Hitler’s dream of Berlin, and what became of it

Hitler’s dream of Berlin, and what became of it

I’m standing not far from
the Reichstag Building in Berlin, surrounded by offices for the Bundestag: back there is the official
residence of the chancellor. But 90 years ago, the Nazis
had planned to build right here some of the most impressive
and huge buildings on the planet — a project which, as you can probably see,
never really got off the ground. But they did still leave their mark on Berlin, so let’s take a look at
what the city might have looked like had history taken a slightly different course. Even if most of the Nazis’ ideas
never came to fruition, we can still get a hint of what could have been. So let’s start with what didn’t happen. The Reichstag Building would have
been dwarfed by the Great Hall, a domed building so huge it’s said that clouds would have formed inside of it. It would have been back there, bridging the river
which would have been slightly diverted. And the whole thing would have been
part of a larger complex, which would have included
the Führer’s palace over there, the Führer’s office somewhere in that direction, and the headquarters of the military High Command. The Great Hall, also called
the People’s Hall or the Hall of Fame, was to accommodate 180,000 people with a dome 200 metres high
and 250 metres in diameter, with about 38,000 square metres of floor space. Even Hitler’s chief architect Albert Speer
worried that this was too much, and that it would have had the effect of
reducing Hitler to an almost invisible dot. Also, the damp breath of all those people
would certainly have condensed and fallen like a fine drizzle. The very ambitious plan was
for construction to take about ten years and be complete by 1950. Most of the buildings
in this area were demolished with the notable exception of
the Swiss Embassy. In fact, when construction began
on that office block over there, workers were surprised to discover
sheet piling buried underground, meaning the Nazis had in fact
started work on diverting the river. And all this was to
transform Berlin into a new city to show the whole world how it’s done, one that Hitler himself was thinking
could be called “Germania”. But that decision could wait:
there was a lot of work to be done. Our first glimpse of the proposed future
is out in the borough of Charlottenburg: the local tax office, completed in 1939 and featuring a Nazi eagle holding in its talons… well, it is a swastika,
as if taxes weren’t scary enough, but of course now it’s
carefully hidden by the house number. And by the way, we are on the East-West Axis, which was originally built
at the end of the 17th century, to link the royal palace in Berlin
with the royal residence at Lietzenburg, which is now Schloss Charlottenburg. Well, not directly to the schloss: you have to walk towards it down a long avenue. But yes: the road is immediately
obvious on any map of Berlin, beginning at the city palace
and going through the Brandenburg Gate on its way to Charlottenburg and
what is now Theodor-Heuss-Platz, named after the first president
of the Federal Republic of Germany, and which is now home to the Eternal Flame,
a memorial to displaced persons. Originally, it was called Reichskanzlerplatz, but in 1933 it was inevitably
renamed Adolf-Hitler-Platz. The proposed monument to Mussolini,
however, never got built. This axis was to be widened, including the extended section westwards and a new extension eastwards — although the idea of an eastwards extension
was later abandoned. And that was no easy task, as this strange
piece of architecture bears witness. If it seems oddly out of proportion
to you, there’s a reason for that. The Charlottenburg Gate was built here in 1907 at the entrance to what was at the time
the separate city of Charlottenburg. 30 years later, the Nazis rebuilt
this entire bridge and widened the road in time
for Hitler’s 50th birthday celebrations. And this meant that both halves
of this gate had to be dismantled and then reassembled further apart. There was no need for a gate to even be here, as by the 20th century
walled cities were a thing of the past. But Charlottenburg didn’t want
to be outshone by Berlin, and so built a gate anyway. Of course, in 1920 Charlottenburg
was incorporated into Berlin and so lost its identity as a city, but it still had a gate. And by the way, there was a parade here
for Hitler’s 50th birthday in 1939: it lasted four and a half hours. At least this road was partially completed. An even more ambitious road
never even got started. This is a part of the East-West Axis. And if it seems a little quieter
than usual at the moment, that’s because this part is closed for now as they’re still tidying up after the marathon. But anyway, pretty much where I’m standing there used to be another road
called Victory Avenue. What the Nazis had in mind
was to widen it considerably so that it would form part
of the new North-South Axis. But that never happened. Instead, after the war,
all traces of Victory Avenue were removed; and right where the axes were supposed to cross the Soviets built their war memorial. If you know where to look, you can still see the kerbstones
marking the intersection with Victory Avenue, but otherwise it’s gone. Even the Victory Column, which was at the northern end of Victory Avenue
just in front of the Reichstag Building, is not there anymore. The Nazis moved it onto the East-West Axis — not, as some guide books insist, because
