Rome is respectfully called The Eternal City, and Prague is known as The Golden City. New York, though not a capital, is affectionately referred to as The Big Apple. Copenhagen is simply The City, while the Dutch have a fond nickname for Amsterdam—Damsko. The Spanish humorously call Madrid Madriz, and the Swiss refer to Bern as the Sleeping Pill. Paris is celebrated as both the City of Fashion and the City of Light. Berlin, however, has many nicknames, most of them unflattering but largely accurate—the Gray City, the Scarred City, the Failed City, to name but a few.
In 1706, the poet Erdmann Wircker paid tribute to his Prussian ruler, Frederick I, for having built a Spree Athens with Berlin. However, «Spree-Athens» is not a nickname, but rather a deliberate misstatement. The former settlement of Germanic traders and Slavic fishermen was—and remains—far from being a cradle of Western culture.
Western European historians trace the name «Berlin» to Albrecht, the leader of the bear clan, the first Margrave of Brandenburg, and founder of the Ascanian dynasty. Yet this version is not supported by Eastern European historians. Most place names east of the Elbe have Slavic roots. In Slavic languages, the word «ber» means «swamp,» and the suffix «in» denotes a place of residence. Thus, Berlin can be understood as the Swamp City, a name that speaks for itself.
Compared to other European capitals, Berlin is relatively young. No Romans settled here, nor were Greek cathedrals built in its midst. While Paris was already home to 110,000 people, various barbarian tribes wandered the barren land between the Elbe and Oder rivers, searching for a suitable place to settle. «What could have possessed people to found a city in the middle of all this sand?» Stendhal once asked. The area offered no natural resources or fortifications; it was an impenetrable marshland dotted with a few pine forests. Yet it was strategically positioned at the crossroads of medieval trade routes. Ironically, Berlin’s history began as a divided town—Berlin-Cölln—on either side of the Spree. Two ferry piers, so to speak.
The area was originally settled by Wendish fishermen, the descendants of Slavic tribes from the northeastern Carpathians who migrated to the region around 1,500 years ago. Over time, Germanic tribes pushed into Wendish territory, leading to the gradual blending of these two cultures. As the once-defeated Wends were no longer viewed as enemies or outcasts, they were integrated into broader society, moving away from their isolated kiezes and swamp villages. By the 13th century, the population of the city had become predominantly German, composed mainly of enterprising merchants from the northern Rhineland, Westphalia, and Lower Saxony, with additional settlers from Thuringia and the Harz Mountains.
The exact founding date of Berlin and Cölln remains unknown, as any founding documents were lost in the great fire of St. Laurence's Day in 1380. Documentary evidence of both towns only appears decades after their initial settlement. The first recorded mention of Cölln dates back to October 28, 1237. Since Cölln and Berlin were twin towns, this date is also regarded as Berlin's official birthday.
Berlin would not grow organically out of itself, but like a colonial city, like American or Australian cities in the nineteenth century. It was repeatedly expanded, divided and reunited by decree, and new masses of people had to be brought in by some means. From its humble beginnings to the present day, Berlin has only grown as new people have arrived from the west or south of the country, or even from abroad. When the population grew, it was because margraves, electors, and kings called new colonists to the region. The displaced, the oppressed, the dispossessed, and all sorts of thugs came.
All other European capitals have evolved differently than Berlin. From the outset, they were natural centers of power, drawing all forces to them. Berlin, however, was different. It was never a natural focal point, never the predetermined capital of Germany. For centuries, it was hardly mentioned when it came to the affairs of the German Empire. Situated on the northeastern periphery, it was too distant from the heart of German culture and history. The flow of German culture, originating in the west and south, barely reached Berlin, then gradually dissipated, swallowed up by the Ice Age dunes upon which the city was built. Berlin has always existed on the margins, and in many ways, it still does.
The two rival moieties were in no rush to unite. While other European peoples were eager to bring their cities up to world standards as quickly as possible, the Berliners were indifferent to the hustle and bustle of the medieval world. They deliberately distanced themselves from the fray, rejecting whatever was offered to them. It wasn’t until 1307 that Berlin and Cölln finally joined forces, uniting to defend the Brandenburg region and drive out the robber barons who had been terrorizing merchants and peasants.
Until 1448, Berlin remained an almost autonomous outpost of the empire. However, following the forceful quelling of citizens' resistance opposing the construction of a castle on Spree Island and the subsequent imposition of land concessions, control of the city shifted to Frederick II, the Elector of Brandenburg. He was a member of the Swabian Hohenzollern dynasty, which was to shape the country's destiny for the next five centuries. This very castle was later expanded, blown up in 1950 and since rebuilt, served to demonstrate victory over the rebellious Berliners and to suppress them more effectively. The Hohenzollerns, over time, established Berlin as their residence and designated it the capital of the Mark Brandenburg.
Life in the 15th century seemed straightforward, as the historian Trithemius observed: «Life here consists of nothing but eating and drinking.» While Notre-Dame added grandeur to Paris and Westminster Abbey to London, Berlin was still not making much of a splash. The city was repeatedly ravaged by plagues and fires, which decimated its population and stalled trade and commerce just as it had begun to recover. Five times between 1348 and 1576, the Black Death raged through the dirty streets of the two towns of Kölln-Berlin, killing thousands. The depopulated fledgling settlement constantly demanded new influxes from the empire. Even the electors lived modestly. Their lives revolved around their feudal duties—managing their lands, overseeing agricultural production, and collecting rents from their tenants.
The last chance to completely do without Berlin was missed in 1648. Like much of Germany, the city had been devastated by the Thirty Years' War. In a misguided attempt to navigate the religious conflicts, the rulers of Brandenburg tried to align with both Protestant and Catholic armies but ended up alienating both, leaving an undefended Berlin to face its fate. After the war, the city was reduced to a mere 556 and 379 households in the districts of Berlin and Cölln, respectively. The city withered under Swedish rule. The suffering became so severe that people considered abandoning the place entirely. But as is so often the case, something came up and they stayed. This gave rise to the tradition of Berliners stoically enduring their fate without taking any initiative to improve the situation.
Once again, it was foreign immigrants who had to fill the ranks, now summoned by an utterly insignificant elector who ruled over a handful of stubborn lazybones. Berlin was a miserable town in Brandenburg with no cultural value. To buy some prestige, the rulers needed money. It was clear that their treasuries would not be filled by such a backward population. Those barbarians. So they tried to attract an economically educated intelligentsia by promising religious freedom.
Among the first new arrivals were some wealthy Jewish families who had been expelled from Vienna in 1671. Fourteen years later, 5,600 Huguenot Protestants arrived, having been expelled from France by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. These well-trained merchants and highly skilled craftsmen—including jewelers, tailors, chefs, and restaurateurs—brought a new sophistication to the city. After the Edict of Potsdam in 1685, religiously persecuted people from half of Europe flocked to the barren wasteland: Dutch and Salzburger, Palatine and Swiss, Bohemian and Moravian Methodists, and later many Poles. By 1700, only a quarter of the population were native Berliners. About one-fifth of the population spoke French as their mother tongue.
