Architecture and politics in Germany, 1918-1945 9780674043503, 9780674043701

Table of contents :
Frontmatter
Introduction (page 1)
I The Revolution in Style (page 11)
II The New Architecture and the Vision of a New Society (page 41)
III The Controversy over the Bauhaus (page 69)
IV The New Architecture in the Service of Society (page 87)
V The Debate over the New Architecture (page 125)
VI The New Architecture and National Socialism (page 147)
VII The Evolution of Architectural Control under the Nazi Regime (page 169)
VIII Nazi Architecture (page 185)
Selected Bibliography (page 217)
Notes (page 231)
Index (page 271)

Citation preview

- Architecture and Politics in Germany

BLANK PAGE 7

Architecture and Politics in Germany, 1918-1945

by Barbara Miller Lane

Harvard University Press: Cambridge, Massachusetts London, England

To Jon, Ellie, and Steve

© Copyright 1968, 1985 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College All rights reserved

, Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data , Lane, Barbara Miller.

, Architecture and politics in Germany, 1918-1945.

Includes index. , Bibliography: p.

1. National socialism and architecture.

2. Architecture—Germany. I. Title.

NA1068.5.N37L36 1985 720’.1'03 85-8550 ISBN 0-674-04350-2 ISBN 0-674-04370-7 (pbk.)

Preface, 1985

In the seventeen years since this book was first published, there has

been extensive scholarship on all aspects of its subject matter: The history of the Bauhaus is now more fully understood, and biographies of the major figures in Germany’s modern movement have begun to

appear? Germany’s new architecture is now seen more clearly in rela- |

tion to architecture in the rest of Europe and the United States3 The | stylistic developments of the 1960s and 1970s, many of which were directed against “modernism” as it was then understood, have made

it clear that the International Style was not the beginning of a uni- | versal new style, but specific to its time and place, and only one part of a broader modern movement 4 Since 1968, Nazi architecture too has been fully, though not exhaustively, studied. The character of Nazi propaganda and Nazi ideology,

| in which architecture played such a large part, has come under close scrutiny, as have the life and actions of Adolf Hitler and other patrons

of architecture during the Third Reich} The “international style’ of the 1930s (as opposed to that of the 1920s), identified by Bruno Zevi in 1950 has been illuminated by many special studies, though there is as yet no comprehensive work on the public buildings of this period that cuts across national boundaries.” Some of the impetus for further interest in Nazi architecture, and in the architecture of the 1930s more generally, came from Albert Speer. Soon after his release from Spandau

Prison in 1966, Speer became a self-styled authority on all aspects of |

the Third Reich and gained an international audience through his memoirs and multitudinous public appearances. Speer’s impact on our understanding of the architecture of the 1930s has been complicated, however: his prominence as a commentator on Hitler’s regime has led many to see him as more important in the general development of Nazi architecture than he really was, while the often repeated association of his style with Nazi ideas has tended to continue the politicization of debate about architecture, especially in Europe’ In general, the period from 1968 to 1985 has seen the emergence of the architect as historian to a much greater degree than was the case when this book was conceived and written. Although Walter Gropius and Ernst May were eager to have their stories told, they were, on the

Architecture and Politics in Germany whole, glad to leave the task to professional historians. With Speer’s

apologias and the many efforts of postmodernist architects to redeem _ the classicizing styles of the 1930s, the number of works on twentieth

. century architecture has been vastly inflated by many varieties of special pleading. Our knowledge has been enriched by this situation, but dispassionate analysis now confronts many more pitfalls, aesthetic

and political, than before. My own interpretation of German architecture and politics has changed very little since 1968. My understanding of the ideological relationships among the Nazi leaders has expanded somewhat, as a result of my work on Nazi political writings. I have become more aware of the historical underpinnings of the International Style of the 1920s,

despite its explicitly antihistorical stance® I have also investigated alternative historical inspirations for some Nazi architecture — inspi-

rations which are not so much classicizing as undifferentiatedly “antique.’?¢ I think the ties of the rustic varieties of Nazi architecture to the traditions of national romanticism in Europe as a whole deserve

further study.’ The similarities between German architecture in the 1930s and that of the rest of the western world at the same time seem even more striking to me now than they originally did.? But the story of how German architecture was politicized, of what was built, and what was said and done about it, has not substantially changed.

Notes 1. Most of the private papers and documentary collections used in my original research have either changed hands since 1968, or are in the process of doing so. Both the May

| and Eckstein papers have been dispersed, but I own microfilm copies of the materials | that I used from those collections. The Mies van der Rohe papers, which I used at the Busch-Reisinger Museum, are now in the Bauhaus Archiv in Berlin. In 1968 a major Mies van der Rohe Archive was established at the Museum of Modern Art. Devoted | primarily to drawings, models, and photographs of Mies’ buildings and projects, the Archive also includes business correspondence, much of which is of considerable relevance to the issues considered here. The Troost papers, like most other captured German

documents, are on their way back to the Bundesarchiv in Koblenz. They have been | recatalogued, and after microfilming will be returned to Germany. As with other such

documents, the microfilms will be retained in this country, in this case probably by .

the Manuscript Division of the Library of Congress. The originals of the Fritz Sauckel : papers cited in n. 44, p. 241 (part of the “Records of the National Socialist German Labor Party, captured German documents filmed at Alexandria, Va., series T-81”) have also been returned; microfilm copies are retained by the National Archives. In contrast, the status of the Berlin Documents Center, and of the Library of the Institut fir Zeitgeschichte

in Munich, has not changed. For the Gropius papers, see note 2 below. | 2. The Bauhaus-Archiv, only recently established in Darmstadt by Hans-Maria Wingler when this book was first published, subsequently moved to Berlin, where it has offered scholars access to the full range of documentation. The materials which I used in Walter Gropius’ own collection, and which I later had microfilmed for Widener Library, can now be used more easily in Berlin. On the archive, see the English translation of Wingler’s first documentary collection, The Bauhaus: Weimar, Dessau, Berlin and Chicago. (Cambridge, Mass., 1969); H. M. Wingler, Bauhaus-Archiv Berlin, Museum

vi / ,

| fiir Gestaltung (Braunschweig, 1979); and Bauhaus-Archiv, Museum ftir Gestaltung

Preface (Berlin, 1981). Important scholarly works include Marcel Franciscono, Walter Gropius and the Creation of the Bauhaus in Weimar (Urbana, II|., 1971); Karl-Heinz Huter, Das

Bauhaus in Weimar (Berlin, 1976); and Frank Whitford, Bauhaus (New York, 1984). , Useful new information has become available on some of the major figures of the 1920s

and 1930s. For Behrens, see Tillman Buddensieg, Industriekultur: Peter Behrens und die AEG 1907-1914 (Berlin, 1979); Hans-Joachim Kadatz, Peter Behrens: Architekt, Maler, Grafiker und Formgestalter 1868-1940 (Leipzig, 1977); and Alan Windsor, Peter Behrens:

Architect and Designer (New York, 1981). For Gropius, see Reginald R. Isaacs, Walter Gropius: ein Mensch und sein Werk, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1983-1985); and Walter Gropius: Buildings, Plans, Projects 1906-1969 (Cambridge, Mass., 1972). For May, see Nicholas Bullock, “Housing in Frankfurt—1925 to 1931—and the new Wohnkultur,” Architectural Review, 163 no. 976 (June, 1978), 333-342; and Dieter Rebentisch, Ludwig Landmann, Frankfurter Oberbtirgermeister der Weimarer Republik (Wiesbaden, 1975). For Hannes Meyer, see H. M. Wingler, “Hannes Meyer,” in Kleine Bauhaus-Fibel; Geschichte und Wirken des Bauhaus 1919-1933 (Berlin, 1974); and Francesco Dal Co, ed., Hannes Meyer, Scritti 1921-1942 (Padua, 1973). For Mies, see Werner Blaser, Mies van der Rohe: Principles and School (Basel, 1977); Peter Carter, Mies van der Rohe at Work (New York,

1974); Ludwig Glaeser, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (New York, 1977); and Philip C. Johnson, ,

Mies Van Der Rohe, 3rd rev. ed. (New York, 1978). A new biography by Franz Schulze , is forthcoming; Richard Pommer is preparing a study of Mies’ politics in the early years of the Third Reich. For Bruno Taut, see Kurt Junghanns, Bruno Taut: 1880-1938 (Berlin,

1970); Iain Boyd Whyte, Bruno Taut and the Architecture of Activism (New York, 1982); , Helge Pitz and Winfried Brenne, Siedlung Onkel Tom, Zehlendorf (Berlin, 1980); Ronald Wiedenhoeft, “Workers’ Housing as Social Politics,’ VIA IV: Culture and the Social Vision

(Cambridge, Mass., 1980), 112-125; and the excellent exhibition catalog Bruno Taut |

1880-1938 (Berlin, 1980), which includes a number of important interpretative essays. Much of this work on Taut shows him to have been somewhat more important in the early phases of such organizations as the Arbeitsrat fiir Kunst and the Ring than I had originally thought. Thus, Gropius’ role was probably less that of an originator, and more that of a-leader and organizer, than my text suggests. The study of the lives of all the architects of this period has been made immeasurably easier by the publication of the Macmillan Encyclopedia of Architects, 4 vols. (New York, 1982). Various aspects of the context—intellectual, political, and aesthetic—of Germany’s new architecture have received significant attention since 1968. See, for example, Rosemarie Bletter, “The Interpretation of the Glass Dream; Expressionist Architecture and the History of the Crystal Metaphor,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 40 no. 1 (March, 1981), 20-43; Joan Campbell, The German Werkbund: The Politics of Reform in the Applied Arts (Princeton, N.J., 1978); Peter Gay, Weimar Culture: The Outsider as Insider (New York, 1968), and Art and Act (New York, 1980); Kristiana Hartmann, Die deutsche Gartenstadtbewegung (Munich, 1976); Wolfgang Pehnt, Expressionist

| Architecture (New York, 1973); and John Willett, Art and Politics in the Weimar Period: The New Sobriety 1917-1933 (New York, 1978). An intensive study of the Weissenhof

Siedlung by Christian Otto and Richard Pommer is forthcoming; see also Richard Pommer, ‘“The Flat Roof: A Modernist Controversy in Germany,’’ Art Journal, 43 (1983),

158-169; and Christian Otto, ‘‘Modern Environment and Historical Continuity: The Heimatschutz Discourse in Germany,’’ Art Journal, 43 (1983), 148-157. 3. General studies of architecture in other European countries include, for Italy, Gianni Accasto, Vanna Fraticelli, Renato Nicolini, L Architettura di Roma Capitale 1870-1970 (Rome, 1971); Luciano Patetta, L Architettura in Italia 1919-1943: Le Polemiche (Milan,

: 1972); Cesare De Seta, La Cultura Architettonica in Italia tra le due Guerre (Bari, 1972); | Silvio Danesi and Luciano Patetta, I] Razionalismo e l’architettura in Italia durante il fascismo (Venice, 1976); and Dennis Sharp ed., The Rationalists: Theory and Design in the Modern Movement (New York, 1979). For France, see Marc Emery, Un siécle de l’architecture moderne en France 1850-1950 (Paris, 1971). Helen Searing’s “With Red Flags Flying: Housing in Amsterdam, 1915-1923,” in Henry A. Millon and Linda Nochlin eds.,

Art and Architecture in the Service of Politics (Cambridge, Mass., 1978), 230-269, traces

the relations between housing policy and politics in the Netherlands, and Anthony : Jackson’s The Politics of Architecture: A History of Modern Architecture in Britain (London, 1970), explores the relations between architecture and politics in Great Britain over a longer period. An important general treatment of the same subject is Donald Drew Egbert, Social Radicalism and the Arts (New York, 1970).

/ vii

, Architecture and Politics in Germany | 4. Since the late 1960s, with the rise of the steel and glass box-like skyscraper and

the development of “new brutalism,” and also as a result of the beginning of what is now termed postmodernism, many writers began to argue that the modern movement was “dead.” See, for example, Peter Blake, Form Follows Fiasco: Why Modern Architecture

Hasn’t Worked (New York, 1977); Bent C. Brolin, The Failure of Modern Architecture

(New York, 1976); G. R. Blomeyer and B. Tietze eds., In Opposition zur Moderne (Wiesbaden, 1980); David Watkin, The Rise of Architectural History (London, 1980); and, forasummary of the new attitudes, Cesare De Seta, Originied Eclisse del Movimento Moderno (Rome, 1980). [Tom Wolfe’s amusing and wrongheaded conspiratorial theory of the spread of the International Style is another version of this type of argument: From Bauhaus to Our House (New York, 1981).] Much more fruitful have been those works , which have stressed the transformations of modernism in the new circumstances of the postwar period: see especially Arthur Drexler, Transformations in Modern Architecture (New York, 1979); and Adolf Max Vogt and others, Architektur 1940-1980 (Frankfurt am Main, 1980). Recently, a number of general histories have attempted to treat the twentieth century as a whole; the best of these offer a new and better integrated view of the 1920s in relation to the ensuing years. See especially Kenneth Frampton, Modern Architecture: A Critical History (New York, 1980); and William R. Curtis, Modern Architecture since 1900 (New York, 1982). 5. General works on Nazi architecture and planning include Joost Dilfer, Jochen Thies,

Josef Henke, Hitlers Stadte: Baupolitik im Dritten Reich (Cologne, 1978); Lars Olof Larsson, Die Neugestaltung der Reichshauptstadt: Albert Speers Generalbebauungsplan fiir Berlin (Stockholm 1978); Ordet i Sten: Byggnade och Planering i Nazismens Tyskland

(Stockholm, 1975); Joachim Petsch, Baukunst und Stadtplanung im Dritten Reich (Munich, 1976); Robert R. Taylor, The Word in Stone: The Role of Architecture in National Socialist Ideology (Berkeley, 1974); Mechtild Schump, Stadtbau-Utopien und Gesellschaft

(Gutersl6h, 1972); Roswitha Mattausch, Siedlungsbau und Stadtneugriindungen im deutschen Faschismus (Frankfurt am Main, 1981); and, especially for Hitler’s role, Jochen Thies, Architekt der Weltherrschaft: Die ‘Endziele’ Hitlers (Diisseldorf, 1976). Hans Peter

Rasp’s Eine Stadt fiir tausend Jahre. Miinchen, Bauten und Projekte fiir die Hauptstadt : , der Bewegung (Munich, 1981), is the first book to stress the important role of Hermann Giesler in Nazi architecture. Useful on particular buildings are Yasmin Doosry, “Formale

und Inhaltliche Aspekte der Antikenrezeption in der Architektur des Ntirnberger Reichsparteitagsgelaéndes: Thesen und Problemstellungen,” Hephaistos, I (1979), 109-126, and Angela Sch6nberger, Die neue Reichskanzlei von Albert Speer: Zum Zusammenhang von nationalsozialistischer Ideologie und Architektur (Berlin, 1981). Early interpretations which are still helpful are Anna Teut ed., Architektur im Dritten Reich 1933-45 (Berlin, 1967), and Hildegard Brenner, “Art in the Political Power Struggle of 1933 and 1934,” in Hajo Holborn ed., Republic to Reich: The Making of the Nazi Revolution (New York,

| 1973), 395-434 (first published in 1962). Some.aspects of Nazi planning for Berlin, together with the legacy of that planning in postwar Germany, are treated in my “The Berlin , -- Congress Hall 1955-57,” Perspectives in American History, Charles Warren Center for Studies in American History and Cambridge University Press, New Series, I (1984), 130-185.

