Berlin stares back
Walk through the streets
Feel the city
Feel the pavement breathing beneath you
Pushing your feet forward
And showing you more with every step
Feel the spray paint stinging your eyes
Feel the messages scratching away at your brain
But be careful
Because Berlin stares back
I. In the Beginning
In the beginning, there was intersubjectivity. There was you. And there was me.
I have always been fascinated by people. I have always been fascinated by you. The reason varies from day to day. On Mondays it is your choice of shoes. On Wednesday it is the conversation I overheard in the restaurant. On Saturday it is your ability to be so very happy with your life. I am particularly interested in the way people interact with each other. Humans are fundamentally social creatures, and yet our relationships are riddled with objectification and deceit. It is perhaps a byproduct of our fundamental thought processes that we must force the “other” into the role of an object of our consciousness.
We cannot understand each other as abstracts. When I look upon you, I see your profession, your sex, the exaggerated curls in your hair. I use observations such as these to construct an image, a definition, of who you are in my mind. Sartre opens his work Being and Nothingness with a discussion of the psychological impetus of this need to define others. He argues that we view ourselves as pure, abstract freedom. We are subjects who cannot be defined by who we are, but rather only by our potential to be something else. By saying “I am a waiter”, I would be subtly denying my ability to have another profession. He goes on to claim that all subjects view the world as one of objects. Just as we feel a deep need to define feelings and create words for the fixtures of the world around us, we likewise have a natural tendency to define other subjects in a similar way. Defining others is called objectification; in essence, we are turning subjects into objects for our consciousness. While the majority of Sartre’s theories are overly condemning and his examples are predicated upon polemical circumstances, one cannot argue against a general tendency to objectify the other.
Although natural, the objectification of the other is ultimately problematic. Just as words can never describe the beauty of a sunset, so too will they fail to describe the complexity of a person. Moreover, radical objectification is often associated with malicious human relationships. Such objectification is often called dehumanization. The Nazis referred to Jews as rodents and as numbers. These individuals were stripped not only of their freedom, but of their very humanity. If such gross objectification is the cause of negativity, one might extend this argument to claim that the reverse would be the cause of great positivity. This extension is an argument primarily proponed by the philosopher Martin Buber. Buber claimed that there are two fundamental levels of relationships: the I-Thou and the I-It. Simply put, the I-Thou is a subject to subject relationship devoid of objectification and the I-It is a subject to object relationship. Buber argues that the I-Thou, while difficult to obtain is something towards which we all must strive. Because of the way in which human objectification directly impacts the nature of human relationships, I feel that this topic is of extreme relevance. Moreover, it is in my opinion that all borders created by people can fundamentally be tied to the borders of objectification that exist between individuals.
I felt that issues of intersubjectivity were particularly relevant in Berlin. German history is riddled with complex and tumultuous human relationships, both on a collective and individual level. We can see manifestations of these relationships in Nazi history, the Wall, and continued “East”-“West” separations. Some argue that objectification and socio-cultural borders are not only necessary, but ultimately positive components of society. Others would argue the contrary. It was my goal to research what factors of cultural/historical backgrounds alter the way an individual views intersubjective relationships. I feel that it is through a better understanding of these influential factors that we, as a society, can move towards a more amiable community in general. Of course, this is clearly not how my project ended.
II. Complications
Upon beginning my research, it became obvious that my topic was unrealistic. My topic found its relevance by virtue of its sheer omnipotent nature. While this omnipotence makes intersubjectivity exceedingly interesting, it likewise makes the topic nearly impossible to research. Furthermore, borders of language and culture skewed any potential understanding I could have of the German people. I could experience the intersubjective relationships between Germans and foreigners, but not the fundamental relationships within the German culture itself.
My methods of research were ultimately inadequate. Due to the ostensibly philosophical nature of my topic, I could not hold truly meaningful and objective conversations about it with the general population. Due to this complication, all of my research was drawn from observation. My ability to observe, however, was irreparably stymied by my inability to understand the German language. Moreover, even in interviews conducted in English, responses were rarely objective. While all interviews are filtered through personal bias, these interviews had an added lens because of my status as a foreigner. In this way, any understanding I was able to gain regarding the style of intersubjective communication and relationships between Germans was either skewed or proffered on the basis of conjecture with minimal evidence.