During the Northern Wars (1674-1679), the Hohenzollern territories expanded, ultimately forming the powerful Kingdom of Prussia in 1701. After Frederick William I, known as the «Soldier King,» crowned himself, he made Brandenburg a province of Prussia and designated Berlin as its capital. From here, he aimed to impose his policy of blood and iron. Berlin remained an unloved place, dominating the northern Germanic realm above all militarily.
His son, Frederick II, revealed early on that he was attracted to men, much to the displeasure of his father. The choleric ruler considered his son too soft and effeminate, humiliated and beat him in public, called him a «sodomite» and even suggested he commit suicide. During this period, homosexuality was punishable by death, as one stark example illustrates: around 1730, a man named Andreas Lepsch was burned alive in Potsdam. Frederick I personally financed the execution.
On August 5, 1730, the young Frederick attempted to escape his father’s oppressive rule with the help of his intimate friend Hans Hermann von Katte. However, he was captured and imprisoned in the fortress of Küstrin. The furious king initially sought to execute his son but ultimately settled for the execution of von Katte alone. On November 6, at the age of 18, Frederick had to witness his friend’s beheading. Before the executioner struck, Frederick threw a kissing hand towards von Katte and begged his «mon cher Katte» for forgiveness.
Young Frederick reluctantly agreed to a forced betrothal, was released from prison, and married Elisabeth Christine of Brunswick-Bevern on June 12, 1733. When he ascended to the throne at 28, the jolly egomaniac exiled his wife, lived out his artistic streak, and devoted himself to music. Women apparently repulsed him. He had no children, no mistresses, but many male confidants. He supported local artists, scholars, and cultural initiatives, helping to foster the development of Berlin's cultural and intellectual life. When he noticed particularly handsome men at muster or revues, he liked to take them into his personal service for his sexual gratification.
Frederick the Great Playing the Flute at Sanssouci by the German painter Adolph Menzel, 1852.
In a bid to prove to his late father that he was a formidable leader, Frederick pursued a ruthless military strategy. He waged numerous wars, primarily against Austria. His conquests, most notably the acquisition of Silesia, granted Prussia access to valuable raw materials and fertile farmland. Frederick also championed the growth of several key industries, including textiles, porcelain, and silk. Under his rule, Prussia emerged as one of the five great powers of Europe. Frederick II earned the nickname «the Great.» In the vernacular, he was known as «Old Fritz.» What sounds like an affectionate nickname actually referred to his unpleasant body odor, as he rarely allowed himself to take off his uniform.
During his reign, the military's influence on the capital of Brandenburg-Prussia reached its peak. Life in Berlin was shaped by the court, the military, and the civil service, with the cityscape dominated by palaces, castles, barracks, ministries, and other state buildings. Luxury industries, such as the Royal Porcelain Manufactory (KPM), flourished alongside military and printing industries.
At the outset of the 19th century, Napoleon occupied Berlin twice during his military campaigns. The first occupation took place in October 1806, following his decisive victory over the Prussian and Saxon armies at the Battle of Jena-Auerstedt. On October 27, 1806, French forces, under Napoleon's command, marched into Berlin. King Frederick William III of Prussia fled the city, while Napoleon set up his headquarters in the Royal Palace. The French occupation continued until the signing of the Treaty of Tilsit in 1807.
The second occupation occurred in 1812 during Napoleon's ill-fated invasion of Russia. After suffering heavy losses in Russia, the French army began its retreat westward. On March 19, 1813, Russian and Prussian forces successfully recaptured Berlin. This victory marked a pivotal moment in the Napoleonic Wars, setting the stage for Napoleon's eventual defeat and the liberation of Berlin from French control.
The French occupation had a complex impact on the development of Berlin. Napoleon's imposition of the Continental System, designed to economically isolate Britain, severely disrupted trade and commerce in the city. The blockade restricted vital trade routes, leading to significant economic consequences for Berlin. In addition, the French occupation imposed heavy financial burdens on the city. The French army requisitioned resources, levied taxes, and imposed fines on the local population, exacerbating the economic hardship faced by both the city and its inhabitants.
The French occupation brought significant cultural changes, influenced by the Napoleonic Code and French administrative practices. Legal and administrative reforms were introduced, reshaping the city’s existing legal and social structures. One of the key reforms was the establishment of the University of Berlin in 1809, a notable advancement in education. Napoleon also initiated urban planning changes, such as the creation of the Tiergarten park. However, these reforms were relatively modest compared to the more extensive urban transformations that would follow in later years.
Following the failed March Revolution of 1848, the expansion of the railway network transformed Berlin into a key European transport hub and trading center. In 1866, the satirist David Kalisch coined the slogan «Berlin will be a cosmopolitan city» in one of his satirical pamphlets. With the conclusion of the Franco-Prussian War in 1871, the German Empire was established under Prussian leadership, sparking rapid development in Berlin. This growth was further fueled by the five billion gold francs in war reparations extracted from France, a symbolic act of revenge for the humiliation of the two previous occupations.
Increasing industrialization and the resulting need for labor led to a steady influx of immigrants. Back then, Berlin was not the city of light it is today. It did not attract anyone with its glitz and glamour. No one here knew about the benefits of the sewerage system. But the smells that came from the buckets used to clean the pits at night made Berliners speak of portable gas. There was severe underemployment among agricultural workers, particularly in the eastern regions. Large numbers of German and Polish peasants arrived from Pomerania, East Prussia, and Silesia.
Between 1820 and 1870, Berlin's population grew rapidly, quadrupling from 200,000 to 800,000. Each year, 12,000 new arrivals sought work and a better life, leaving behind the villages and small towns they had come from. After the founding of the German Empire, the influx of immigrants doubled, with even more people moving to the city each year. As the capital of the newly formed empire and the center of its administration and ministries, Berlin's influence expanded. While Friedrich Engels wrote enthusiastically in a letter from England that «Berlin, this nest of misfortune, is finally succeeding in becoming a world city,» Fyodor M. Dostoevsky, visiting in 1874, remarked, «My God, what a boring, horrible city Berlin is!»
Not only did Berlin's population grow, but the area surrounding the capital also became increasingly urbanized. In 1877, the city's population reached 1 million for the first time. By the latter half of the 19th century, Prussia's capital had transformed into a major industrial center. To the northeast, just outside the Oranienburg Gate, the first industrial district emerged—a hub of mechanical engineering known as Feuerland due to its numerous foundries and chimneys. It was here that August Borsig built locomotives. Industry also expanded along the River Spree, but as the city grew crowded, large factories moved to the outskirts.
Berlin became the Silicon Valley of its time, earning the nickname Elektropolis. It was here that television made its world debut, and companies like Siemens and AEG pioneered electrical innovations, including the electric tram and elevator. In 1905, Siemens Schukert introduced the Viktoria, the first electric car in Berlin, with a top speed of 30 km/h and a range of 80 kilometers. Electric cars quickly gained popularity over their combustion-engine counterparts, as they were quieter, odorless, and didn't require cranking to start. At a time when fuel was scarce, electric vehicles were used by the post office, fire department, breweries, and even the city's bus and taxi services. Kaiser Wilhelm's personal fleet included three electric cars. Today, Berlin is fiddling with charging pole infrastructure on lampposts.