it got in the way of Hitler’s car or his view of the cheering crowds, but as part of a long-term plan to
completely redesign huge chunks of Berlin. To that end, a huge swathe of land either side
of the proposed North-South axis would be cleared and vast new buildings
would be built — mostly for the government itself. The Thousand-Year Reich
had to impress the world after all. Work on that never really got started, but let’s look at what did go
beyond the drawing board. And this is probably how you would
imagine Nazi architecture would look. This was built to house the Aviation Ministry, just a stone’s throw from Potsdamer Platz. It’s now used by the Finance Ministry. It’s solid, and a bit severe, and designed on the principle
that form follows function. Interestingly, though, it is no taller
than the buildings around it, which might surprise you
after seeing the plans for the Great Hall. It doesn’t look very much out of place next to
the palace that houses the Bundesrat, which is effectively
the German parliament’s upper house. To truly appreciate how big it is,
you have to see it from above. It’s a vast, sprawling complex
with over 2000 offices, making the Bundesrat looks
by comparison like an annexe. Right next to the Charlottenburg Gate
is a smaller building built specifically for
the Council of Municipalities — a body which was supposedly
a talking-shop for local communities, but was actually a means for central government
to impose its will on local government. Today it’s used by the modern
Office for Building and Regional Planning. Of course, if you’re asking
who was to bankroll all of this, then obviously the central bank: and that’s what this was built as. Or rather, it was built as
an extension to the original building. It may not look like it, but in terms of volume it is the third largest
single building in Berlin. After the war, it was the headquarters of
the Central Committee of the SED, the party that ruled East Germany
for most of its existence; it’s now used by the Foreign Office. Pretty much at the other end of the scale, we have the Tiergarten borough council offices — although thanks to the Nazis’
policy of gleichschaltung, it wasn’t intended for any policy-making. The only thing local governments
needed to do was admin. But for a better idea of the Nazis’ vision,
visit Fehrbelliner Platz. It’s not easy to see because of the trees and the U-Bahn station built in 1970,
in case you couldn’t tell just by looking, but there is a whole ensemble here: administrative offices for
a department store chain, the headquarters of an insurance company, the offices of the Reich Grain Authority, the headquarters of the German Labour Front, and administrative offices for
the Labour Front’s insurance group. For a few years after the war, this building behind me was used
by the British occupying forces as their headquarters, and they called it Lancaster House. They also hit upon the rather bizarre idea that an ideal gift to the city of Berlin would be a British postbox and
a British telephone box — and they’re still here today. Actually, most of the buildings here
were used by the British and given similar names by them. But again, the basic effect is that
while the buildings are, in fact, big, they don’t seem out of proportion. Neither were they in any uniform style: there was no one Nazi style, and instead the buildings were functional and designed in a sort of
simplified classical style embellished with a few Nazi symbols and other flourishes in keeping
with the party’s general ideology. That, though, wasn’t always the case; and the regime was quite prepared
to go back to a more traditional style, as they did with one building
designed to keep Mussolini happy, and which still serves as the Italian Embassy. It was inspired by Italian Renaissance palaces, just slightly modernized. But what of ordinary people?
What were they going to get? Residential accommodation wasn’t
a priority for the regime, but since plans for the North-South Axis
involved demolishing great numbers of apartments, they had to build something. And they made a start at the southern end
of the borough of Schöneberg: 2000 apartments in six blocks. And when I say residential accommodation
wasn’t a priority, I really mean it: official guideliness issued in 1935 mandated that
apartments be built as cheaply as possible, and developers were incentivized
to cut corners wherever they could. Regulations from the Weimar Republic era
designed to avoid squalor and overcrowding were ignored. These apartments were modernized in the 1980s, but as one resident told me,
they are still cramped and damp. But affordable, which in today’s Berlin
is increasingly rare. But there is one other
positive thing to say about them. One of the things you might immediately notice is that there a lot of wide open spaces. Certainly a welcome change from
the older buildings in the centre, built around tiny courtyards
that were often dismal and dark. But the reason the Nazis built in this way
had nothing to do with improved living conditions: it’s because they were
fighting a war at the time, and they guessed — correctly, as it turned out — that their enemies would want
to bomb residential areas and try to create firestorms. Residential blocks built the traditional way
made firestorms easier, as their tiny courtyards
created a chimney effect — something much harder to do here. And because the courtyards
weren’t closed on all sides, the shockwaves from any explosion