Ironically, my difficulties were ultimately representative of the very problem I was trying to investigate. My interest was in the inability or difficulty of interpersonal relationships to exist without objectification, and my research was thwarted by this very inability. While my topic would ultimately change, this difficulty is itself telling of the very magnitude of the issue I was attempting to elucidate. I suppose that in the end, my research could not have turned out differently. If I had managed to reach an I-Thou with Germans in a mere month’s time then my research question would certainly have seemed less potent.
IV. Moving On
In hopes of obtaining a more conclusive result, I ultimately changed my topic. In moving through the city, I discovered that I could never understand what Berlin meant to Berliners. I could, however, understand what Berlin meant to me. In the end, I suppose this is the only thing that I can truly understand and it will be this meaning that comes with me when I leave Germany. While this focus is drastically detached from my original focus on the relationship between others, it allowed my research to focus on realistically obtainable understanding and has helped to foster increased personal growth.
My ultimate goal was to put a face on the city. I wanted to examine the way I related with the city, and what image I would take away when I left. Moreover, I wanted to relay this image to others in order to produce a community of shared experience. In this way, my project would still maintain some level of community involvement. The shift in my topic resulted in a shift in research method as well. I was able to abandon faulty and judgmental observation tactics. Rather, I was able to simply absorb the city. By focusing myself on an understanding of my own experiences, I saw Berlin with new, more receptive, eyes. I allowed the city to wash over me and began to develop my own relationship with it.
V. Findings
No city has a single face. This was certainly the case with Berlin. In looking through the various countenances of the city, I found that there existed an overwhelming sense of irony. Initially, the city came off as beautiful, artsy, clean. The more I looked; however, I began to find cracks in the image. Do not get me wrong, I do think that Berlin is beautiful. I think it is amazing. And yet, I found that there was a second side to everything.
Berlin thrives on its own irony. I took a visit to the artists of the city. Art fills the city. It is a symbol of freedom. Perhaps even of anarchy. In the 1980s, artists preyed upon the weakness of the fiscal state and set up their own communities. These communities functioned on an all welcoming and sovereign system. The entire point of these houses was to have art without some external purpose. And yet, today these artists find themselves to be a tourist attraction. They market themselves as such and sell their work to anyone passing through. I visited Tacheles one evening, hoping to meet German artists. I was met with tourists and told that true Germans no longer came by. The East Side Gallery stands as a tribute to the destruction of the wall and the ideas that founded it. In its inception it was meant to convey a sense of freedom and a destruction of unjust borders. The gallery was a piece of public art, meaning it should be allowed to move with the genesis of time. Yet what I see now is a wall that has been fenced off and is being repainted into its prior state. Such a travesty of public artwork is completely counterintuitive to the original purpose of the gallery. The artists’ communities and the East Side Gallery are a mere two examples of the overwhelming irony that fills the city of Berlin.
VI. Presentation
I AM BERLIN,
I walk proudly down uncluttered streets,
And pristine walls with arresting punctuality
Look at my beautifully painted face,
Look hard, as I blow smoke into your eyes,
And perhaps you won’t see my heels dragging behind me.
For, I AM BERLIN
Conflict and paradox
Irony and misplaced memories shadow my face
And string a haze across my words
You stumble upon my names
But your moment of pause is confused by the children
Who jump from block to block
My portraits hang along construction
The construction of a city
The construction of a memory
The construction of an absolution
You smile and you frown
And you cry and you imagine
Yet your face is limp; as coffee flows sweetly against my words
Words from the face of a horse about the life of a dog
Do you see it?
Do you feel it?
Do you really hear me?
Or is the sullied concrete beneath us just the snapshot of a tour?
Now I AM BERLIN
My clothing is black
On black
On black
On neon green
Clad in fishnets and army boots,
My legs stand thinner than my smokes
And my dog seems better fed than I
But don’t worry,
He won’t bite
You see, he’s so very well trained
The spray paint stings your eyes as you walk past my unsung artwork
The anarchist symbol shaved into my scalp
Shines brighter than my pink hair
But, I like your music
I like your style
So come with me sister
We’ll fuck the system
We’ll fuck the world system
Or didn’t you know,
Anarchy is a team sport.