During this period, construction companies revolutionized housing by industrializing the process. Entire factories were dedicated to producing building materials, allowing for the rapid construction of five-story buildings, including side and rear wings, in just six months from groundbreaking to completion. Between 1895 and 1910, around 100 new houses were built each year. Mark Twain, on his first visit to Berlin in 1891, enthusiastically remarked on how new the city felt, calling it «the newest city I have ever seen,» despite coming from a rapidly growing America with its own expanding cities. «Berlin is in love with the new,» wrote Anselma Heine in 1908 in her Berlin guide Ich weiß Bescheid in Berlin (I know about Berlin).
«And the machine which has sucked out and gulped down the spinal marrow and brain of the man and has wiped out the hollows in his skull with the soft, long tongue of its soft, long hissing, the machine gleams in its silver-velvet radiance, anointed with oil, beautiful, infallible—Baal and Moloch, Huitzilopochtli and Durgha. Your great glorious, dreadful city of Metropolis roars out, proclaiming that she is hungry for fresh human marrow and human brain and then the living food rolls on, like a stream, into the machine-rooms, which are like temples, and that, just used, is thrown up…»—Thea von Harbou in «Metropolis.»
Within a few decades, Berlin had transformed into a European metropolis, becoming a political, economic, and cultural center for the military, aristocracy, and bourgeoisie. It emerged as a key financial hub, confidently competing with other major European cities such as London, Paris, and Vienna. However, despite its technological advancements and scientific achievements, the political conditions remained among the most backward in Europe. Thousands of working-class families lived in appalling conditions.
Berlin became the largest tenement city in the world. At the turn of the century, there were, on average, just eight people per house in London and 17 in New York, but in Berlin, the number was 76—rising to 110 in the district of Prenzlauer Berg. The typical four- to six-story tenements featured up to six backyards in a row, creating a dense, barracks-like environment, earning the nickname Mietskasernen (rental barracks). Large families were crammed into squalid 1 ½-room apartments, sharing outdoor toilets with multiple other families. More than 15 percent of the population had to share a single room with eight, nine, or even ten people.
The tenement reflected class society: In the front building, spacious, well-equipped apartments attracted the more affluent citizens, while in the rear building, small, poorly constructed, and gloomy flats, usually consisting of a parlor, a kitchen, and a bedroom, were occupied by the working poor. In the basement and under the roof lived the «poorest of the poor, who could only pay the lowest possible rent,» described historian Rosmarie Beier these residents, «chronically ill and invalids, day laborers, the proverbial poor cobbler, worn-out, impoverished seamstresses, rag pickers, newspaper vendors, and widows struggling to survive with their children.»
Historian Jan von Flocken noted, «The capital of the Reich presented a stark contrast between the upper and lower classes. Above all, the housing shortage made life unbearable for many. Crowded streets with no lighting, tenements with five backyards, small, musty apartments, crumbling walls, filthy gutters, and a distillery on every corner. Even as late as 1925, 401,000 out of 1,081,000 registered apartments lacked indoor toilets. This was the reality for the proletariat. Life was a constant struggle of work, poverty, disease, drunkenness, and violence.» Overcrowding, lack of light and ventilation, and persistent dampness and mold created an environment conducive to infectious diseases like tuberculosis and dysentery. Those living in the rear of the house were more likely to die from diseases such as diphtheria or childbed fever, with the risk of fatal measles being three times higher. In 1905, the infant mortality rate in the impoverished district of Wedding was 42 percent, compared to just 5.2 percent in the more affluent Tiergarten.
One extreme manifestation of housing misery was the practice of Trockenwohnen (dry housing). New buildings needed to dry out for about three months before they were fit for occupancy, but to speed up the process, particularly impoverished families were temporarily rented these damp and cold dwellings. While this allowed them to avoid homelessness, it often led to severe health issues.
Such a large and rapidly developing settlement area would have greatly benefited from a unified policy and coordinated planning. However, this rarely occurred. Municipal fragmentation and local self-interest obstructed progress. This was true then, as it is today. For example, the communities of Reinickendorf and Tegel discharged their sewage into Lake Tegel, the very source of Berlin's drinking water. Meanwhile, the proud town of Schöneberg swiftly constructed its own underground railway, but it was a mere 2.9 kilometers long and remained unconnected to Berlin's broader transport network. About 25 percent of the higher earners from the western suburbs worked in Berlin, yet they contributed little to the municipality's finances. This would only change after the collapse of the Kaiserreich a few years later.
Around 1900, London was the global standard for urban development, with a population of 6.5 million, while New York had nearly four million residents. Berlin, with 2.7 million inhabitants, was the fourth largest city in the world, trailing just behind Paris, which had 3.3 million. The first World's Fair was held in London in 1851, followed by New York two years later. Paris had hosted two World's Fairs, in 1855 and 1889. However, when Berlin sought to organize its own World Fair, the project was blocked by Kaiser Wilhelm II. He deemed it too expensive and believed Berlin was not yet a significant global player. «There ain't no friggin' exhibition here, as the Berliners would say,» he wrote to his chancellor in 1892, considering the matter closed after years of debate.
After the 1889 Paris Exhibition, Berlin's industrialists, eager not to be outdone by their hereditary enemy France, intensified their efforts to host an exhibition in their own city. «The fame of the Parisians keeps the Berliners awake,» wrote columnists. Berliners, never short of self-confidence, were determined to match Paris’s success. Four years later, Berlin opened its own local exhibition, as it had already done in 1879, but this time it boldly declared it a World's Fair.
Treptower Park, just outside the city, provided ample space for the event—larger even than the 1889 World's Fair in Paris. Wilhelm Conrad Röntgen demonstrated the use of his X-rays for the first time, while the world’s longest-lens telescope (with a focal length of 21 meters) was set up at the Archenhold Sternwarte. AEG illuminated the fairgrounds with thousands of light bulbs. In the shadow of a nearly 40-meter-high pyramid, actors dressed as Egyptian pharaohs paraded through a replica of Cairo. Venetian gondoliers rowed across a specially constructed artificial lake, and while it was not enough for an Eiffel Tower, a Kreuzberg company built a replica of the Alps. Standing 30 meters high, the «Bergfahrt im Zillerthal zur Berliner Hütte» allowed visitors to experience a ride through the Zillerthal Valley in Tyrol. Meanwhile, 400 native people from the African colonies were flown in to play the role of savages in the so-called «Negro Village»—barefoot, dressed in grass skirts, and subjected to the degrading experience of being ogled like animals in a zoo.
But Berlin always fails when it has to deliver. The 1896 World's Fair was no exception. Despite the grand expectations, the exhibition failed to attract enough visitors to make it profitable. Rainy weather plagued the summer, and instead of the anticipated 55,000 daily visitors, the event saw an average of just 41,000. Furthermore, London, New York, and Paris hardly took notice of the fair, and most exhibitors were from Berlin and other parts of Germany. The World's Fair had a rather national character.
To secure permission to use Treptower Park, the organizers had promised to dismantle all the buildings and refill the lake once the exhibition was over. Today, the Soviet Memorial stands where the main restaurant once stood. Only the observatory was left standing—the telescope was too big to transport—to provide the appropriate symbolism: The exhibition aimed for the stars but had gone down the drain.
