In Berlin this morning, the demolition of a Second World War Nazi bunker has ignited a furious row between heritage conservationists and the city’s development authorities. The structure, a massive flak tower in the district of Heiligensee, has been a subject of bitter division: to some a symbol of brutalist tyranny, to others an artefact of history that must be preserved. The ongoing demolition, which began under police guard, has been labelled by opponents as “absolute madness” and has drawn protestors demanding an immediate halt.
But this is not merely a sentimental squabble. The bunker’s destruction speaks to a deeper tension in contemporary Germany: how to reckon with the physical remnants of a nation’s darkest hour, especially as urban development pressures mount and memory politics grow ever more charged. From a scientific perspective, the bunker is a concrete monolith of about 70,000 tonnes, built by forced labour in 1943.
Its demolition involves controlled explosives and heavy machinery, a process that will generate thousands of tonnes of debris. However, the emotional and cultural energy expended may far exceed the physical. As the correspondent here, I find myself weary of the recurring pattern: another historical structure, another acrimonious debate.
The planet is warming, energy systems are in transition, and we are spending our oxygen on concrete and brick. Yet I understand the need to preserve memory, to learn from the past. The bunker’s fate will be decided not by climatology but by sociology.
For now, the wrecking balls swing, and the protestors shout. The story continues.