The status of scholarship on Nazi ideology and propaganda, and on the biographies of major Nazi leaders as of 1978 is summed up in my introduction to Barbara Miller Lane and LeilaJ. Rupp, Nazi Ideology Before 1933: ADocumentation (Austin, Tex., 1978). The following books published since 1978 deserve particular attention: Gerhard Grimm,

Der Nationalsozialismus: Programm und Verwirklichung (Munich, 1981); Henry Grosshans, Hitler and the Artists (New York, 1983); Richard F. Hamilton, Who Voted for

Hitler? (Princeton, N.J., 1982); Adolf Hitler als Maler und Zeichner: Ein Werkkatalog der : Olgemdlde, Aquarelle, Zeichnungen und Architekturskizzen (Zug, 1983); Eberhard _ Jackel, Hitlers Weltanschauung: Entwurf einer Herrschaft, rev. ed. (Stuttgart, 1981); and Wolfgang R. Thorwirth, Wie links war der Nationalsozialismus? (Frankfurt am Main, . 1980). Further bibliography appears in The Third Reich, 1933—1939: A Historical Bibliography (Santa Barbara, Calif., 1984). An excellent summary treatment of the Third Reich in the context of modern German history appears in Gordon A. Craig, Germany 1866—1945(New York, 1978).

6. See below, p. 215, n. 61. 7. Many of the studies of Italian Rationalism mentioned in n. 3 above lay considerable emphasis on the 1930s. For Italy, see also Antonio Cederna, Mussolini Urbanista: Lo

viii /

Preface sventramento di Roma negli anni del consenso (Rome, 1979); Spiro Kostof, The Third Rome (Berkeley, Calif., 1977); Diane Yvonne Ghirardo, “Italian Architects‘and Fascist. Politics,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 39 no. 2 (May, 1980), 109-126; Henry A. Millon, “Some New Towns in Italy in the 1930's.” in Millon and Nochlin eds.,

Art and Architecture in the Service of Politics, 326-341; and William L. MacDonald, } “Excavation, Restoration, and Italian Architecture of the 1930’s,” in Helen Searing ed., In Search of Modern Architecture: A Tribute to Henry-Russell Hitchcock (New York, 1982), 298-320. For parallels in Soviet Russia, see Anatole Kopp, Town and Revolution: Soviet Architecture and City Planning 1917—1935 (New York, 1970); Kopp, L’architecture de la période stalinienne (Grenoble, 1978); and Alberto Samona and others. I] Palazzo dei Soviet, 1931—1933 (Rome, 1976). Little comparable work has been done on France or the United States; for Great Britain, the periodical Architectural Design has begun

: to publish a great deal from a postmodernist point of view. The most scholarly of these publications is Gavin Stamp ed., Britain in the Thirties (London, 1981). 8. Speer’s own writings include his Erinnerungen (Berlin, 1969; translated as Inside

| the Third Reich, New York, 1970); Spandauer Tagebticher (Berlin, 1975; translated as Spandau: the Secret Diaries, New York, 1976); Technik und Macht (Esslingen am Neckar, 1979); and Der Sklavenstaat: meine Auseinandersetzung mit der SS (Stuttgart, 1981;

translated as Infiltration: How Heinrich Himmler Schemed to Build an SS Industrial Empire, New York, 1981). Publications of Speer’s works include Karl Arnst and others, Albert Speer: Arbeiten, 1933—1942 (Frankfurt am Main, 1978). As a result of the writings and his many public appearances, Speer’s architecture and his political career have attracted both extreme admirers and extreme detractors; the range of views is

summed up in Adelbert Reif ed., Albert Speer, Kontroversen um ein deutsches

Phdénomen (Munich, 1978). There is as yet no scholarly biography, though Matthias | : Schmidt provides a summary treatment of the career in the process of examining the

memoirs and testing their validity: Albert Speer: Das Ende eines Mythos (Berlin, 1982;

translated as Albert Speer: The End of a Myth, New York, 1984). For further

biographical information and interpretation, see my ‘‘Albert Speer, 1905—1981,”’ Skyline: The Architecture and Design Review (New York, December 1981), 8—9; and my entry on Speer in the Macmillan Encyclopedia of Architects (New York, 1982), IV, 115-116. 9. See, for example, Barbara Miller Lane, “Changing Attitudes to Monumentality:

An Interpretation of European Architecture and Urban Form,” in Growth and Transformation of the Modern City (Stockholm, 1979), 101-114; and Lane, ‘Government

Buildings in European Capitals, 1870-1914,’ in Urbanisierung im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert: Historische und geographische Aspekte (Cologne, 1983), 517-560. On Nazi political writings, see especially the evaluations of the ideological contributions of Darré, Rosenberg, and the Strassers in Lane and Rupp, Nazi Ideology before 1933, passim. 10. Seemyreview of Inside the Third Reich in the Journal of the Society of Architectural

Historians, 32 no. 4 (December 1973), 341-346, which discusses the influence upon Speer of Assyrian, Babylonian, and Egyptian archaeology. 11. See Lane, “Government Buildings,’ n. 9 above; and my entries on Bonatz, Diilfer, Korner, Kreis, and Thiersch, Macmillan Encyclopedia of Architects (New York, 1982). 12. This point is developed at some length in my “‘Architects in Power,” forthcoming in Jonathan Brown and Theodore Raab eds., The Evidence of Art: Images and Meaning

, in History.

/ ix

BLANK PAGE

Contents

Introduction 1 I / The Revolution in Style 11

New Society 41 ,

II / The New Architecture and the Vision of a | III / The Controversy over the Bauhaus 69 IV / The New Architecture in the Service of Society 87

V / The Debate over the New Architecture 125 VI / The New Architecture and National Socialism 147

Nazi Regime 169 VIII / Nazi Architecture 185 VII / The Evolution of Architectural Control under the

Notes | | 231 Index , 271

Selected Bibliography , 217

Illustrations and Sources

photographer). 12

1. New Town Hall, Munich (Baureferat Miinchen, Ewald Glesman | 2. Alfred Messel, Wertheim Department Store (Karl Robert Lange-

wiesche Nachfolger Hans Késter, KOnigstein im Taunus). 13

, , 3. Peter Behrens, Administration Building of the Mannesmann

Works (Langewiesche — KOster). 14

4, Paul Bonatz, Railroad Station, Stuttgart (Langewiesche — Koster). 15 5. Railroad Station, Stuttgart (from G. A. Platz, Die Baukunst der

neuesten Zeit, courtesy Propylaen Verlag, Berlin). 15

6. Paul Schultze-Naumburg, House in Cologne (from Paul Schultze-

Naumburg, Bauten Schultze-Naumburgs). 16

Schultze-Naumburgs). , 17

7. Paul Schultze-Naumburg, Steinhorst Estate (from Bauten

8. Heinrich Tessenow, Row Houses (Langewiesche — KOster}. 18 , 9. Bruno Taut, Siedlung Falkenberg (Langewiesche — KOster). 18 | , 10. Peter Behrens, House at Kiinstler Kolonie (from Platz, courtesy

