I have a view of the Berlin Wall from my hotel room: as I am writing this, I can see it out of the corner of my eye. The section outside my window forms the ‘East Side Gallery’, a stretch of remaining border wall turned into an open-air art gallery over 1km long. 

The first thing I did when I arrived in Berlin was walk along the gallery and take in the artwork from artists from all around the world. I have been to the East Side Gallery before, but this time, coming after weeks of deep research into life in East Germany and post-reunification politics, I was particularly struck by the dichotomy between the beauty of the art and the canvas which for decades stood as a symbol of deadly State power. This sense of ‘contrasts’ has continued throughout my research as I have explored how the past still endures in the city. 

After WWII, all of Germany was divided into four occupied zones by the Allies, with the capital city of Berlin (which was geographically located in the centre of the Soviet zone) also divided between the four victors. As Cold War tensions heightened in the late 1940s, the Western zones were ultimately unified and became the Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany) on 23rd May 1949. A couple of months later, on 7th October 1949, the eastern Soviet zone formed the Deutsche Demokratische Republik (German Democratic Republic). And thus, Germany was divided geographically and politically between the communist East and the capitalist West. Berlin, too, remained split in two, with West Berlin being a small island of the Federal Republic totally encircled by East Germany. 

In 1961, the infamous Berlin Wall was erected and became a poignant symbol of the division of Germany. It would stand for almost three decades, before falling after mass peaceful protests. Less than a year after the fall of the wall, the two Germanys would be reunified. 

This year will be 35 years since the fall of the Wall, and multiple generations have grown up only knowing a unified Germany. In fact, during a museum visit, I overheard a young boy’s confusion about how there possibly could have, at one point, been “two Germanys?!”. But despite the time that has elapsed and Germany’s relatively successful unification process, the legacy of the division and the Cold War more broadly are still very present – in society, in individual experience, and even in the cityscape. 

Walking through the city of Berlin, particularly the former East, is to simultaneously experience the past and present. But of course, this is true of most cities - what is notable about Berlin is the certain level of dissonance that occurs from relics of the communist past now existing in a capitalist present. 

Take for example the fact that you can have McDonalds with a view of Checkpoint Charlie, a former border crossing, where during the Berlin Crisis in 1961 American and Soviet tanks faced each other. I enjoyed fries while being stared down by the large poster of a Soviet soldier and watching tourists queue to take family photos. 

Or what about the former State Government Building where the leaders of East Germany preached socialism which now houses a private business school? Inside there are still multiple artworks depicting revolutionaries and the workers’ socialist ‘utopia’ in the GDR which students pass on their way to classes about how to become successful capitalists.  

Beyond these ideological contrasts, there are other moments of jarring conflict between past and present. For example, on a trip earlier this year to Berlin, I went to the Berlin Wall Memorial with a friend. While there, I took the photo below of a man walking his dog on the grass area of the Memorial. In the background, you can see the metal poles representing the Berlin Wall. This grass area would have constituted the 'Todesstreifen' (Death Strip) between the inner and outer walls. The Death Strip was continuously monitored by East German Border Guards who had orders to shoot anyone they saw in this zone. Now, it was where dogs are walked. 

I took the photo months ago but it has stayed with me, and I kept thinking about it when moving through the city on this current trip. To me, this photo is a reminder of the ever presence of history in our lives even as on the surface, we seem to have ‘moved on’. The fact is that history is always there in the background – it’s just that sometimes it is more obvious. Just like the city, we are made up of the past and that influences experiences and attitudes. 

My project is not truly historical and the question I am trying to answer is focused mostly on the present. And yet, much of my research has been delving into history because this is the only way to understand the ‘now’ that we live in. So as I finish up my fieldwork in Berlin and reach the endpoint of my research period, I am reflecting on the importance of context on who we are–as individuals and communities–and how the contrasts we see in the world around us can draw our attention to this.