The World's Fair was a costly disaster, closing with a deficit of two million Reichsmarks, which fell squarely on the shoulders of Berlin's businesses. Unlike the colonial exhibition, which received generous financial backing from the German Foreign Office, the trade exhibition had no such support. Still, one contemporary noted, «In 1896, Berlin became a cosmopolitan city. Until then, it had been just a provincial European city. The trade fair in Treptower Park marked the turning point.»
Berlin's happy failures continue to this day. Obscure projects, often larger than necessary and with a dose of bad luck, are dredged up from the sand of Mark Brandenburg. Either the weather plays havoc or some other unpredictable force wrecks the plans. And time and again, Berliners have wished for many things that Parisians, Londoners, or New Yorkers have long since had. But many things «just ain't,» as the Kaiser once said.
A fully functioning major airport, adequate housing, and a reliable suburban railroad system—these are just a few examples of Berlin’s ongoing struggles. Failures, bankruptcies, and embarrassments have become part of the city's character, almost as if they could be celebrated as cultural achievements, with museums or monuments to them. Instead, like the buildings of the 1896 trade fair, signs of failure are quickly erased, and people wait for the grass to grow over the remains. The cycle begins anew, and only when a failure reaches such monumental proportions that it can no longer be hidden does it remain as a memorial—such as the ruins of an unfinished airport.
Weimar Republic
«Berlin, city of the north and of death, the windows frozen like the eyes of the dying [...] Oh, you sick, festering city: the fear of your mob covers your wrinkled skin like cold lava.»—Yvan Goll in his novel «Sodom Berlin.»
«In Berlin, the ground is sodden with history,» architect David Chipperfield once said. Two world wars started here. Both were lost. Fought to the last bullet. First for power and colonial expansion, then for the most murderous ideology in human history. When the last bullet was fired, fifteen-year-olds armed only with broomsticks were sent into battle. When that too failed, they surrendered, claiming they had been liberated rather than defeated. One moment, they were part of a violent, criminal regime; the next, they feigned ignorance about vanished neighbors or the horrors of the crematoria and gas chambers.
In the East, it was claimed that all the Nazis had fled to the West before the glorious Red Army. They certified themselves to have achieved a thorough Vergangenheitsbewältigung (coming to terms with the past) and boasted a unique culture of remembrance and responsibility. To be on the safe side, they built an «anti-fascist wall.» To keep the Nazis out, they said, but more importantly, to prevent their own people from escaping. Those who tried to flee anyway were machine-gunned in the back.
After the failed world exhibition, Berlin continued to grow rapidly, driven by the unwavering belief among its residents that the city held unparalleled global significance. However, the cataclysm of World War I shattered this illusion. The city's leaders bore much of the responsibility for the devastating conflict, which claimed the lives of 350,000 young Berliners in the trenches. In the aftermath of the war, Berlin was a mere shadow of its former self. Kaiser Wilhelm II abdicated, and the House of Hohenzollern came to an end. The collapse of the monarchy paved the way for the establishment of a new democratic government in Germany—the Weimar Republic.
The end of World War I in 1918 was followed by another severe housing shortage. The economy was struggling, and many war returnees flocked to the cities in search of work and stability. They were joined in the 1920s by hundreds of thousands of exiled Russians. Almost every major Russian writer of the 20th century lived here temporarily or visited the city. «Berlin smells like Russia,» wrote the St. Petersburg poet Andrei Bely in the 1920s. As he wandered around the city, he met compatriots everywhere. «We live among the Germans in droves, like a lake among its shores,» noted fellow writer Viktor Shklovsky at the same time.
When the tsarist empire collapsed, and the Bolsheviks, led by Lenin, who himself had lived in Berlin several times as an émigré, forcibly transformed the multi-ethnic state into their own Soviet state, a huge exodus of intellectuals, monarchists, civil servants, officers, businessmen, and artists set in. The influx into Germany peaked in 1922-23 when some 600,000 Russian refugees arrived, half of them in Berlin. There were so many Russians in Berlin that city buses were called «Russian Swings,» Wittenbergplatz was called «Little St. Petersburg,» Charlottenburg was called «Charlottengrad,» and Kurfürstendamm was called «Nöpski Prospekt»—a neologism used by the exiles to mock Lenin's «New Economic Policy» (NEP). A few years later, the Germans began to exile, shoot, or gas their own intelligentsia.
The Dawes Plan helped Berlin regain its footing. Within months, the city was once again one of Europe’s leading industrial centers. The debts had been erased by inflation, and production quickly returned to pre-war levels. In just five years, German exports doubled. By 1933, Berlin had transformed into a major financial and commercial metropolis, home to numerous corporate headquarters and wholesale firms.
Daily life was marked by hardship, with inflation and war reparations bearing down on the population. Many had lost their savings in war bonds and found themselves destitute. Social tensions erupted, and political struggles spilled into the streets. It was a dark, turbulent time, the reverberations of which are still felt today. The turmoil of the post-war Weimar Republic, with its power center firmly in Berlin, set the stage for the rise of the National Socialists. Their ascension to power changed life in Berlin—and in Germany—forever.
To deal with the considerable spatial problems, the «Law on the Formation of a New Municipality of Berlin» was passed in 1920. When it came into force, the capital absorbed the free towns of Charlottenburg, Wilmersdorf, Schöneberg, Spandau, Lichtenberg, and Neukölln, as well as the municipality of Köpenick and several dozen villages and estates. The area of the city increased thirteenfold in one go, with a population of 3.8 million. For a short time, Berlin was the second-largest city in the world in terms of area (after Los Angeles) and the third-largest in terms of population (after London and New York), before being overtaken by American and Asian metropolises.
It speaks of the verve of the people involved that, in the midst of the dramatic upheavals that overwhelmed everyone, in the midst of hunger, inflation, street fighting, political discord, and uncertainty, they dared to set out and build Greater Berlin. There was indeed some discussion about whether Berlin should be even bigger. Why not add Oranienburg and Hennigsdorf, for example? There was even some debate about whether Berlin should grow further—why not include Oranienburg and Hennigsdorf, for instance? Berliners have long seen themselves as distinct from Brandenburgers. The separation from the surrounding countryside has deep roots, as does the skepticism many Brandenburgers have toward the capital. The residents of the suburbs, in particular, were reluctant to join Berlin, harboring little sympathy for its chaotic and seemingly useless existence.
In terms of civilization, things have gone downhill since then. Since then, the city’s trajectory has been one of decline. Berlin became an ungovernable behemoth, a «Moloch» of epic proportions. «In the east resides crime, in the center roguery, poverty in the north, and vice in the west, while ruin dwells at every point of the compass,» wrote Erich Kästner in his semi-autobiographical novel Fabian. To this day, little has changed.
In the 19th century, the popular song «You're crazy, my child, you have to go to Berlin! Where the crazies are, that's where you belong!» captured a certain truth about the city's reputation. By the 1920s, Berlin had earned its legendary status as a «crazy stone construction kit,» as the writer Erich Kästner aptly put it.
The horrors of World War I were over, Germany was down. For many, the post-war years were grim, hungry, and brutal. Veterans struggled to reintegrate into civilian life, while the masses, emaciated from years of deprivation, faced daily poverty. The Treaty of Versailles had imposed heavy reparations, and hyperinflation had erased savings, throwing people into even deeper misery. The aftermath of World War I and the economic struggles led to a flourishing cultural life as a form of escapism from the harsh realities of the time. Some were disillusioned and gave in to intoxication, while others yearned for a new social order.