Propylden Verlag). 19

Verlag). 21

courtesy Propyléen Verlag). 20 12. Hans Poelzig, Chemical Factory (from Platz, courtesy Propylaen 11. Josef Maria Olbrich, House at Kiinstler Kolonie (from Platz,

13. Henri van de Velde, Theater (from Jahrbuch des Deutschen Werkbundes 1915, courtesy F. Bruckmann KG Verlag, Munich). 22 14. Friedrich von Thiersch, Exhibition Hall {from Platz, courtesy

Propylaéen Verlag). 23

15. Walter Gropius, Fagus Factory, Workshops (Walter Gropius). 24 16. Fagus Factory, Warehouses (Langewiesche — KOster). 25 17. Walter Gropius, Factory Administration Building (Museum of

Modern Art, courtesy Walter Gropius). 26

18. Bruno Taut, “Glashaus” (from Jahrbuch des Deutschen Werk-

bundes 1915, courtesy F. Bruckmann KG Verlag). 26 ,

19. Walter Gropius, Bauhaus Buildings, aerial view (Walter Gropius). 28

20. Bauhaus Buildings (Walter Gropius). 28 21. Bauhaus Buildings (Langewiesche — K@Oster). 29

22. Karl Schneider, Romer House, entry (Langewiesche — KOster). 30

Modern Art). 32 Koster). 33

23. R6mer House, garden side (Langeweische — KO6ster). 31 24. Erich Mendelsohn, Schocken Department Store (Museum of

25. City Trolley Park Offices, Frankfurt am Main (Langewiesche —

, 26. Bruno Taut, Apartment House, Berlin (from E. M. Hajos and L.

Zahn eds., Berliner Architektur der Nachkriegszeit). 34

27. Bruno Taut & Martin Wagner, Hufeisen Siedlung (from Berliner

Architektur der Nachkriegszeit). 35

, xii |

28. Paul Bonatz, Office Building (Langewiesche — K@ster). 36 29, Fritz Héger, ‘“Chilehaus” (Staatliche Landesbildstelle Hamburg). 37 | 30. Adolf Abel, Exhibition Hall (Langewiesche — K6ster). 37

31. Emil Fahrenkamp, Office Building (from W. Rittich, Architektur

und Bauplastik der Gegenwart). ; 38

, tur der Nachkriegszeit). 38 32. Werner March, Indoor Sports Buildings (from Berliner Architek-

Verlag). 39 wiesche — KOster). 40 Koster). 54

33. Row Housing, Niirnberg (from A. Gut, Das Wohnungswesen in

Deutschland nach dem Weltkrieg, courtesy F. Bruckmann KG ,

34. Paul Mebes and Paul Emmerich, “Siedlung Heidehof” (Lange-

35. Bruno Taut, Alpine Architektur, p. 10. 47 36. Hans Poelzig, Grosses Schauspielhaus (Langewiesche — K6ster). 53 37. Erich Mendelsohn, Einstein Observatory (Langewiesche —

38. Erich Mendelsohn, Hat Factory (Langewiesche — K6ster). 55

Gropius). 58

| 39. Walter Gropius, Municipal Theater, Jena (Walter Gropius). 57 40. Walter Gropius and Bauhaus Students, Models of Houses (Walter

41. Bauhaus Exhibition House, interior (from Ein Versuchshaus des

Bauhauses in Weimar, courtesy Walter Gropius). 59

courtesy Walter Gropius). 59 ,

_ 42, Bauhaus Exhibition House, interior (from Ein Versuchshaus,

— Koster). 60

43. Erich Mendelsohn, Weichmann Department Store (Langewiesche

, 44, Erich Mendelsohn, Villa Sternefeld (Langewiesche — KGster). 61 45. Otto Haesler, Siedlung Italienischer Garten (from O. Haesler,

Mein Lebenswerk als Architekt). , 62

Modern Art). 63

46. Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Project for a Brick Villa (Museum of 47. Bruno Taut, Design for Dining Room and Bedroom (from B. Taut, ~

Die neue Wohnung, courtesy Klinkhardt & Biermann: Richard

Carl Schmidt & Co., Braunschweig). 63

benswerk). 91

48. Oskar Fischer, Decoration of the Barasch Store, Magdeburg (from Frithlicht 1920—1922, courtesy Ullstein GmbH, Berlin). 64 49. Otto Haesler, Siedlung Georgsgarten (from Haesler, Mein Le-

Koster). 92 Koster). 94

50. Siedlung Georgsgarten (from Haesler, Mein Lebenswerk). 91

51. Siedlung Bruchfeldstrasse, Frankfurt, street (Langewiesche —

52. Siedlung Bruchfeldstrasse, court (Langewiesche — KOster). 93 53. Community Center, Siedlung Bruchfeldstrasse (Langewiesche —

54. Siedlung Hohenblick, Frankfurt (Langewiesche — KOster). 95 55. Siedlung R6merstadt, view from Nidda Valley (Museum of

Modern Art, courtesy Ernst May). 96

56. Siedlung Rémerstadt, Row Housing (Ernst May). 97

courtesy Ernst May). 97

57. Siedlung Rémerstadt, Row Housing (Museum of Modern Art,

58. Siedlung Praunheim, Restaurant (Langewiesche — Koster). 98 59. Siedlung Rémerstadt, Apartment Building (Ernst May). 100 60. Siedlung Rémerstadt, Apartment Building (Ernst May). 101

Ernst May). 102

| 61. Siedlung Westhausen, plan (from Das neue Frankfurt, courtesy

Xill

62. Hufeisen Siedlung, Berlin, aerial view (Verband Berliner Woh-

| nungsbaugenossenschaften und -gesellschaften e. V., Berlin). 105

baugenossenschaften). 106

63. Waldsiedlung, Berlin, aerial view (Verband Berliner Wohnungs-

64. Waldsiedlung (Museum of Modern Art). 107

, 65. Waldsiedlung (Langewiesche — KOster). 107

66. Hufeisen Siedlung (Langewiesche — Koster). 108 67. Hufeisen Siedlung (from B. Taut, Modern Architecture). 109

68. Bruno Taut, Hufeisen Siedlung, plan (Verband Berliner Woh-

nungsbaugenossenschaften). 109 nungsbaugenossenschaften). | 109 70. Walter Gropius, Siemensstadt (Walter Gropius). 110

69. Bruno Taut, Hufeisen Siedlung, plan (Verband Berliner Woh-

71. Siemensstadt (Walter Gropius). 111 72. Police Administration Building, Berlin (from H. Johannes, Neues

Bauen in Berlin, courtesy Deutscher Kunstverlag GmbH, Munich). 112 73. Erich Mendelsohn, Project for Alexanderplatz (from Das neue

