Heritage, Hitler, and what to do with Prora

October 12, 2013

The preservation of the past is perhaps one of the most debated issues concerning heritage today: choosing what sites, buildings and landmarks to salvage and maintain, restore or destroy is inextricably connected to our presentation of our past, and how we remember it.  The difficulties surrounding this ‘production’ of heritage became particularly clear for me when I came across a news article discussing the future of the Prora Complex, and the implications of its darker past.

The Prora Complex is an immense architectural feat, to say the least, and is one of the few remaining – intact – examples of Third Reich architecture.  Stretching roughly 4.5 km across the Baltic coastline on the Island of Rügen, the complex is formed (originally) of eight identical, six-story blocks of steel-reinforced concrete, housing (approximately) 10,000 rooms – all with a sea view.  The complex was designed by Hitler (and architect Clemens Klotz) as a bucket-and-spade seaside resort (sort of like the modern day Butlins), as part of the ‘Strength Through Joy’ programme.  Every week, 20,000 German workers were destined to holiday there, relax on the white sand beaches, and appreciate Hitler’s ‘gift’ to his workers.

This did not come to fruition, though; the work on the complex was halted with the outbreak of WWII in 1939, just weeks before it was due to be finished.  When the war ended, Prora was made use of as a military barracks, first by the Soviet Red Army, and then by the East German National People’s Army – quite the opposite to a feet-up holiday destination.  When the army left in the early 1990s, Prora suffered from a lack of maintenance, decay, and became victim to (varyingly talented) graffiti artists.   As the New York Times asks, the question facing new Germany is both difficult and controversial:

‘What do you do with a Nazi relic that is too big and too laden with symbolism to destroy, but too enormous to be easily put to use?’

Though mainly in ruins, some parts of the complex have already been utilised; there are now a number of museums, a night club, and a youth hostel.  Certainly, the renovated parts of Prora seem to fit the definition of today’s, highly desired, term ‘multipurpose build’.  To add to this, there have been recent proposals by a German business man (Axel Bering) to convert part of the complex into luxury apartments, equipped with kitchenettes and parquet floors.

Holidaying at Prora

This is all well and good, but it does bring to the surface some rather difficult issues surrounding heritage and preservation.  For many, that 4.5 km stretch on Rugen Island is a symbol of the Nazi’s wartime atrocities and crimes against humanity, and so, understandably, has little right to preservation.   Yet Prora is, undeniably, a remarkable example of Nazi vision.  Its sheer size and ambition reflects what Hitler’s regime had to offer, and, perhaps, why so many were seduced by it.  Moreover, would Prora be preserved if it wasn’t for its connection with Hitler?  It definitely isn’t the most ascetically pleasing building; it’s unusably huge; and – in all honestly – it’s concrete shell and derelict areas give it a ghost town-like atmosphere.

However, as noted above, Prora’s history isn’t confined to the Third Reich era, and it’s important to recognise this.  Although built by the Nazis, the party never made use of the complex; arguably, the Prora complex is a greater story about East Germany and communist control than the Nazi party.  The many aspects of Prora’s past, then, poses some fundamental questions about remembrance: what, exactly, is to be remembered?  And, equally, how do we remember it?

Axel Bering’s glossy, computer-generated brochures of the ‘new’, luxury apartments are considered by some to have already erased the complex’s darker past.  Despite some parts of the buildings being listed, developers are looking to ‘de-Nazify’ the interiors (with modern amenities, bigger windows and under-floor heating).  Although the exterior remains relatively unchanged, then, it is certainly debateable whether this development constitutes ‘preservation’.  Indeed, is it ‘ok’ to change a heritage site like this?

Reading around, it seems more like a business-centred venture than historical project in Bering’s eyes (according to one source, Bering was actually the first person to buy one of his apartments…).  And, although this might make some of us feel a little uncomfortable, perhaps it’s a step in the right direction to see Prora in an optimistic light.

Don’t get me wrong: the past of the complex is paramount and should not fall victim to a bout of historical amnesia.  But we have to draw the line somewhere.  With the area’s history being what it is, some may feel that to live there, have parties there, or go on holiday there may be inappropriate, or not quite ‘right’.  This is understandable, but, for me, we shouldn’t let the past hold us back.   After all, many places hold a darker past underneath a shiny exterior (one close to my heart is Chatsworth house and the Slave Trade – a post for another time), but this shouldn’t prevent progress being made.  As long as that past is still remembered, somewhere.