had space to dissipate, resulting in less damage overall. This is all for the working classes, but the Nazis also had ideas
about housing their elite. And for that, we need to go
to a housing project at Krumme Lanke. The Nazis really wanted the best of both worlds. On the one hand, they wanted to be at
the forefront of progress and technology, and to be a model for the entire world; but on the other, they also wanted to
preserve traditional German values. And so this was to be the model
for the countryside: small cottages in an idyllic rural setting, built in a style that was
known as “homeland protection”. These were built for high-ranking SS officers, although the original plans were a lot more
extensive than what eventually got built. It did, though, serve to represent
traditional conservative values, as well as reflect the “Blood and Soil”
ideology of the party. This was an ideology that idealized rural life — or at least rural life as imagined by the Nazis: a fairytale version of the real world. But offices and homes aren’t
the only things a city needs. Contrary to popular belief, the autobahn connecting Charlottenburg
with Potsdam wasn’t built by the Nazis. It was opened in 1921 as a racetrack consisting of a very long straight
with a loop at either end. Under the Nazis, there were a couple of changes: a grandstand which still exists,
but has now been converted into offices; and a new building with administrative offices
that included a tower for the judges, today functioning as a motel although it has clearly seen better days. And in both buildings we can see that basic functionality was
a guiding principle in their design: they were simple and practical. Not far away is the exhibition ground,
originally opened in the 1920s but with a Nazi-era pavilion still in use today. And I honestly didn’t realize the adult entertainment industry’s trade fair
would be starting the week I was in Berlin to make this video. I don’t know what the Nazis
would have made of this. They actually wanted to encourage sex, just so long as it was
ethnic Germans having the sex and making lots of ethnic German babies. On the other hand, I think going this far
might have offended their sense of morality. Like several of the places in this video, this building was used as a location
in the movie “Valkyrie”, although it played the role
of the headquarters of the SS. In reality, the SS used as its headquarters
a much older building, a former hotel which no longer exists. But if you can recognize the greatly streamlined
classical elements of the trade fair pavilion, you can also see them at
that most notorious fun-and-games venue in Berlin: the Olympic stadium, built, of course,
for the infamous 1936 summer Olympics. It’s not true, by the way,
that Hitler fled the stadium to avoid having to present
a medal to the black American who, in several disciplines,
beat his white Germanic athletes. But that certainly was embarrassing
for the white supremecists in the party. Like so many of the Nazis’ bigger projects, it looks deceptively low key. But because the track and field inside
are lower than the surrounding ground, it’s actually larger than you might think. It was originally built for 100,000 people. It’s still in use today, although now
with a capacity of less than 75,000, and mostly for soccer: it’s the home ground
of the local team Hertha BSC. An interesting detail is that the plaza in front of it actually
narrows slightly towards the stadium itself. This was intended to make it seem
longer than it actually is and to increase the feeling
of anticipation felt by spectators as they walked towards the main entrance. The stadium was built on the site
of an already existing sports ground, and the U-Bahn station serving it
was also rebuilt. As you have now probably come to expect,
the design is simple and functional. It’s spacious because it had to be
to cope with the expected crowds. If you’re a fan of urban public transport,
this is where the U-Bahn Museum is. Another U-Bahn station rebuilt
by the Nazis is Möckernbrücke, once again simple and functional. It’s on one of the elevated sections of
the system, now served by lines 1 and 3, which is also one of
the oldest parts of the network. Berlin’s U-Bahn was originally intended
to be an elevated tramway, until local politicians insisted
it be built in tunnels out of sight. This station features a roof
that extends the entire length of the platforms, an improvement over the original design
as seen here a few stops further down the line. As far as the U-Bahn is concerned, that pretty much covers everything
that was done in the Nazi period. The railways, though — that was a different matter. This station is relatively new. It was built after reunification as what public transport planners
call a “shoulder station”: it’s a station outside of
the main central area of the city to take pressure off
the main central railway station. But before then it was just an S-Bahn stop where the Dresden and Anhalt lines
cross the ring line. However, had the Nazis got their way, then not far away from here they would have
built their massive southern railway station, which would have been a lot bigger
than what we eventually did get. At the time, Berlin had
a number of railway termini, each for trains to different destinations. One terminus was close
to the modern-day Central Station, for trains to Hamburg and the north-west. The Nazis planned to rebuild the network with two massive stations
for long-distance trains. And here’s where the Nazis planned