They were an exuberant, restless people who had nothing to lose and wanted to enjoy what little life they had left—even if it meant getting hurt or possibly dying at an early age. Berlin became synonymous with the glamour, intrigue, and bold values associated with the Roaring Twenties, a myth that the city cannot overcome. Berlin meant depravity.
For moralists of all political and intellectual persuasions, the Prussian capital was a chimerical metropolis, a sickening city built on rotten soil, breeding a nightmarish community, a human swamp of unbridled desire and twisted lustful affections, a «vile cesspit of open drug abuse, homelessness, perversion, and untreated mental illness.»
Even the air was said to contain a poisonous ether that attacked the central nervous system, stimulating long-suppressed passions and invigorating sexual perversity. This «scent of freedom and petrol,» as the writer Gabriele Tergit called it, attracted life-hungry people from every province to try their luck here. People spoke of the Moloch of Berlin, of the man-eating Whore of Babylon, of the Voracious Machine, and of the urban jungle and its pestilential breath.
Erich Kästner's first stop was Nollendorfplatz, a hotbed of wild excess. According to him, even Dante would have taken poison to avoid seeing what he found there. Kästner wrote: «It was the metropolis and earned this title every day and also every night anew. Theater and art, music and literature, fashion and beauty, lust and vice, everything crowded together as if under a magnifying glass.» Berlin must have been a mess back then.
Disgusted, even sickened by it, the young Berlin writer Klaus Mann, son of the famous Thomas, expressed himself in 1928: «Millions of malnourished, corrupt, desperately horny, furiously pleasure-addicted men and women are staggering and stumbling around in a jazz delirium… » How many more people would the Great Whore waste? How much more dirt, fumes, germs, and rot would plague the overcrowded quarters? Klaus Mann wrote: «Once we had an army, now we have excellent perverts! Vices still and still! Colossal selection! You have to see it!» His colleague Stefan Zweig wrote in his memoirs: «Everything that was extravagant and uncontrolled experienced a golden age. Everything that promised extreme excitement beyond anything previously known, every form of intoxicant, morphine, cocaine, and heroin, found a ready market.»
Cocaine and morphine have been used as painkillers during World War I—often too generously. Many soldiers returned from the war with addictions. By the end of the war, the army's huge cocaine stocks offered a way to numb defeat and misery. Cocaine was in widespread circulation: «You could get it from the toilet attendant in every other nightclub,» noted the writer Curt Riess. Max Edel, a Charlottenburg medical councillor, blamed the unusual mental tensions of the war for the spread of narcotics: «All passions were awakened, the dance craze, the gambling craze, the film craze, the concert craze, the theater craze.«
It was not just the bohemians who snorted themselves into delirium. Cocaine was used by all classes, academics, artists, and workers. People could work harder, party longer, be more alert, and be more sociable. Drug researchers Ernst Joël and Fritz Fränkel described it in their 1924 book «Cocainism»: «These pubs, scattered all over the city, vary according to the economic strata of their clientele, from refined elegance to the poorest simplicity, although one can often enough observe that a relatively well-to-do clientele frequents precisely the dullest spelunkers.» Even mobile cigarette vendors made a little extra profit from cocaine as a side hustle.
In the more elegant establishments, there was a trend that revealed a lot about consumers' self-image: «It has been described to us on several occasions that in places where almost everyone carries their tin of cocaine around with them, snorting no longer gives the impression of a clandestine and illegal pleasure, that a pinch [of cocaine] is hardly ordered any differently than a glass of cognac.» The writer Rudolf Stein noted in a newspaper review: «If you sit in a café in the West in the evening, nine times out of ten the waiter will ask you: ‹Coke, please?›» The message was: «Look, we can afford this stuff whenever we want—and no one can forbid it.»
When the last nightclubs closed at six in the morning, the cocaine trade shifted to the streets and the railway station around Friedrichstraße and Kurfürstendamm, and for poorer people also around Bülowbogen. The writer Carl Zuckmayer also dealt there when he was not yet successful as a writer and needed the money. In his memories, he wrote that he wasn't quite sure whether what he was selling there was really cocaine or just table salt mixed with crushed aspirin. He started by working as a nightclub courier. Then he sold cocaine in front of the KaDeWe department store, which was surrounded by cafés, dance clubs, cinemas, and all kinds of kaschemmen.
The comparison with the biblical Great Whore goes back to the journalist Curt Moreck. In 1931, he published an account of his experiences, «A Guide to the Vicious Berlin: The German Babylon.» He described numerous excursions to legendary music halls and dance palaces, amusement parks and coffee houses, trendy bars and gay bars, but also to places of prostitution and crime. The nightclubs offered a mixture of political satire and striptease, accompanied by plenty of alcohol and cocaine, and a sexual permissiveness hardly imaginable in the older cultural capitals like Vienna, London, and Paris.
But the dream was slowly turning into a nightmare. For all its pleasures, which most people could not enjoy anyway, the Berlin of the Twenties triggered rampant fears about the future, from which the Nazis, in particular, profited. Hostility towards the city, hatred of «asphalt culture» and its sexual libertinage were part of their standard rhetoric.
The city faced high unemployment and political unrest. Violent crime spread. The political landscape was marked by the rise of far-right movements and left-wing uprisings, leading to social disruption and political instability. By the end of 1929, with the shadow of the Great Depression looming, the collective merriment had gone downhill. One of the best-informed observers of the events was the former pilot and writer Adolf Stein. Under the pseudonym Rumpelstilzchen, he published a weekly column on events in the capital. Worried, he noted on July 24, 1930: «There is whining in the amusement industry because more and more people are losing their jobs in the cabaret, in the cinema, in the theater, and in the music cafés.»
Liza Minnelli shot to international fame in 1972 with her role as Sally Bowles in «Cabaret.» The Oscar-winning film is set in Berlin in the early 1930s and is based on Christopher Isherwood's novel «Goodbye to Berlin.» «Berlin means boys,» the young English poet W. H. Auden whispered to his friend Christopher in the late 1920s, «it's a bugger's daydream.» So the two poets moved to Berlin with a few friends, a clique of young gay Englishmen looking to find companionship and to enjoy the city's incredibly brilliant intellectual life. It was the desired place for all those whose sexual preferences deviated from the heterosexual norm, for all those who were somehow different.
The tradition of a gay subculture dates back to the 18th century. For most of its history, Berlin was a Prussian military garrison and was long associated with soldierly homosexuality and homosexual prostitution. By the early 19th century, the first gay bars had sprung up, often hidden and frequented by gays and lesbians alike. Initially located in Mitte and northern Kreuzberg, the scene spread to Schöneberg around Nollendorfplatz in the early 1920s—still one of the most popular gay neighborhoods. Berlin was a magnet for lesbians and gays from all over the world. There were 170 clubs, bars, and pubs for gays. Gays met in public parks such as the Tiergarten, in public baths, and in various transit stations. Meeting places also included public urinals, nicknamed «café octagons» because of their shape.
