Berliners remember the confusion, disbelief, overwhelming joy and emotional reunions they experienced twenty years ago to the day, on November 9, 1989.
Today, however, is a day not only for the Berliners but for the rest of the world. Over two thousand journalists and television crews, over thirty heads of state, and hundreds of thousands of visitors from around the world are here. This evening they will converge on the Brandenburger Tor (Brandenburg Gate), a focal point for the commemorations of the fall of the Berlin Wall, although it was never actually part of the Wall.
The Brandenburger Tor as Symbol
Every day Karl-Heinz zur Weihen of the Berlin Senate receives requests from advertisers and film makers to use the gate as a background. One installation artist wanted to drape a giant banana over the columns, another wanted to construct a rainbow above.
Why is the Brandenburger Tor such a powerful symbol?
Commissioned by Frederick William II in the late eighteenth century to replace the old baroque city gates, it was designed by the architect Carl Gotthard Langhans. Inspired by the Propylaea of Athens, Langhans brought the strict lines of neoclassical design to Berlin's city architecture. The double row of six Doric columns marked the outer end of the grand axis of Unter den Linden.
The "Horse Thief"
The gate's most distinctive feature is the copper quadriga above the central columns, the work of the young sculptor Johann Gottfried Schadow. The quadriga portrays the Roman goddess of victory, riding in her chariot drawn by four horses galloping into the eastern part of the city.
Napoleon bagged the quadriga -- chariot, goddess, horses and all -- when the French army defeated Prussia in 1806, and spirited it away to Paris. It was a matter of pride for the Prussian army when they returned the quadriga to Berlin in a triumphant procession after they had routed Napoleon's forces in 1814. The gate became a "Gate of Victory," and the square in which it stood became (and still is today) the Pariser Platz (Paris Square).
The Victory Gate
The gate remained a symbol of Prussian power and military might as long as the empire lasted. After that, it became the backdrop for military parades and ceremonial receptions. On the night of January 30, 1933, when Hitler was appointed Chancellor, rows of torch-bearing brownshirts paraded through the grand columns.
Today, however, is a day not only for the Berliners but for the rest of the world. Over two thousand journalists and television crews, over thirty heads of state, and hundreds of thousands of visitors from around the world are here. This evening they will converge on the Brandenburger Tor (Brandenburg Gate), a focal point for the commemorations of the fall of the Berlin Wall, although it was never actually part of the Wall.
The Brandenburger Tor as Symbol
Every day Karl-Heinz zur Weihen of the Berlin Senate receives requests from advertisers and film makers to use the gate as a background. One installation artist wanted to drape a giant banana over the columns, another wanted to construct a rainbow above.
Why is the Brandenburger Tor such a powerful symbol?
Commissioned by Frederick William II in the late eighteenth century to replace the old baroque city gates, it was designed by the architect Carl Gotthard Langhans. Inspired by the Propylaea of Athens, Langhans brought the strict lines of neoclassical design to Berlin's city architecture. The double row of six Doric columns marked the outer end of the grand axis of Unter den Linden.
The "Horse Thief"
The gate's most distinctive feature is the copper quadriga above the central columns, the work of the young sculptor Johann Gottfried Schadow. The quadriga portrays the Roman goddess of victory, riding in her chariot drawn by four horses galloping into the eastern part of the city.
Napoleon bagged the quadriga -- chariot, goddess, horses and all -- when the French army defeated Prussia in 1806, and spirited it away to Paris. It was a matter of pride for the Prussian army when they returned the quadriga to Berlin in a triumphant procession after they had routed Napoleon's forces in 1814. The gate became a "Gate of Victory," and the square in which it stood became (and still is today) the Pariser Platz (Paris Square).
The Victory Gate
The gate remained a symbol of Prussian power and military might as long as the empire lasted. After that, it became the backdrop for military parades and ceremonial receptions. On the night of January 30, 1933, when Hitler was appointed Chancellor, rows of torch-bearing brownshirts paraded through the grand columns.
By 1945 the gate was badly damaged, shot at first by the Germans after Soviet soldiers planted their red flag atop it, then by the Red Army. Reconstruction workers counted 50,000 bullet scars. After 1945, the gate stood within Soviet territory, but nobody stopped Berliners from walking through the gate, past the sign that said: You are now leaving the Soviet sector.
"Open this Gate!"
On August 13, 1961, the sound of power drills filled the square. Cement blocks were laid out in a semi-circle in front of the gate, marking the outer limits of Berlin's Mitte district and the inner boundary of the Soviet-occupied territory. This became one segment of the Berlin Wall. Soon the Brandenburger Tor stood in no-man's land, cut off from the West, accessible in the East only to guests and dignitaries invited by the State.
When John F. Kennedy visited in 1963, the heads of state in East Berlin had red banners hung between the columns to block the view into the east.
"As long as the Brandenburger Tor remains closed," said Richard von Weizsäcker, former President of the Federal Republic and the first head of state of a unified Germany "the German question remains open."
In 1987, Ronald Reagan's words echoed across the world: "Mister Gorbachev, open this gate!"
November 9, 1989
Then, on November 9, 1989, a documentary film camera and a microphone recorded how a woman from Linienstrasse in the former East Berlin, Bärbel Reinke, rushed up to one of the guards in front of the Brandenburger Tor and cried out in anger and frustration: "All I want is to go through these gates and back again. My sons serve in the army of the GDR -- is this all so hard to understand?" Her heart still beats faster, says Bärbel Reinke, when she rides her bicycle through the gate.
This evening, at 6:30 PM, when Daniel Barenboim's orchestra tunes up, I know where I'll be.
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