An brook so low you barely got your ankles wet divided a settlement for in excess of four decades worth of time. Due to a quirk of geography, the fifty inhabitants of Mödlareuth, a hamlet bordered by evergreen groves, pastures and spectacular views, found themselves at the heart of the Cold War tensions. They had the unfortunate circumstance to span the Bavarian region, in the Federal Republic of Germany, and Thuringia in the East, a border that was demarcated first by a barrier and then by a wall. American soldiers dubbed it Mini Berlin.
A few months after their own barrier was opened, and even before their state had unified again in 1990, a collection of residents set about memorialising their history. The work is close to reach completion: on 9 November, the 36th commemoration of the collapse of the German barrier, the Deutsch-Deutsches Museum Mödlareuth will begin operations. It was formally opened by the head of state, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in the beginning of October, but the display was not completely ready. Addressing the residents who endured the past era, Steinmeier remarked: “You were bystanders of an cruel division, which tore households asunder and turned neighbors into foreigners.”
“You were bystanders of an inhuman split, which pulled households asunder and turned neighbors into aliens.”
Even at its founding in 1810, the community straddled the Kingdom of Bavaria and the Princely State of Reuss, a royal family most renowned for giving all its male members the designation Heinrich and labeling them sequentially by birth. As Steinmeier informed the gathering, the oddity was never an obstacle in the way of the locals socializing in the very same tavern, visiting the very same religious building and sending their kids to the identical educational institution.
Then came the global conflict. Immediately after they came, the Soviet forces put up wood stakes by the stream. For a twelve months they seized the whole hamlet, creating their control center in a dwelling on the Bavarian side, adorning it with a portrait of Stalin and a red star. The American soldiers urged them to withdraw across the stream. For a time, villagers could still jump across, though as restrictions increased they were required to show identification, even though each person knew who they were, and to go back at evening.
Subsequently, in 1952, came barbed wire and the legal sealing of the boundary. In 1966, as in Berlin half a decade before, a concrete structure was erected, with landmines, anti-tank obstacles and watchtowers. The locals could still view each other by scaling elevations, but on the Soviet side waving and shouting were prohibited. A female resident was added to a GDR intelligence surveillance list for answering “back at you” to a West German local who greeted her “happy new year”.
I was told narratives including these tales by Robert Lebegern, the museum’s director, who has spent a large part of his working life building it. Locals were consulted in the initial phases about how what length of structure they desired to keep. They selected a portion on the Bavarian perimeter, near where a local resident managed to get away in the darkest hours with a climbing device, subsequently the frontier was heavily strengthened.
2 guard towers are maintained together with a series of exhibits illustrating the most significant moments in the community’s history. As we stroll, the director lists the regulations: no one could get closer than 5km of the border. Agricultural workers needed special permission to look after their produce; the spouse could operate the agricultural equipment but never both, lest they tried to flee. Military personnel were on duty.
The frontier between West Germany and the East Germany extended 1,400 kilometers, from the Baltic Sea in the northern part to this location in the south. Berlin is remembered and memorialised the greatest, but in excess of two times more persons (exceeding 300) lost their lives trying to pass over it in countryside regions than in the urban center. the director tells me that 95 percent of escape attempts did not succeed.
Most of Mödlareuth’s locals were farmers or skilled workers, who adjusted to dwelling in the grey zone between two political systems by staying low-profile and looking after their land. They neither supported the socialist government nor fought it, Robert Lebegern explains.
For sightseers, however, the hamlet became a sort of site of interest. Approximately 15k came to see each year, optical devices in hand, to stare – and then rapidly leave. In 1983, the American president, George Bush, was guided by the national security head.
25 years after merger, the television series, a TV series about a made-up hamlet like Mödlareuth, resulted in renewed attention.
The opening of the recently established museum – with a cafe, shop, movie theater and large car park – is likely to
Maya is a certified interior designer with over 10 years of experience specializing in sustainable home renovations and modern aesthetics.