No, I AM BERLIN
Would you like to buy a paper?
Only a euro twenty
I know you see me
Even looking down, I can feel you staring
Poor but sexy, that’s what they call it
So what do you say?
Would you like to buy a paper?
Are your pockets too tight?
Do I not seem to need it?
Should my voice be more broken?
Should my ribs chatter against my shirt?
Would you like to buy a paper?
Only a euro twenty
I don’t smell of liquor
And I’m doing an honest job
So why are my words are simply moaning undertones in the din of a subway?
I AM BERLIN
Do you have a cigarette?
Do you have a light?
You see, I seem to have run all out.
I attempted to convey this sense of irony in my final presentation. While I would take many things away from Berlin, the irony and dualism is certainly the strongest feeling that will come with me. Each verse of my presentation was meant to convey this. I did not want to make the city come off in a negative light, but I did want to be realistic about what I saw. To this end, most of my stanzas end with questions. These are questions I wanted the audience to ruminate upon in order to better understand the dissonance in the German image. The opening verse introduces the first impression of the city: clean, beautiful. It then hints at the background behind this “painted face”. The next three verses were meant to be three distinct different faces of the city that I felt embodied my overall point and experience.
The first face portrayed in my poem is that of a victim of the holocaust. One of the architects on the board for the holocaust memorial asked the questions “How does a nation like Germany remember a massive crime perpetrated in its name? How does a nation like Germany reunite itself on the bedrock memory of its crimes?” In observing the stumble stones, the memorial, and the Berliners’ recognition of the Holocaust, it became apparent to me that these are questions with which the German people still struggle. Despite the ongoing provisions to remember the horrors of the Nazi era, children jumped upon and played in the Holocaust memorial, and I never saw a single German notice the stumble stones while walking. In order to convey this dissonant stance on Holocaust remembrance, I attempted to create a victim who was both tired and bitter. I finish the stanza with the question “is the sullied concrete beneath us just the snapshot of a tour?” This specific line is drawn from my memory of the blood stained concrete in the basement of Sachsenhausen and is meant to solidify a level of doubt in the German reconciliation of its own past.
I chose to juxtapose the initial face of the past with that of the rebellious present. To this end, the second body stanza pulls forward the image of a German punk who I met on the U-Bahn. I find the German counter-culture and punk scene to be incredibly fascinating. The scene is a clear reaction to the complicated nature of Germany’s political past, but I question its efficacy. I have always found anarchy to be uniquely counterintuitive. While I can understand the impetus for its inception, I still fail to see how you can have an anarchist collective. It is for this reason that I ended the second body stanza with the phrase “didn’t you know anarchy is a team sport.” I feel that it is particularly ironic that Berlin has such counterculture when the law enforcement seems to maintain a ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ policy about most public activities. One woman told me that, while her actions were often illegal, no one in Berlin really worries about “things like that”.
The last face of my poem is that of the underlying poverty in Berlin. Specifically, I chose to represent the people who sell Strasse, the German equivalent of Real Change, on the U-Bhan. Berlin’s governor has defended the cities financial troubles with the statement that Berlin is “poor but sexy”. Indeed, one is not initially aware of the poverty in Berlin. But even something as simple as a clean street can be deceitful; it speaks to the poor who pick up discarded bottles for a 25 cent refund. Clubs that define Berlin culture are shutting down because of lease foreclosures. The artsy, frivolous image of the city is crumbling under the global grip of capitalism. Yet you cannot tell at first glance. The individuals selling Strasse were not emaciated, they did not show the normal signs of street life. I tried to convey this when the stanza asks “do I not seem to need it…should my voice be a little more broken…should my ribs chatter more loudly against my shirt?” Despite an image of wellbeing, the very existence of the paper speaks to underlying poverty.
Each image put forth in my poem s meant to demonstrate the irony and dissonance in the overall face of Berlin. I close the poem with tone that is meant to be distinctly different than the opening. Whereas the opening conveys confidence, the end is intended to leave the audience with the image of a person who is out of sorts. Not necessarily lost, and not necessarily in a bad place; rather, simply an exhausted person who does not quite know what to do with his situation.