Berlin, courtesy Mrs. Martin Wagner). | 113

74, Erich Mendelsohn, Columbus House (Ullstein GmbH). 113 75. Hugo Haring, Project for Ministergarten (from Das neue Berlin, ~

courtesy Mrs. Martin Wagner). 114

, 76. Apartment Block, Miinster (Stadtisches Hochbauamt, Miinster). 115

Bruckmann KG Verlag). 115

77. Single-family Housing, Disseldorf (from Gut, courtesy F.

, mann Verlag). KG Verlag}.116 116 78. Multi-family Dwellings, Dresden (from Gut, courtesy F. Bruck79. Row Housing, Hannover (from Gut, courtesy F. Bruckmann KG

Gropius). 117 tesy Walter Gropius). 118

80. Walter Gropius, City Employment Office, Dessau (Walter

| Gropius). 119 © Wiirttemberg). 121 81. Walter Gropius, Siedlung Térten (Museum of Modern Art, cour- :

82. Siedlung Térten (Museum of Modern Art, courtesy Walter

83. Weissenhof Siedlung, Stuttgart (Landesbildstelle Wiirttemberg). 120 84. Corbusier, House at Weissenhof Siedlung (Landesbildstelle

K6ster). , 123 }

85. Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Apartment Building at Weissenhof

Siedlung (Museum of Modern Art). 122

86. Siedlung Gross-Diesdorferstrasse, Magdeburg (Langewiesche — . 87. Wilhelm Riphahn, Siedlung Kalkerfeld (Langewiesche — K6ster). 124

. _ 88. Das neue Frankfurt, April/May, 1930, cover (courtesy Ernst May). 126 , 89. Paul Ludwig Troost, House of German Art (Library of Congress,

Congress). 192 |

Prints and Photographs Division). , 191

90. Albert Speer, Party Congress Grounds, model (Library of |

91. Albert Speer, Zeppelinfeld (Library of Congress). 194

92. Zeppelinfeld, entry side (Library of Congress). , 195 :

Bauen im neuen Reich). 196

93. Clemens Klotz, Ordensburg Vogelsang (from G. Troost, Das

XIV

94, Clemens Klotz, Ordensburg Créssinsee (Library of Congress). 197 95. Herman Giesler, Ordensburg Sonthofen (Library of Congress). 197

96. Hitler Youth Hostel (from Troost). 198 , 97. Hitler Youth Hostel (from Rittich). 199 98. Weather Service Broadcasting Station (from Troost). 199

, 99. Autobahn Garage (from Troost). 200 100. Ernst Sagebiel, Air Force Ministry (from Troost). 201

101. Air Force Ministry, Offices (from Troost). 202

102. District Hospital, Vaihingen-Enz (from Rittich). 203 103. School at Allach, Bavaria (Library of Congress). 203

Troost). — 204 |

104. Air Force Ministry, Deutsche Versuchsanstalt fiir Luftfahrt (from

105. Apartment Buildings, Niirnberg (from Troost). 207 106. Apartment Buildings, Braunschweig (Verband Berliner Woh-

nungsbaugenossenschaften). 207

baugenossenschaften). 208

107. Housing Development, Aachen (Verband Berliner Wohnungs-

108. Siedlung Heddernheim, Frankfurt (from Troost). , 209 , 109. Siedlung Ramersdorf, Munich, site plan (from Wasmuths Monats-

hefte fur Baukunst und Stddtebau, courtesy Ullstein GmbH). 211

XV

, List of Abbreviations a BDA Bund Deutscher Architekten DAF Deutsche Arbeitsfront :| DAZ Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung

DNVP Deutschnationale Volkspartei

| DWB Deutscher Werkbund , DVP Deutsche Volkspartei

Gagfah Gemeinniitzige Aktiengesellschaft fiir AngestelltenHeimstatten Gehag Gemeinntitzige Heimstatten-Aktiengesellschaft KDAI Kampfbund deutscher Architekten und Ingenieure

, KDK KPD Kampfbund fir deutsche Kultur : , Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands NSFP Nationalsozialistische Freiheits-Partei NSDAP Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei

RDBK _ Reichskammer der bildenden Kiinste . RFG_ Reichsforschungsgesellschaft fiir Wirtschaftlichkeit im Bau- und

, Wohnungswesen RKK Reichskulturkammer

SPD Sozialistische Partei Deutschlands VB Volkischer Beobachter

Introduction

Only three weeks after the passage of the Enabling Act, on April 12, 1933, the Nazi regime shut down the Bauhaus in Berlin. The closing of the by then internationally famous center of avant-garde

art and architecture was one of the first steps in a campaign to | eliminate many “‘modern” tendencies in German art and to impose more traditional artistic canons in the name of German nationalism and German history. The Nazi government compelled Walter Gropius, Erich Mendelsohn, Paul Klee, Wassily Kandinsky, and other leading modern architects and painters to leave the country, removed from public view the paintings and sculptures of these

men and their followers, and forced into retirement many of the |

modern artists and architects who remained in Germany. At the same time the new regime sought to establish general control over

. all the arts through the Reichskulturkammer, a government-spon-

sored professional organization to which all artists and architects were forced to belong. By expelling some modern artists and con- | .

|1 trolling the work of the men who remained in Germany, the Nazi

government was able to influence profoundly the character of artistic production during the years in which it held power.

| The Nazi government’s violent attack upon leading modern

artists, and its attempt to extend its political control to the visual , , arts, quickly attracted the attention of historians and political scientists. The best study of Nazi artistic policy was written as

early as 1936, when Emil Wernert published his L’art dans le III° Reich, a comprehensive analysis of the mechanisms of Nazi artistic control. In the decade after the war, Paul Ortwin Rave and Hellmut Lehmann-Haupt carried Wernert’s account further, Rave in a dis-

| cussion of Nazi opposition to modern painting, Lehmann-Haupt in a comparative study of artistic control under Stalin, Hitler, and

Mussolini.’ The wide variety of books on Nazi government which | have been written since that time have depended heavily on these | works for their discussion of the artistic side of Nazi cultural policy. But none of these books, which concentrate upon the meth- |

2/ Architecture and Politics in Germany ods of artistic control, has shown why the Nazi regime repudiated

some types of art and endorsed others. Nor do they help us to understand the reasons for the great significance of the visual arts in the cultural program of the new government. Lehmann-Haupt’s argument is typical of most of these studies. He claimed that Nazi control of the arts could be sufficiently ex-

plained by the need of “totalitarian” regimes to regulate every channel of individual self-expression, even those, like the arts,

| which are normally least relevant to politics. The role of the arts in Nazi cultural propaganda is explained in a similar manner: ‘“‘totalitarian’’ regimes necessarily seek to express their ideology through every medium of communication. But these views, though they may help to explain the setting up of the Reichskulturkammer, clearly leave many questions unanswered. Even if artistic regulation is a necessary concomitant of modern dictatorships, why did the Nazi

regime select for violent opposition modern art and architecture, | while giving great encouragement to other styles? And even if the

Nazi regime sought to express its ideology through all types of communications, why should the arts, and particularly the visual arts, have played such a positive and prominent role in the propaganda of the Nazi state? This book is an attempt to answer these questions with regard to architecture. Previous studies of the visual arts in Nazi Germany have placed their major emphasis upon painting and sculpture.’ Yet architecture was far more important in the Nazi artistic program than any of the other arts. The attack upon modern art began with the attack upon the Bauhaus as a school of architecture, and when the regime initiated a positive artistic policy after 1933, it poured enormous sums into its building program and its architectural propaganda. This concern with architecture was not merely a result of Hitler’s personal interest. Hitler did supervise the designs of anumber of official buildings, but the largest proportion of Nazi construction was commissioned by other Nazi leaders. All these official buildings were ceaselessly photographed and commented upon by Goebbels’ propaganda machine, which described them to the public as the “expression” of the Nazi ideology and the epitome of its cultural program. A discussion of the way in which architecture, often seen as the least political of all the arts, became political under the Nazis should help to explain the policy of the regime toward

the other arts as well.

