While some of the previous locations fascinated me in their uncanny familiarity, these next ones rather interested me in their historical significance and singularity.
Built between 1934 and 1936, Olympisches Dorf was constructed to house the athletes for the infamous 1936 Summer Olympics. Berlin was selected by the International Olympic Committee in 1931, as a way of reintegrating Germany into the European community after the Treaty of Versailles. The significance of the games drastically changed, however, after Hitler took power
Despite attempts from the IOC and broader international sports community to mitigate outright expressions of antisemitism, only one Jewish athlete, Helene Mayer, was to compete for Germany, and the games were used to tout Nazi ideology and notions Aryan superiority. Antisemitic speeches and pamphlets were rife throughout the competition and Nazi symbolism was plastered across the stadiums. This rhetoric was reinforced by the fact that Germany won the most medals out of all countries; though this was significantly mitigated by Jesse Owen's quadruple gold medal win, as well as the success of multiple other African-American athletes.
The 1936 Summer Olympics also played a large role in strengthening the Third Reich's international influence, which was particularly significant this early on in the regime. The games were notably the first to be televised and significant resources were poured into new stadiums and sporting halls.
The Olympic Village was built in Elstal, 30km West of city centre, comprising of dormitories, a dining hall, swimming facility, gymnasium, track, and other training facilities. The village was built by Hauptmann Wolfgang Fürstner, a half-Jewish commander who committed suicide after his sudden demotion at the end of the competition.
During the war, the buildings were used as a hospital and Army Infantry School, and later as a Soviet military camp. The main sporting halls have since been restored, as well as Meissen House, the dormitory hall that housed Jesse Owens. Tours have occasionally been offered, though I could not find information about these when I was in Berlin. Over the years, competitions have been hosted in the athletics field, and there are plans to make the village into a more permanent museum.
Most of the other buildings remain abandoned, of which my friends and I were able to explore half a dozen smaller dormitories and a large apartment block. Approaching the dormitories, we stumbled upon two does peacefully wandering through the village. This moment struck me, as a marker of nature's ambivalence towards human history.
I often compare urban ruins to the deep woods of medieval folklore - dark, mysterious and disorientating. But I think they often also evoke something more peaceful: a clearing of the land, the suspension of a breath, a calm after the storm….
Yet there was simultaneously something about the mundaneness and contemporary relevance of the village, with this year’s Olympics, that helped concretise this dark time in history. I thought of Arendt's notion of the banality of evil, picturing the roots of this culture of genocidal discrimination taking hold, all while another Olympic season rolled around. In that moment, the history of the Olympic Village felt all the more distant in time as palpably present. And while I witnessed the universe's ambivalence towards history, I felt tangibly closer to this time of history as I wandered through these Olympic grounds.
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