The world's first gay magazine («Der Eigene») appeared in 1896. In 1897, Magnus Hirschfeld founded the «Scientific-Humanitarian Committee» in Berlin, the world's first gay self-organization to represent the interests of gays. The «Institut für Sexualkunde,» which he directed, opened in Tiergarten. It was both a medical center and a center of the gay emancipation movement. Congresses and campaigns for sexual reform made it internationally famous. The first lesbian novel, «The Scorpion,» was published in 1919 by the Berlin writer Elisabeth Weihrauch. In the same year, the first gay film, «Anders als die Anderen» («Different from the Others»), by director Richard Oswald, was released. In 1924, the world's first lesbian magazine, «Die Freundin,» was published.
The 9th of November is a fateful day in German history, marked by a series of pivotal events that have shaped the nation's past. The 9th of November stands as a day of reflection on the complex and often tragic moments in German history, shaped by both moments of triumph and devastating loss. On this day, Germans reflect not only on the jubilant fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 but also solemnly remember the victims of the meticulously orchestrated anti-Jewish pogroms of 1938, known as Kristallnacht.
On 9th November 1918, the oppressive rule of the Swabian Hohenzollern dynasty came to an end with the dual proclamation of the Republic in Berlin. Social Democratic politician and publicist Philipp Scheidemann, addressing a passionate crowd, declared the establishment of the Republic from a window of the Reichstag in the afternoon. Later that evening, socialist Karl Liebknecht echoed the proclamation from the balcony of the Berlin Palace, announcing the «Free Socialist Republic of Germany.»
Five years later, on the 9th of November 1923, Adolf Hitler’s first attempt to seize power—the Beer Hall Putsch—ended in failure and his subsequent arrest in Munich. Three years after that, on the same date in 1926, Joseph Goebbels, a 29-year-old scholar and fervent party functionary, arrived in Berlin. Hitler appointed Goebbels as Gauleiter of Berlin, tasking him with the crucial mission of transforming Berlin—the «reddest city»—into a stronghold for National Socialism.
Hitler harbored megalomaniacal ambitions for Berlin, intending to transform it into the global capital of the Thousand-Year Reich, rivaling the ancient civilizations of Egypt, Babylon, and Rome. To realize this vision, he planned a radical overhaul of Berlin’s urban landscape, demolishing what he considered 'degenerate elements' in order to make way for his vision of «World Capital Germania.» This grandiose project was designed to showcase the alleged supremacy of Nazi Germany through monumental architecture, vast boulevards, and grand public squares—each a symbol of Aryan dominance.
In contrast, Joseph Goebbels' relationship with Berlin was complex and ambivalent, torn between fascination and revulsion. The Nazi «blood and soil» ideology idealized rural, peasant life as the pinnacle of health, virtue, and Germanness, while urbanization was viewed as a threat to racial purity. Berlin, with its bustling streets filled with outsiders, misfits, drunks, and political radicals, seemed to contradict the regime's vision. The city's liberalism—its moral, artistic, and intellectual openness—was at odds with the authoritarian, puritanical ideals propagated by the Nazis.
Despite his ambivalence, Goebbels recognized the strategic significance of Berlin within the Nazi agenda. In a propaganda article, he wrote, «The power state begins in the street. Whoever can conquer the street will one day conquer the state.» His views and actions were firmly grounded in anti-Semitism and the belief that uniting the masses through a common enemy was essential for mobilizing support. In an article titled World Enemy, he expressed: «On the asphalt of modern cities, the world Jew is establishing the imperialist dictatorship of red gold; its pillars are the press, the labor movement, parliament, and the freedom of the bourgeois parties.»
With the rise of Nazi Germany also came the end of the great distraction, the dance on the volcano ended as it had to. The Nazis imposed strict regulations and censorship that led to the closure of many nightclubs, cabarets, and other entertainment venues that were considered contrary to their ideology. The atmosphere of freedom and tolerance that had characterized Berlin's nightlife was replaced by repression and fear.
The Nazi attitude toward drugs evolved from an initial tolerance to a repressive and controlling approach, with considerable bigotry and a stark contrast between their policies and the widespread drug use within the regime. Addiction was considered incurable, and drug addicts were often labeled «psychopathic personalities» and subjected to forced sterilization. But where fanaticism was not enough to fuel the murderous ideology, the use of drugs was ruthlessly promoted. Methamphetamine was used extensively by the German military during World War II to enhance the performance of soldiers, suppress fear and anxiety, and increase the willingness to attack and kill.
The Nazis put an end to the homosexual El Dorado. In 1933, both the real and the fictional Christopher Isherwood left Nazi Germany for Greece. The former haven for homosexuals had become a nightmare. After World War II, the situation would change again. The introduction of conscription in West Germany ensured a steady supply of sweetmeat from the provinces to West Berlin.
With around 170,000 members, Berlin's Jewish community was the largest in Germany and a vibrant center of scientific and cultural achievement—an intellectual hub that the Nazis, consumed by their virulent anti-Semitism, could never truly grasp. Tragically, within a few short years, the once-thriving Jewish population of the city would be thrust into an unimaginable nightmare.
Weimar democracy faced threats from both the left and the right. Nazis and communists alike sought to exploit deep social tensions, turning Berlin's streets into battlegrounds. Violent clashes and political murders became a grim routine. More than 270,000 Berliners voted for Hitler in the last free election of 1932. Seizing the moment, he was appointed chancellor on January 30, 1933, marking the beginning of the Nazi reign of terror. Less than a month later, on February 27, 1933, the Reichstag was set on fire, giving the Nazis the pretext they needed to eliminate all political opposition.
As part of their broader anti-Semitic agenda, the Nazis sought to marginalize and ultimately eliminate the Jewish presence in Berlin. They enacted laws that prohibited Jews from owning property, running businesses, and living in certain areas, driving many to flee the city. By 1939, Berlin's Jewish population had shrunk to around 80,000, and approximately 2,600 Jewish scientists, barred from teaching and conducting research, were forced to emigrate—many relocating to Britain and the United States. Among them were 27 Nobel Prize winners who settled in Britain and 47 in the U.S., significantly altering the global scientific landscape. Until 1935, Germany had been a leader in scientific achievement; after that, the U.S. took the lead.
Between October 1941 and April 1943, the Nazis deported thousands of Jews from Berlin to ghettos and extermination camps in Eastern Europe. The first deportation took place in October 1941, when 1,000 Jews were sent to the Lodz ghetto in Poland. By January 1942, around 10,000 Jews had been deported to ghettos in Lodz, Riga, Minsk, and Kovno. From 1942 onward, Jews from Berlin were directly sent to the death camps, primarily Auschwitz-Birkenau. Between October 1941 and April 1943, more than 60,000 Jews were deported from Berlin to ghettos and extermination camps, with nearly all of them perishing in the horrors of the Holocaust.