It is the contention of the following chapters that the Nazis exercised control over architectural style not simply because it was

the habit of the new regime to regulate public opinion. They did so because they saw architectural styles as symbols of specific

| Introduction / 3 | | political views, and they believed this to be more true of architec- | ture than of the other arts. This belief was not, however, the

product of the ‘‘totalitarian” structure of the Nazi state. The Nazis inherited a political view of architecture from the Weimar Republic,

and any discussion of Nazi architectural policy must trace the

sources of this inheritance in the republican period. , The political symbolism which architecture acquired in Nazi

propaganda had its origins in the circumstances surrounding the , development of “modern” architecture during the Weimar period. |

In the twenties, modern architecture was extraordinarily success- | ful in Germany. Buildings in radical new styles were commissioned in far greater numbers than in any other country. But this brilliant

success quickly produced a bitter public controversy about the |

political significance of architecture, and this controversy was Carried on for a decade before the Nazi party began to participate in it.

After 1930, the Nazis took the lead in the debate and devised an

architectural policy tailored to the views of the opponents of modern architecture. It was thus this earlier controversy which gave political importance to architecture in Germany. To explain the architectural policy of the Nazi regime, we must understand both the development of modern architecture in Germany and the | character of the opposition it aroused in the years between 1918 and 1930.

The involvement of German architecture in politics grew initially out of the special character of one type of modern architecture, and out of the special conditions under which the development of this new style began in Germany. At the very beginning of the Weimar

Republic, a few German architects created a revolutionary new style, which appeared to be wholly without roots in the past. This style, described in Germany as the “Bauhaus style’ or the “new architecture,’ was developed in France, Switzerland, and Holland

, at the same time. In these countries, as in Germany, its radical rejection of past architectural tradition represented a response to

the cataclysm of war. Throughout Europe, “radical” architects came to share with other intellectuals the belief that the Great War spelled the end of an outworn system of values; and the style which they created was consciously intended to express their violent rejection of the past. Where buildings were erected in this style, its startling appearance was often greeted with dismay by the public. But outside Germany, the proponents of the new architecture re-

ceived few commissions, and their work did not attract general public interest until the thirties. In Germany, on the other hand, architects like Walter Gropius and Erich Medelsohn executed a great many important commissions during the twenties; and their

4/ Architecture and Politics in. Germany

work, and that of their colleagues, received extensive publicity and wide critical acclaim. But the very success of the new style produced strong opposition, which rapidly became political in character. The development of political opposition to the new architecture

was in part the product of the way in which the German creators of the new style thought about their work. Late in 1918, three years before they had decided upon what form the new style should take, a group of radical architects under the leadership of Walter Gropius began to claim that they were preparing a new, socially conscious

architecture which would play a part in the political revolution then occurring in Germany. This new style would ‘“‘express”’ the new culture and the new society which they believed the revolution would produce, and they demanded that the newly founded Republic support their work. Their writings and exhibitions made these

claims known to a considerable public at the very beginning of the republican era. These ideas in themselves helped to give the new style revolu-

tionary associations which it lacked in other countries, and the way in which the new architecture developed heightened its appearance of political purpose. The new architecture achieved its success in Germany primarily through government patronage. The Bauhaus, the architectural school which Gropius set up in Weimar

in 1919, was the first product of this patronage; a few years later | the radical architects received as their largest commissions the great new mass-housing projects built in many major German cities.

The new style therefore came to be identified with the liberal and left-wing municipal governments which constructed these housing developments and, because the federal government bore part of the cost of public housing, with the housing program of the republican government. These housing projects were given extensive publicity in popular journals and in the press, which identified the new architecture as part of a ‘‘new era’ in German society. The association of the new style with a new society and with some type of political sponsorship thus became increasingly common throughout the

twenties, not only among its opponents, but also among its ad-

mirers.

The public controversy over the new architecture began in Weimar, almost as soon as the Bauhaus was founded, and continued

throughout the life of the Weimar Republic. During the period 1919-1924, the citizens of Weimar and Thuringia debated the politi-

| cal and social implications of Gropius’ ideas and his school’s curriculum; and right-wing newspapers and politicians began to charge

the school with fostering ‘“‘bolshevist architecture’ and ‘art bol-

oe Introduction / 5 shevism.” This phase of the controversy over the new architecture ended in 1924, when local opposition forced Gropius to move his school to the more hospitable city of Dessau. From 1924 (when the end of the inflation permitted the resumption of building activity on a large scale) to 1930, the controversy continued on the national

. level and centered primarily around the character of the housing developments designed by radical architects. During this period, the opponents of the ‘“‘Bauhaus style,” chiefly architects and govern-

ment officials, described this type of modern architecture as the product of large-scale urbanization and a mass society dominated by machine technology. In opposition to this “bolshevist” style they called for a ‘‘German” architecture which would help to retain the values of an older, more rural type of society. By 1929, popular

right-wing newspapers had taken up these arguments and had , begun to give them wide publicity. As the Nazi party attempted to expand its national appeal after 1928, the breadth of public interest

in the association of architecture and politics forced the Nazi leaders to take a stand in the controversy over the new style. The involvement of German architecture in politics thus had its

origins in the specific events of the postwar era. The creation of a , radically new architectural style by architects who consciously | sought to express a wholly new era in German society, the rapid rise of these men to a leading position in German architecture under the auspices of a “revolutionary” new government; all this grew out of the experience of war and revolution in Germany. But

if these events created the conditions for political controversy over | architecture, the political involvement of architecture in Germany

after 1918 had its ultimate source, notin any single chain of circum- |

stance, but in the characteristic atmosphere of Weimar Germany. This atmosphere, which inescapably, almost palpably, confronts every student of the period, was compounded of extravagant artistic creativity and extreme political instability. Out of the fourteen years of the Weimar Republic, only six, from 1924 to 1930, were years of even relative political stability. Five years of violent revo-

lutionary agitation by both Right and Left preceded this brief period; three more followed it. Both periods of political chaos were

accompanied by economic disaster. Politically the Republic was characterized by revolutionary experimentation and utopian hopes; it was stable enough to prolong these hopes for fourteen years, not strong enough to substitute for them a viable new system. But under this precarious political regime, Germany became, for

a brief period, the most active cultural center of Europe. Klee, Feininger, Kandinsky, the Russian constructivists, and many others

migrated to Germany; Kafka published his works there; the |

6 / Architecture and Politics in Germany

Dadaists exhibited there; Josephine Baker and Paul Robeson per-

formed there. Every type of artistic experiment flourished in Weimar Germany, and every new “ism” found an audience. The spirit of innovation extended to every aspect of cultural life: to the stage, in the musical drama of Brecht and Weill and the productions of Reinhardt and Piscator; to the film with the production of Cali-

gari and its successors; and, under the leadership of the Bauhaus, to all the applied arts. Like the political system which gave them its protection, the arts were characterized by feverish experiment and utopian hopes for a “new style”; in their brevity, brilliance, and disorder they seemed to share in the essence of the Republic’s political life. For citizens of the Weimar Republic, the experience of artistic, political, social, and economic change was a total one; and they therefore easily believed that the new architecture expressed a radically new era. The way in which political controversy over architecture devel-

