WANDLITZ — The process of Erinnerungskultur, or “culture of remembrance,” has been a way for Germany to acknowledge responsibility for Nazi-era crimes and regain some sense of pride after the Holocaust. So 80 years later, people assume that everything related to the Nazis is well documented and all relevant locations are clearly marked.
And yet, there isn’t a single sign in front of the luxurious country house that used to belong to fervent anti-Semite and Third Reich’s propaganda minister, Joseph Goebbels.
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It just stands there in the forest, near the small Bogensee lake, a stone’s throw away from Berlin. The city administration “gifted” Goebbels the vast estate at his insistence, and construction of the mansion was co-funded by the UFA film company. In 1939, Goebbels moved in, and began to use the home to write speeches, host receptions, take photographs of his six children for propaganda purposes, and screen newsreels in the summer retreat’s private cinema.
Given away for free, if necessary
After the war, the property was used as a military hospital, before the GDR transformed it into an academy for East Germany’s FDJ (Free German Youth). A large building complex was even added afterwards to welcome the nation’s future elite, giving the estate an air of Berlin’s Karl-Marx-Allee in the woods.
There are no signs on the GDR buildings either — but people are mainly interested in Goebbels. People like us, a group made up of half a dozen journalists, the press representatives for the Senate Department for Finance and for the Berliner Immobilienmanagement real estate company, gathered in this remote forest (with no phone signal).
After walking in circles for a while, somewhat perplexed, we end up locating the mansion, and its caretaker, and thus begins our tour.
Many were interested in Goebbels’ villa, a.k.a. the “Waldhof”.
In early May, when the finance senator for the state of Berlin announced that the Bogensee estate and its listed, costly-to-maintain buildings might be given away for free if need be, there was ample coverage on what should become of Goebbels’ villa in particular — the so-called “Waldhof” (a nod to Adolf Hitler‘s “Berghof” holiday home in the Bavarian Alps).
As we tour the premises, a German journalist remarks to an American journalist that “they” always seem to be around when it comes to Nazis. To which she tersely replies, “you too,” and so we move on.
Main theme: dark wood
The estate is designed in the so-called Heimatschutz style, the “Homeland Protection” modernist architecture that the Nazis favored (close to the people, and away from Weimar’s Bauhaus aesthetics which they viewed as “degenerate”). To put it simply, it is ugly. The caretaker unlocks the villa’s massive iron door, releasing a strong smell, stale and musty. Despite our initial reluctance to breathe in anything linked to Goebbels, we soon do, and promptly forget all about it.
The caretaker shows us the unfurnished reception hall, the fireplace room (recurring theme: dark wood), and “Mr. Goebbels'” bathroom. The question pops up about what remained “original” — not much.
At times, it feels like a joke: to be “searching for Goebbels,” who in my mind and that of many Germans, is associated with Ulrich Matthes, who played this epitome of evil propagandist in the 2004 movie Downfall. But perhaps it is the kind of joke one thinks of when things start to feel a bit too somber.
For after all, the DNA of today’s Germany traces straight back to certain people like this very Mr. Goebbels.
