Latest / The History of Germany: Kingdoms, War, and Rebuilding Europe — Fexingo History / The Berlin Palace: Prussia's Baroque Heart and Its Ghosts
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Berlin's twentieth century — the Wall, the airlift, the firestorm. But I want to go back further, to a building that's been at the center of German identity for three hundred years: the Berlin Palace, or Berliner Schloss. Luna: The big one at the end of Unter den Linden, right? The one that looks like a baroque wedding cake? Lucas: Exactly. But that building you see today — the Humboldt Forum — is actually a reconstruction. The original palace was begun in 1443 as a medieval castle for the Hohenzollern electors, but it was transformed in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries under Elector Frederick III, who became King Frederick I in Prussia. He wanted a residence that would rival Versailles. Lucas: He hired the architect Andreas Schlüter, a sculptor and architect who had already made a name for himself with the grand equestrian statue of the Great Elector. Schlüter designed the western and southern facades, including the famous Eosander Portal — named after his successor, Johann Friedrich Eosander von Göthe — which became the ceremonial entrance. Luna: And Schlüter also did that amazing carved mask on the facade, right? The 'Laughing and Crying' masks? Lucas: Yes, the 'Lachender und Weinender' — two masks, one laughing, one weeping, flanking a window. They're a kind of emblem of the palace's own history, actually. But Schlüter ran into trouble. He had built a massive tower at the northern end, the Münzturm, but there were structural problems — it started sinking into the marshy ground — and he was dismissed in 1706. Lucas: The palace was finished by Eosander and later by others, including the architect of the dome, Karl von Gontard. Over the centuries, the palace accumulated rooms and collections — the King's Apartments, the White Hall, the Picture Gallery. It was the heart of Prussian monarchy. Luna: So when did it become more than just a royal residence? I mean, I know it was where Kaiser Wilhelm II lived, but also where Liebknecht proclaimed the republic. Lucas: Exactly. On November 9, 1918, Karl Liebknecht, the Spartacist leader, declared a 'free socialist republic' from a balcony on the palace's southeastern side — the Portikus, overlooking the square that later became marx engels platz. That balcony was literally a few meters from where Wilhelm II had announced the outbreak of World War I in 1914. So in four years, the same building symbolized two completely opposed Germanies. Luna: A palace that's both royal and revolutionary — that's a strange mix. Lucas: It gets stranger. After the monarchy fell, parts of the palace became a museum, offices, and even a storage depot. It survived the Weimar Republic and the Nazis largely intact. But World War II was devastating. British bombing on February 3, 1945, hit it hard — fires gutted much of the interior. The central dome collapsed. When the war ended, the palace was a burned-out shell. Lucas: And here's where the story takes a sharp turn. The East German government under Walter Ulbricht saw the palace as a symbol of Prussian militarism and monarchy — something that had no place in a socialist republic. In 1950, despite protests from architects and historians, they blew it up. They even used dynamite from the Soviet military. The demolition took months, and by the end of the year, the site was a grassy field. Luna: I remember seeing photos of the rubble — it's almost hard to imagine that level of erasure. Lucas: For twenty-five years, it was just an empty space. Then, in 1976, the GDR built a new building on the site: the Palast der Republik, or Palace of the Republic. It was a modernist glass and steel structure that housed the East German parliament, the Volkskammer, as well as a huge public venue with restaurants, a bowling alley, and a disco called 'Die Kugel.' It was supposed to be a people's palace, welcoming and transparent. Luna: But it also had that brown asbestos problem, right? And after reunification, nobody could decide what to do with it. Lucas: Right. The Palast was closed in 1990 after asbestos was found. For years it stood empty while the Bundestag debated its fate. Ultimately, the decision was to demolish it and rebuild the old Berlin Palace — a hugely controversial choice. Critics said it was turning back the clock, erasing GDR history, and spending a billion euros on a fake baroque facade when the city needed affordable housing. Luna: But they did it. The Humboldt Forum opened in 2020. Lucas: Yes. The reconstruction used a mix of original stonework that had been saved and new materials. The facades on the west, north, and south are exact replicas, but the interior is modern — flexible exhibition spaces for non-European art and artifacts, including the Ethnological Museum and the Museum of Asian Art. And that's where the new controversy starts: the Humboldt Forum houses collections that include objects taken during colonial times, raising