After Hitler had seized power, he prophesied ominously, «In ten years, no one will recognize this city.» His prophecy proved chillingly accurate. On September 1, 1939, Hitler ignited World War II with the invasion of Poland. The first air raid on Berlin occurred on August 24, 1940, when the British Royal Air Force (RAF) retaliated for a Luftwaffe night raid on London. British bombers followed with an attack on Kreuzberg, raining incendiary and demolition bombs on the area. The first casualties were in the vicinity of Skalitzer Straße and Kottbusser Tor, where twelve people lost their lives. On March 2, 1943, 257 RAF bombers struck Berlin, leaving entire districts in ruins. Two more major raids followed at the end of March, bringing the death toll to 711. In the spring of 1943, both British and American air forces began their bombing campaigns over Berlin. The heaviest raids took place between November 1943 and March 1944, and again from February to April 1945. By the end of 1943, some 30 square kilometers of the city had been completely razed, 68,000 homes had been destroyed, and 400,000 Berliners had lost their homes. Between February 1 and April 21, 1945, more than 100,000 tons of explosives and incendiary bombs were dropped on the city.
The Battle of Berlin began on April 16, 1945. The Battle of Berlin saw a massive Soviet assault, involving approximately 2.5 million soldiers. About 1.5 million troops gathered on the outskirts of Berlin, with nearly 1 million Red Army soldiers tasked with breaking through the Gates to Berlin at the Seelow Heights, located around 90 kilometers (56 miles) east of the city. Roughly 464,000 Soviet soldiers participated directly in the assault on the Berlin Defense Area, alongside around 200,000 soldiers from the 1st Polish Army. This immense military force was backed by 6,250 tanks, 7,500 aircraft, 41,600 artillery pieces and mortars, and over 3,000 rocket launchers.
The German forces defending Berlin were significantly outnumbered, with estimates of their size ranging from 45,000 to 180,000 soldiers, depending on the source. In addition to regular army units, the defenders included police forces, members of the Hitler Youth, World War I veterans, and auxiliary women's units.
When the city fell on May 2, 1945, over 300,000 Berliners and 80,000 Red Army soldiers were dead, their bodies strewn across the rubble. Berlin lay in ruin: at least 45 million cubic meters of debris covered West Berlin, while East Berlin was buried under at least 30 million cubic meters. The city's heart, including iconic landmarks such as the Berlin Palace, Berlin Cathedral, and the famous Unter den Linden boulevard, was destroyed. Around 600,000 apartments and countless public buildings were leveled, leaving 1.5 million people homeless. Nearly eleven percent of Berlin's built environment was obliterated, with many other buildings heavily damaged. A third of the streets were impassable, rail services ceased, and vital utilities like electricity and water were nonexistent. Berlin became the largest field of ruins in the history of the world—at least so far.
The Berlin Wall
In the initial weeks of Soviet rule, a fragile calm settled over Berlin, at least on the surface. Combat troops withdrew, and occupation forces moved in to take their place. The Soviet Communists immediately began confiscating apartments in their sector to house their officers and functionaries. It made no difference whether the former residents were workers or «capitalists.» In many instances, the Russians would vandalize the flats so extensively within a few days that they were no longer fit for long-term habitation. They would simply move on to another apartment, find one that had not yet been destroyed, and take over. With little regard for property rights, they took whatever they wanted, even if they had no use for it.
As early as March 1945, Stalin had instructed Soviet soldiers: «Grab as much as you can!» Senior officers executed mass confiscations, though much of the plunder was poorly packed or not packed at all. Only a quarter of the stolen goods actually made it to the USSR; most of it rotted on the rails.
With the Soviet army already in the field, American troops entered Berlin on July 4, 1945, followed by British and French contingents. Control of Berlin by the four powers was agreed at Potsdam by Winston Churchill, Harry Truman, and Joseph Stalin. Berlin was divided into four sectors, one for each of the Allies. The Soviet eastern sector covered just under half the city, including Pankow, Weißensee, Prenzlauer Berg, Mitte, Lichtenberg, Friedrichshain, Treptow, and Köpenick. The French, British, and Americans shared the western sector. The American sector included Schöneberg, Steglitz, Tempelhof, Neukölln, Kreuzberg, and Zehlendorf, the British sector Spandau, Charlottenburg, Wilmersdorf, and Tiergarten, and the French sector Reinickendorf and Wedding.
During World War II, Roosevelt and Stalin had been steadfast allies, but as the war neared its end, mutual distrust began to deepen. The Red Army had suffered tremendous losses in capturing Eastern and Central Europe, and Stalin was unwilling to relinquish control of these territories. Instead, he pushed for a Communist takeover throughout the region.
A compromise between the former allies soon proved impossible. The growing rift between the occupying powers intensified the division of Berlin. After the Soviet blockade of all supply routes from West Germany (1948-1949), the city was effectively split into two separate entities. The Soviet and Western sectors were governed independently, and the western part of the city was almost entirely severed from the greater Berlin area's supply and transport network. Berlin had returned to its natural state—a divided provincial backwater.
In 1949, Germany was divided into two states: the German Democratic Republic (GDR) in the East and the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) in the West. Contrary to its Four Power status, East Berlin became the capital of East Germany, housing the key ministries, government authorities, and headquarters of major mass organizations. The political elite, along with large segments of the socialist service class, lived in the capital, as did many in the scientific and artistic communities.
Located in the center of the city was the Palace of the Republic—East Germany's most expensive show-off building: a 600-foot-long concrete block with 86,000 square feet of bronze-colored glass framed in white marble. At its opening, head of state Erich Honecker and his wife Margot danced the Viennese waltz [!]. Nearly 10,000 globe lights inside earned it the nickname «Erich's Lamp Shop.» It housed a large concert hall with 5,000 seats, a theater, restaurants, a bowling alley, a post office, and a very popular milk bar. The People's Chamber met here, and the ruling Party held its rallies here.
Only those deemed loyal by the ruling party were officially allowed to move to East Berlin. The government employed a combination of privileges and sanctions to maintain loyalty. Careers in East Berlin were often easier to advance than in the provinces, with higher salaries for industrial workers, clerks, and teachers alike. Supplies and services were also generally better. For example, in 1972, the regime declared the «import of bananas for the permanent supply of the population» a state secret, though bananas remained scarce. While bananas were a priority for East Berliners, they were rationed throughout the rest of the GDR. One of many reasons East Berliners were seen as better off than the rest of the country's fifteen million citizens, earning them a reputation as privileged «loudmouths» among their fellow countrymen.
The Berlin ban was frequently imposed on rebellious youth, especially during party congresses or major state events, as a means of preventing demonstrations. Some young people were banned for years due to alleged misbehavior, even if they had been long-time residents of the city. The anonymity of Berlin, however, made it an attractive refuge for young people and individualists seeking to to stay under the radar of the party, the Stasi, and the socialist mainstream. Berlin became a magnet for those who wanted to escape the regime’s control, with many individuals coming to the city in hopes of leaving the country, and it became a haven for critical intellectuals.
Visitors from West Berlin regularly smuggled newspapers, magazines, books, and records across the border, offering a lifeline to those in the East seeking alternative sources of information. Thanks to the foreign embassies, diplomatic missions, and the steady flow of tourists, East Berlin was even somewhat cosmopolitan. You could seek refuge in the privacy of your own home or in one of the many pubs, bars, clubs, or allotments on the outskirts of the city.
As the socialist regime sought international recognition, East Berlin was intended to be a showcase of the GDR's achievements—a counterpoint to what it saw as the «eastern spearhead of imperialism,» West Berlin. Despite the regime's efforts and the special attention given to East Berlin, it remained impoverished and provincial compared to its wealthier western counterpart. Much of East Berlin was a patchwork of decay: crumbling buildings, neglected courtyards, and inadequate infrastructure. Many apartments had no bathrooms, and outdoor toilets were the norm.