their northern railway station. And from here you would have had
a fantastic view of the Great Hall reflected in a vast artificial lake. As for local trains,
the S-Bahn network already existed with a ring line and an east-west line. But it lacked a line from north to south,
and this is what the Nazis built. At the southern end it started at
the terminus for trains to the south, of which today only a small fragment
of the entrance still stands. The line went underground here, as there was
no room to build it above ground, stopped at another major terminus
at Potsdamer Platz, continued past the Brandenburg Gate, crossed the east-west line at Friedrichstraße, and then made its way to the terminus
for trains to the Baltic coast and continued along the main line to where it crosses the ring line
at Gesundbrunnen. This line still forms a vital part
of Berlin’s public transport system, even if most of the mainline stations
it once served no longer exist. Naturally, a video like this can’t be made
without mentioning Tempelhof Airport. Like so many buildings I’ve spoken about so far, this one hides its massive size very well. The airport already existed, but
the Nazis built a vast terminal building together with another building just
over the road called Columbia House that was used by Lufthansa. When it was built, the airport was
the largest single building in the world, a record it held until the completion
of the Pentagon about two years later. Designed to handle up to
six million passengers a year, it sadly wasn’t as future-proof
as the Nazis had hoped: it was next to a residential area, and could never cope with the bigger aircraft
that became the norm later. It remained in service for small planes, processing a couple of hundred thousand
passengers a year, until it finally closed in 2008. The building is currently used for various
cultural events and also a refugee shelter, and the rest is a public park. Autobahns were a particular obsession of course, even though the Nazis didn’t in fact invent them. When they built this factory for Telefunken,
a manufacturer of radio and television receivers, they took the opportunity
to build the first few hundred metres of what was to be one of several
autobahn rings encircling the city. But what in fact happened
was that after the Second World War, the Americans used this building
as an army barracks that just happened to come complete
with a convenient asphalted area perfect for military parades. In 1976, the 200th anniversary
of the American day of independence, the local council offered
to give this space an American name. And General Tice of the Berlin Brigade
suggested “4th July Square”. Of course, now that it’s
no longer needed for military parades, it’s being converted into
a much more pleasant green space. And yes, this is being done by the company
responsible for the railway infrastructure: it’s to compensate for the loss of trees to the reconstruction and reactivation
of the main line to Dresden. When they built the new north-south S-Bahn line, the Nazis included a new station which,
again, is surprisingly small and functional. It’s next to a public park
called the Humboldthain, which is the location of a stark reminder
of what the Nazi regime eventually led to. It’s hard to see with all the trees, especially as it’s half-buried under
an artificial hill made of rubble: it’s a flak tower. This structure was one of many
built in German cities as platforms for anti-aircraft guns, as well as providing shelter to civilians. After the war, the occupying French troops
demolished half of this tower, leaving the rest standing in order
not to damage the railway tracks. About 1.6 million cubic metres of rubble
from the ruined city were dumped here, and it now provides
an excellent view of northern Berlin. Closer to the centre is this bunker, built by forced labourers,
mostly Soviet prisoners. They never actually finished it; but after post-war attempts
to demolish it failed, it was turned into a functioning bunker
with room for almost 5000 people. And yes, your eyes do not deceive you: a huge apartment block was built over it
and the road in the 1970s. It is no longer officially a bunker, and is instead used for cultural events. There are a few more relics of
the Nazi regime, but this is most of them. The truly astounding outsized projects
the Nazis had in mind never came to be. Those they did manage to complete
weren’t in any one uniform style, but rather tried to reinterpret
classical architecture for a new age. This was a regime that wanted to be
both a guardian of traditional values and a pioneer for the future, and which ultimately failed at both.

The Nazis had ambitious plans for their capital, Berlin, but most of their ideas never saw the light of day. Can we still get an idea of what the city might have looked like had history taken a different course?

Chapters:
00:00 Intro
00:53 The grand plan
07:03 Big government
10:51 Living space
13:55 Not bread, but circuses
16:45 Trains, planes and automobahns
22:15 Taking cover

Music:

“On My Way Home”
by The 126ers
YouTube Audio Library

“Ambient String Crescendo”
by Abraham Mast https://freesound.org/

“Keep Climbing”
by The Soundings
YouTube Audio Library

“Hot Swing”
by Kevin MacLeod https://incompetech.com/
Creative Commons Attribution licence

Sound effects from https://freesound.org/

Maps created with data from:
OpenStreetMap https://openstreetmap.org/

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