids of Berlin are spatial monuments, they are no longer functionless empty spaces. On the contrary: the voids become spaces worthy of preservation.

Another aspect of the Wall is the layer of activity and function it now creates on top of the reunited city. An almost invisible line crisscrossing through the city, the former path can be – and is – explored by tourists and Berliners alike, providing a view of the city from a new perspective. Travel along the Wall’s former path is best undertaken by bicycle and entails moving in an atypical pattern through the city, passing through neighbourhoods which would otherwise remain unseen.

Is the Wall today an relic or a monument? The voids are definitely relics, while the preserved stretches are monuments; they are authored in the sense that they are interpreted rather than objective. The museums and preservation zones are monuments, encoded with messages and interpretations. There are three separate permanent Wall exhibitions filling different functions in the city to date. The “Gedenkstätte Berliner Mauer” on Bernauer Strasse is concerned with the preservational aspect, meticulously tending a section of the former death strip and commemorating of its victims. Perhaps the most famous preservation zone is the “East Side Gallery”, a section of the Wall which was converted to a gallery shortly after the fall. Artists were invited to decorate a length of Wall in East Berlin which had previously (for obvious reasons) been free of graffiti. Although the section of Wall is more a gallery of street art than a memorial, the East Side Gallery tends to be the destination of choice for tourists, as the colourful murals correspond to their vision of how it ought to be. The privately-run Mauermuseum – Haus am Checkpoint Charlie (Checkpoint Charlie Museum) focuses on spectacular escapes and escape attempts during the years of the Wall. It also offers an opportunity for visitors to be photographed with border guards and have their passports stamped.

The rest of the Wall is a relic, albeit one whose effects on the demographics and the social composition of different areas is much more in your face than the disappearing physical traces. The integration of the reunited city is slow, much slower than anybody expected, and even twenty years after the fall, the demographic division remains.

Areas with high non-German populations are generally the areas that were just on the Western side of the Wall, dead ends during the divided years but today quite central areas – for example Wedding, Kreuzberg or Neukölln. Areas on the Eastern side are typically old and run-down, with a few exceptions. These areas were rapidly gentrified when the Wall fell and still host a large, floating, international population of artists, architects and other people without proper jobs.

To preserve the void as a common territory and acknowledge the unique spatial conditions with which Berlin’s turbulent history has provided the city would be a positive motion and create opportunities which will eventually help Berlin out of its slump, or slumber. Berlin will never be as picturesque as other German cities, but what it does have is a unique urban landscape of spatial opportunities unrivalled by any other European city.

“Sous le pavé- la plage!”, or “Underneath the paving stones – the beach!” was a graffiti painting in Paris, associated with the Situationist International movement that referred to the festivity and creativity that exists underneath the repressive and pacifying order of the society they perceived.

The state of the urban public spaces are these days often under debate. Cities grow and the nature of the city changes, and with them, the functions of the urban spaces change. The public space has in many cities been reduced to shopping arcades or billboard foregrounds. Since you never meet anybody you would like to meet in a public space anyway, what is its function? This change is more than likely to continue over the foreseeable future. Very few of the public squares function as they ideally would. Perhaps the time has come to look at different forms of public spaces. As our public life almost is reduced to shopping, it may be time to ask ourselves whether the public spaces of our time should have another form in order for them to fulfill the functions we associate with public spaces. The functions we associate with public space would be a much longer post, here I will focus on spaces where we meet people and spend time.

There is hardly any inland capital in Europe that has not created some sort of artificial urban beach during the last summers. First out, in Europe, was, quite suitably, Paris, where the mayor had a beach created along the Seine in 2002. This was done primarily for all the people who had to spend the summer in the city. It was a huge success and has been repeated every year since. Other European capitals have also created beaches of their own, Dublin, Berlin, Budapest, and there was for a short while even one on a small parking space in east London.

I believe it was Reyner Banham who referred to the beach as the last public space in LA, referring to Venice Beach and Santa Monica. To a certain extent, the same could be said for Barcelona or Rio De Janeiro. The beach is the space where we spend our spare time, not in the square. The beach is where we meet people and socialise.

What is really so fascinating about the beaches is the ease with which an urban space is re-programmed. Through pouring a few tonnes of sand on otherwise abandoned asphalt, a completely different urban space is created. An urban space with its own rules that do not apply outside the sand box. Through this simple act, a space is created that does not reduce the visitor to consumer or spectator, which most of what we call public space does these days. The set of rules and roles that we normally associate with our city do not apply any more. A new set of rules and the roles we play are clearly defined by the sand. Your primary function as a human being is no longer to consume products or experiences, but rather that of being. Beaches have been associated with leisure for the last hundred years or so, and this association seems to carry almost seamlessly into a drab urban setting.

During the one hundred years that beach culture has existed in Europe, the rules and behavior we associate with the beach is so ingrained in our collective mind that as soon as we see sand, parasols and somebody tells us it is a beach, we accept it and adapt our behavior.

This all gives me a certain hope for the future of public space. It furthermore beckons the question what other ingrained sets of rules and behaviors could be translated into working public spaces for the contemporary and future cities.