In West Berlin, generous financial aid from West Germany helped accelerate the repair of war damage and fuel some economic growth. On the other hand, West Berlin experienced a significant decline in importance due to the loss of its former capital functions and economic institutions and its isolated location.
The West's integration into the Federal Republic led to the rejection of the Stalin Notes, which proposed a path toward reunification. In retaliation, the Soviet Union imposed a massive arms buildup on the East German regime. The resulting military expenditures quickly plunged the GDR into economic ruin, just a few years into its existence. This economic collapse triggered a wave of emigration from East to West. From 1952 onward, the GDR fortified the inner-German border with fences, guards, and alarms, but the border between East and West Berlin remained open. By the end of the 1950s, more than three million people had fled East Germany in search of a better life, with over half of them passing through Berlin. As a result, West Berlin's population swelled to over 2.2 million.
On May 28, 1953, the regime made a fateful decision: Labor standards were raised by ten percent—supposedly at the request of the workforce. All workers were expected to work much harder for the same pay. On June 17, 1953, the first uprising in history against a communist regime began in East Berlin and spread throughout the country. More than a million people took to the streets to protest rising labor costs, socialist dictatorship, and for German unity. The East German rulers were taken completely by surprise. Without the bloody intervention of the Soviet troops and the silence of the Western powers, June 17 would have sealed the end of the East German regime.
The continued exodus of refugees from East to West had a devastating impact on East Germany's economy and pressured the regime into drastic action. In the early hours of August 13, 1961, the East German military began erecting a barrier that would alter the lives of tens of millions of people for nearly three decades. By August 14, the Brandenburg Gate was closed, and by August 26, all border crossings were sealed. The only thing that still flowed freely between East and West was the wastewater in Berlin's sewers.
In just a few years, the Berlin Wall transformed from an improvised barbed wire fence into a formidable concrete structure nearly four meters high, topped with concrete pipes. Behind it stood an electrified fence, a 150-meter-wide no-man's land, complete with watchtowers, patrol dogs, and searchlights.
Families were torn apart, uncertain of when or if they would be reunited. West Berliners found themselves trapped within the city, unable to settle in the surrounding areas, but they received substantial moral and financial support from the West. This included tax incentives for investment in industrial infrastructure, as well as special monthly payments for those who worked in the city, in addition to their regular wages. West Berliners were also exempt from military conscription, as no German army units were permitted in the city following the end of World War II.
Despite the financial support and other benefits, West Berlin's population continued to decline. The city became an increasingly unpleasant and isolated place, small and surrounded by concrete walls and barbed wire, filled with survivalist symbolism. By 1984, the population had fallen to 1.85 million. What remained was a strange, eclectic mix: soldiers' widows and war veterans, artists and con artists, migrants and fortune hunters, students, gays, lesbians, and drug addicts. It was a place of contradictions—an urban oddity, a surreal sociotope where bourgeois residents coexisted with punks, squatters, musicians, do-gooders, and every other kind of eccentric.
Not to mention the 30 to 40 international secret services and their personnel. Prices skyrocketed in the bars around Zoologischer Garten train station, and for prostitutes on Kurfürstendamm. The high proportion of foreign immigrants was also noteworthy. With 223,569 non-German residents, it was the highest proportion in West Germany. By far the largest group were Turkish immigrants, who accounted for 45% of all immigrants in 1987. The recruitment of workers from West Germany and abroad was intended to compensate for the lack of refugees from the East. Before the border was closed, around 60,000 to 70,000 East Berliners regularly commuted to work in the western sectors of the city. It had been a perfect arrangement: earning a decent wage in the West while enjoying the low rents of East Berlin.
For 30 years, however, West Berlin lacked well-educated 30- to 50-year-olds who combined money with know-how and taste. Culture came to Berlin, if at all, through people who were not Berliners. Coming here was like slamming a door behind you. Everything that had happened before stayed outside. Ideal for people who somehow wanted to disappear or hide from their past. You could start all over again. Or you could very comfortably sink into the paranoid shadows of madness, drug intoxication, and other excesses until you drop dead. The junkie scene was legendary. And shockingly large.
East Berlin, on the other hand, was of no interest to drug dealers. With its weak, non-convertible currency, the East was seen more as a transit route for drugs to West Berlin. The first official drug death in East Berlin occurred in 1990. A guy nicknamed Woody. At that time, East German toxicologists had little knowledge of how to detect heroin. But as the drug scene began to infiltrate from the West, they learned quickly.
The West Berlin administration treated its island city like a self-sustaining allotment garden, with funds coming from outside sources. Politics could not be taken seriously. In this peculiar political ecosystem, frivolous bourgeois fantasies, construction scandals, and eccentric left-wing ideologies thrived. The extremely lavish financing of the subcity was completely divorced from its economic performance. All the industry and its workers had moved away, apart from Schering, Philip Morris, and Mercedes-Benz. Schering produced the contraceptive pill, which was not much needed in Berlin at the time – free people were supposed to have babies. It was not until 1989 that the population returned to around 2.1 million.
East Berlin was the only city in East Germany with a population of over a million. In the immediate aftermath of the war, the city’s population swelled with returnees, displaced persons, survivors of bombings, and those fleeing poverty. However, by 1961, nearly 150,000 residents had left for the West, contributing to a sharp decline in numbers. A mere decade after its construction, the Wall no longer played a prominent role in the daily lives of East Berliners. The hopes for a swift regime change faded, and what had initially been a tragedy became a kind of accepted normality. The initial shock of the Wall’s construction was followed by decades of carefully curated, state-subsidized coziness. West Berlin had literally become a blank spot on the map. No new map of East Berlin showed its streets.
For many West Berliners, the Wall was anything but an oppressive barrier. On the contrary, it gave them a sense of security and moral superiority. There were no demonstrations for reunification in West Berlin—not a single one in more than 30 years. Instead, they reveled in the illusion of a peaceful, privileged existence while considering themselves cosmopolitan pioneers. Thanks to their unique residential situation, they were automatically considered an attraction all over the world. Despite being walled in, West Berlin offered freedoms not available in the rest of West Germany. In no other city was it possible to live so shamelessly and freely as in this lavishly subsidized outpost of the free world.
After the fall of the Wall, Berlin had a rare opportunity to reinvent itself. Of course, it was not seized. The initial euphoria was quickly followed by a hangover. It became clear that Berlin was a hardly viable entity without significant production and largely deindustrialized. In East Berlin, the loss of customer markets in the former Eastern Bloc countries and the backlog of modernization led to the collapse of factories. The end of subsidies for West Berlin had a similarly lasting effect. The money stopped flowing, and within a few years, the city spiraled into debt.
Berlin became infamous for being «poor but sexy,» as former mayor Klaus Wowereit once put it. Because, clearly, there's no better way to embody sophistication than by being broke yet undeniably trendy. Today, it’s Europe's ultimate hipster haven. Given the city’s history of chaos, division, and reinvention, this «artsy cool» vibe somehow feels like the logical conclusion after a century of turmoil. But hey, at least it’s still relatively affordable—well, sort of.