questions about restitution and provenance. Luna: So a building that started as a symbol of monarchy, became a socialist parliament, and now a museum of world cultures — all on the exact same plot of land. Lucas: Exactly. And there's even a ghost of the Palast der Republik: the dome of the Humboldt Forum was designed to echo the old palace's dome, but inside there's a kind of 'negative' space where the Palast's shape is referenced. The building is literally layered with history. Luna: It must be strange to walk through it — knowing you're in a replica that's standing on top of a demolished socialist building, which itself replaced a bombed-out royal palace. Lucas: It's a palimpsest. And it makes you think about how we choose to remember. The reconstruction was pushed by private donors and the federal government, partly as a way to reassert a certain German cultural identity. But for others, it's a sanitized version of history — a prettified past that ignores the GDR years and the colonial baggage. Lucas: You know, this show is all about digging into those layers. If you've been coming along with us through these conversations — about Europe, about the way history builds on itself — you might have noticed we don't do ads. The only reason that works is a small number of listeners who chip in a couple of dollars a month. It genuinely makes the difference between making episodes and not. If you've gotten something out of these stories, you can find us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Luna: It really does help keep things ad-free and focused on the content. Lucas: So back to the palace. One of the most fascinating details is how the old palace's foundations were reused. When they excavated for the Humboldt Forum, they found the original medieval cellars — some of which had survived the demolition. They incorporated them into the new building, so you can actually walk down into a basement that dates back to the fifteenth century. Luna: So there's physical continuity, even if the building above is a copy. Lucas: Right. And that continuity is also political. The palace was always a stage for power. In the eighteenth century, Frederick the Great used it to display his art collection and assert Prussia's cultural ambitions. In the nineteenth, it hosted the Congress of Vienna's celebrations. In 1918, it was the backdrop for the revolution. In the 1950s, the GDR tried to erase that stage entirely. Now it's back, but the play is different — a forum for debating global heritage. Luna: I read that one of the biggest debates was about the cross on the dome. The original had a cross, and some people thought putting it back would be a religious statement. Lucas: Yes, the dome was originally crowned with a cross and a statue of the goddess Victoria. When they rebuilt it, they put the cross back, along with a gilded Weathervane. For some, it signified the return of Christian tradition. For others, it was a reminder that the Hohenzollerns used religion to legitimize their rule. And the Humboldt Forum's leadership has tried to present it as a historical rather than a religious symbol. Luna: It seems like every detail is contested. Lucas: That's the point. A building that's been demolished and rebuilt is never just a building. It's a statement about what a society wants to remember and what it wants to forget. And the Berlin Palace, in all its forms, has always been that kind of statement. Lucas: There's also the question of the Eosander Portal itself. It was heavily damaged in the war, but the GDR actually preserved some pieces of it — including the large Prussian eagle that topped it. They stored them in the basement of a nearby church. When reconstruction began, those fragments were brought back and incorporated into the new portal. So part of the original palace physically returned. Luna: That's almost poetic — the eagle coming back after fifty years in storage. Lucas: It is. And it shows that even in a regime that wanted to erase the past, some people quietly preserved it. Now, the Humboldt Forum has become a lightning rod for arguments about Germany's colonial history — the collections include Benin bronzes and other objects taken during the colonial period. There are ongoing restitution claims, and the museum has to navigate that legacy. Luna: So the building isn't just a container for history — it's itself a subject of historical debate. Lucas: Exactly. And I think that's fitting for a country that has spent the last seventy-five years reckoning with its past. The Berlin Palace is a physical manifestation of Vergangenheitsbewältigung — coming to terms with history, but not always agreeing on how to do it. Luna: It makes you wonder what future generations will think when they walk through those reconstructed halls. Lucas: I hope they'll see it as a place where multiple histories coexist — the baroque monarchy, the revolutionary republic, the socialist alternative, and the global museum. Each layer adds depth. And maybe, like those laughing and crying masks, the building itself is an expression of the complexity of German identity.