oped in Germany was thus primarily the result of the Weimar | experience and the special factors which conditioned it. But the » development of German intellectual history before 1918 also contributed to the political involvement of architecture, by helping to create a political view of art. For a century before 1870, German nationalism had to remain cultural rather than political in its focus; during that time the quest for ‘‘Germanness” in the arts begun by Herder and the Sturm und Drang group was intimately bound up with aspirations toward political unity. After the unification of Germany, many nationalists found a political outlet for their sentiments, but German intellec-

tuals retained the habit of looking for links between culture and politics. Thus, in the eighties and nineties, when opposition to Bismarck’s Empire began to develop, and the politics, social structure

and economic policies of the new state encountered increasing criticism, a number of German intellectuals translated this criticism into cultural terms. Men like Lagarde, Langbehn, and Moeller van

den Bruck, whom Fritz Stern has described as the authors of a “politics of cultural despair,’* saw in the politics of the second empire signs of the decay of the national culture in all its aspects and dreamed of a mystical national regeneration. But whereas the German nationalists of the era before unification had looked back , to the poetry and drama of Goethe, Schiller, and the “classical age” for symbols of national unity, these latter day prophets turned to the visual arts. In his widely popular Rembrandt as Educator, Julius ‘Langbehn attributed to the Dutchman’s painting the “Germanic” qualities of irrationalism, individuality, and spontaneity which alone could reverse the decadence of contemporary society. Arthur

Introduction / 7 | Moeller van den Bruck expanded these ideas in a variety of publica-

tions from 1902 onward and then, just after the beginning of the first World War, turned to architectural symbolism to express his condemnation of Wilhelmine society. In The Prussian Style, he described the architecture of Gilly and Schinkel as expressions of the combination of heroism and obedience necessary to win the war. For Moeller, the process of war itself would fuse these qualities with the romantic and creative spirit of a greater Germany and result in a mystical regeneration of the creative power of the nation. Under the great influence of these two men, these ideas about the political implications of painting and architecture passed into the mainstream of neoconservative thought in Germany. They also helped to condition the thinking of German artists about the significance of their work. But even before the war, this intellectual tradition had led many

German artists to think of their work as having broad implications , |

for the life of the nation as a whole. Among these artists, the most important in their influence upon the development of the architec- ~* tural controversies of the twenties were Wagner and the German

expressionists. Wagner’s “‘music-drama”’ was to be a ‘‘total work |

of art,” in which the most ‘‘abstract’”’ of all the arts, music, comes ,

to embrace the whole of life by being joined to drama and poetry. Wagner’s prolific writings often predicted that the ‘‘art work of the

, future” would usher in a “spiritual revolution,” in, to be sure, some very distant time. Taken in combination with his racism and his , German nationalism, Wagner’s theories came very close to those of Langbehn and Lagarde. Apart from his Germanicism, however,

Wagner’s view of the role of music in society resembles the radical |

have influenced it. architects’ definition of the new architecture and may very well

The artistic tendencies of the last few years before the war gave added impetus to this kind of thinking. The multifaceted literary and artistic movement which is usually described as German expressionism produced not only an extraordinary variety of new forms, but also a new philosophy of art. Expressionist dramatists and poets described the arts as the exclusive key to knowledge. Neither science nor conventional religion could explain reality; only the symbolic language of the creative artist offered a bridge

between mind and matter. This inclusive view of art had been

implicit in much of German aesthetic philosophy for a century, but | the writings of the German expressionists gave it new political , overtones. Many of the German expressionists were motivated by

a social conscience and hoped for a “new society” in which art could be “brought back to the people.” They shared in the cultural

8 / Architecture and Politics in Germany

pessimism of Lagarde and Moeller and like them hoped for some kind of mystical regeneration in the body politic. But insofar as their prophesies had conventional political direction, they tended toward the left, rather than the right. They were therefore the most immediate intellectual ancestors of the radical architects of the twenties. Together with the works of the prophets of cultural des-

pair and the members of the Wagner cult, their writings accelerated | a long-standing tendency in Germany to regard the arts as a focus of political concern and provided the background against which

the architectural controversies of the twenties and thirties took place.

The intellectual atmosphere of the Weimar Republic gave to . these older views a new urgency and a wider public, while the development of architectural style and writing focused these beliefs upon architecture. Thus by 1930 the new style had come to symbolize for a broad public most of the political, social, and cultural changes of the Weimar Republic. Its friends and opponents

alike thought of the new architecture as an expression of rapid

| industrialization and as a symbol of the vast modern metropolis. Moreover, because of its origins and patronage, they identified it

with the Weimar Republic itself and the revolution which had created the Republic. When the Nazi party at last entered the controversy over the new style, it was therefore able to discover among the issues in this debate a set of propaganda symbols of immense utility. By opposing the new architecture and supporting its opponents, the Nazi party could proclaim its opposition to the political

and economic failures of the Republic without committing itself to a concrete political and economic program. This was the role _ which the party assigned to architectural propaganda from 1930 on,

and the Nazi propaganda specialists exploited these themes with | extraordinary skill. But this opposition to the new architecture as the symbol of the weakness of Weimar society compelled the Nazis to accept the idea

that architecture was of central importance to the national life. Hitler’s speeches had indeed reflected this view as early as 1920, but the party as a whole was not committed to it until the propaganda campaign against ‘‘architectural bolshevism”’ began. After 1930, the position taken by party propaganda forced the Nazis to promise to launch a building program which would express their own ideology.

The party began to fulfill this promise as soon as it came to

| power, and an analysis of the Nazi building program therefore affords considerable insight into the character of Nazi ideology. The cultural policy of the new regime as reflected in its building

Introduction / 9 program was, like Nazi ideology itself, confused and contradictory.

Among the makers of official architectural policy, at least four different factions developed. Some of the new leaders of govern- mentand party sought to recall the traditions of the German middle ages by encouraging neo-Romanesque styles in architecture, while

others favored the neoclassical manner in order to suggest that Nazism incorporated: ‘‘eternal’’ values. Some were primarily concerned to assert the rural character of Nazi society and therefore encouraged primitive ‘folk’ styles derived from the countryside; others were outspoken in their support of a revolutionary ‘“‘modern” style which would express the newness of the new regime. Thus despite the party’s claim to have substituted for the new architecture a uniform new ‘national socialist” style, the rivalries

of these factions permitted almost every type of architecture to be ,

constructed, including buildings which closely resembled the work of the radical architects whom the Nazis had opposed. The regime did, to be sure, establish the legal mechanisms with which to exert centralized control over architecture; but this control was far less effective than has usually been supposed. Behind a facade of inten-

sive architectural propaganda, the new state permitted German architecture to develop in relative freedom, under the personal patronage of high party and government officials. Nazi architectural policy was not the product of a monolithic totalitarian system, but of feuds and power struggles. The Nazi building program reflected not a new totalitarian ideology, but a series of conflicting

ideas which were themselves rooted in and conditioned by the architectural controversies of the Weimar period.

| This history of three decades of the involvement of German architecture in politics touches on many problems which cannot be solved in a book which cuts across so many topics. In the discus-

sion of housing during the twenties, it becomes clear that the _ Republic’s housing program was one of its more significant accom-

plishments, and one which was hotly debated among Weimar politicians. The political history of this program, largely neglected here, thus offers an important key to the social aims of the major republican parties. The architectural patronage of a few municipalities is described in Chapter IV, but the larger question of the renaissance in municipal patronage of all the arts during the Weimar Republic is of necessity ignored, and this subject is of central importance in understanding the cultural history of Weimar Germany.

The description of the opposition of conservative architects to the | new architecture in Chapter V shows that, whatever their differences, they all shared a passionate hatred of the metropolis. It would be useful to know to what extent other German conserva-

| 10 / Architecture and Politics in Germany tives also held this view of the modern city, since the period was one of particularly rapid urban growth. Chapter VI analyzes the development of Nazi architectural propaganda between 1928 and 1933 and shows that this propaganda was heavily dependent upon the ideas of the conservative architects. It is important to know whether this relationship with Weimar conservatism holds true for Nazi cultural propaganda as a whole; if so, then the commitments which party propaganda made before 1933 helped to determine the development of Nazi ideology in ways which are not yet clearly understood. Rosenberg’s role in Nazi ideology takes on some new dimensions in this account. He was more influential before and less influential after 1933 than has usually been supposed, and this suggests a need for re-evaluation of his position in the Nazi party. Finally, Chapter VII shows that the architectural control exerted by the Reichskulturkammer was slight indeed and concludes that the regime exerted influence on architectural style primarily through the personal patronage of high Nazi officials. If these observations

could be applied to the whole of Nazi cultural policy, we would , know a great deal more about the workings of Nazi government. In order to describe the common theme of these subjects it has been necessary to neglect many of their implications. Because the poli-

, tical involvement of German architecture was such a complex : phenomenon, conditioned by such diverse political, economic, and intellectual factors, any history of this subject must sometimes play

the part of interlocutor, asking questions rather than answering them.

I / The Revolution in Style

When, toward the end of the Weimar period, Nazi writers and

| speakers attacked what they called the “Bauhaus style” in architecture, they did not attack modern architecture as a whole. Although the “new architecture’ formed part of a much broader modern movement in Germany, the Nazis drew a sharp distinction between it and the rest of this modern movement. The party opposed as ‘architectural bolshevism’’ Walter Gropius’ Bauhaus buildings and the designs which resembled them; it tolerated and - often admired other types of modern design. The Nazis drew this

distinction because the new architecture appeared to have a ,

separate identity within the broader modern movement. It alone was accompanied by an ideological program; it alone, it seemed, was favored by political patronage under the Weimar Republic. Moreover, while the rest of modern architecture appeared to have developed out of the traditions of prewar styles and thus seemed to have firm roots in the past, the new architecture looked strikingly

different. First set before the public in 1922, it appeared to con-

temporaries to be radically new, the product, not of a further development of the older traditions of German culture, but of war, revolution, and economic disaster. Despite the fact that the new architecture looked very different from the rest of postwar modern design in Germany, the two wings

, of the modern movement had a common origin in a vigorous and highly experimental progressive movement which existed before the war, and both drew many of their stylistic features from this prewar work. The new architecture, however, carried the traditions

of prewar architecture further and in a different direction from other postwar styles, so that their common sources were at the time obscured. There were in fact two ‘‘revolutions” in German architectural style — the broader one, which around 1900 gave rise to the

modern movement as a whole, and the narrower one, led by Gropius | , and his followers after 1918. A definition of both is essential to the 11

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proper understanding of contemporary opposition to the ‘‘Bauhaus

style.’ For only to the extent that the new architecture was really

‘new’ after 1918 could it be condemned as the product of the political revolution, and only insofar as it formed a style distinct from the rest of postwar architecture in Germany could it be identified for attack at all.’ During the latter half of the nineteenth century, German building design, like that of the rest of Europe and America, developed into the cluttered, highly decorated eclecticism known in England and the United States as the Victorian style. The pseudo-Gothic town hall built in Munich from 1867 to 1909 (fig. 1), its surfaces crowded

with carved ornament, was typical of the taste of these times, which also expressed itself in the disorderly outlines of residences constructed with a profusion of turrets, gables, and ‘“‘gingerbread’’ moldings. But toward 1900 a number of architects, under the leadership of such men as Alfred Messel, Peter Behrens, and Paul Bonatz, began to reject this type of chaotic design and to search for simpler new forms. They arrived at the most varied and contradictory solutions. Some stripped the ornament off their buildings, while others

The Revolution in Style / 13

invented new types of decoration. Some made use of new building materials like steel and reinforced concrete to achieve new effects — thin walls, great spans, large glass areas — while others worked in heavy masonry. A few rejected all imitation of past styles, although the majority participated actively in a series of historical

revivals. The first architectural revolution produced no single, readily identifiable architectural style; but by 1914 it had established a variety of new traditions, upon which postwar architecture drew. But almost all of these new traditions represented in one way or another a radical transformation of nineteenth century historicism,

rather than a rejection of it. Using the vocabularies of the older styles, chiefly Gothic and baroque, in new, more orderly, and more vigorous combinations, the progressive architects gradually derived from them a set of forms which were at once novel in appearance and visually related to the past. One of the finest examples of the early stages of this transformation was Alfred Messel’s Wertheim store of 1904 (fig. 2), one of the first of the great Berlin department stores. Messel subdued the Gothic detailing which he employed on

the facade into a regular pattern of marching vertical mullions, a

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14 / Architecture and Politics in Germany

vigorous and uncluttered composition wholly unlike the designs of

the seventies and eighties. In this design, Gothic detailing was merely a means, congenial to the structure of the building, toward an orderly formal composition. This cavalier attitude toward historical accuracy allowed Messel to terminate the Gothic mullions in a powerful mansard roof and to lend weight and impressiveness to the entryway with Roman arches.

During the following decade this process of abstraction from historicism was carried further. Typical of much commercial and industrial architecture of this period is Peter Behrens’ administration building for the Mannesmann works in Diisseldorf (fig. 3). Although its rusticated masonry base and rudimentary classical pilasters gave it a traditional air, Behrens’ design achieved a new vigor through its powerful, uncompromising cubic mass. And although

Behrens employed conventional vertical windows, he narrowed them to slits, which, in the oblique view, appeared as continuous horizontal bands, breaking up the facade in a manner prophetic of the ribbon window of later decades. The transformation of historicism into modern design reached its climax in Paul Bonatz’s famous and influential Stuttgart railroad station (figs. 4 and 5), begun in 1913. Bonatz employed the baroque motif of vertical strips of windows separated by ornamental panels, and he stretched a free-standing classical colonnade across the cen-

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The R Juti in Style / 31 transparency and closure with whic Gropius d een experimenting efore the war was also carried Muc urther in the con-

trast between the workshop wing, with its famous all-glass curtain wall, and the relative solid studio wing. But while the Fagus fac’

+ . . . . . . th d t di it t Alth hG Id h V derived his int tj y t f B t d alth h ,

tory and the erkbund exhibition bul Ing were masonry an th f lativ lyheavy heavy i the€flat h it f erefore relatively 1n appearance, flat wnite Surfaces

and wide glass areas O the Bauhaus bul Ings transformed the inividual wings into light-weight volumes, a earing to tloat above 3

e ground, not needing its support. ough Gropius cou ave

e€rlve 1S interest 1n asymmetry Irom DOnatzZ, and a ougn a

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the tradition o estern architecture.

of building; in schools actories, movie theaters, stores, ofice uildings, and above all, housing projects. But not all architectura

..°.7°.°

ropius accompiisne at the baunaus. €e new vocabdulary roun some oi its most creative adaptations in residentia uliaings: g .Nar chneider’s Romer house in Hamburg (figs. 22 and 23) displays a

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