Court-Jester:
the politics of “Jewish Architecture” in Germany
(lecture held at Stanford University, 2003; published in JSS Oct 2005)
There is no Eruv in Germany. The Eruv can be seen as the typical architectonic and urbanistic response to the diasporadic condition. In Germany, representing maybe the diasporaic condition “par excellence”, one would have expected the typology of the Eruv to be recurring. On the contrary though, in Germany, the physical presence of Jewry follows an ideology which is remarkably opposed to that of the eruv, and that can be described as anti-eruv, and maybe anti-diasporadic. Abstracted from its religious context an analysed upon its urban strategy, the eruv stands for a seeding of an urban realm that nevertheless remains accessible to all groups of society and open to all uses. Two of the main urban characteristics of the eruv are the adding of multiple layers of significance to the urban realm and the approach by many small-scale interventions to affect a large area. To illustrate these characteristics, the recently installed Eruv in nort-London needed just the construction of just over 30 metal poles with fishing wire to enclose an area of approximately 6.5 square miles. The M1 Motorway becomes part of that Eruv boundary and for one day in the week represents symbolically the wall of the Jerusalem temple for orthodox Jews. The livelihood of a city-part and the changes in the activities that are played out in the urban realm do not depend on a singular, visible intervention, but upon many small-scale changes, declarations and shifts of signification, that are only noticeable to the informed and do not intervene upon the unacquainted. The strategy can be described as to contain a minimum of “Jewishness” in a maximum of space. My claim is, that the physical presence of the German Jewry follows exactly the opposite strategy, that this represents a model of an “anti-eruv” and that it has very specific political relevance, for the architect, the Jewish communities as well as for the political establishment.
With a danger of simplification, the Talmud in general and the Eruv in specific represent a method for collective memory and the means to construct a collective identity. They were developed as a response to the catastrophe of the destruction of the temple and the Diaspora that followed from there on. The Eruv is a tool to project a vision of that ancient Jerusalem onto the banality of the everyday city and to give a people, who from there on, were spread out all over the world, a sense of unity and identity without sharing a central physical place. If the approach currently followed in contemporary Germany is opposite to that of the Eruv, then the question of collective memory as a result should also be noticeably different. I will come back to that issue later.
When Munich started developing a concept for a new Jewish community center two years ago, it invited many scholars from all over the world to help formulate the program and guidelines for this daunting task. But irrespective of the multiple voices that were heard – among them myself – a general strategy was laid out from the beginning. The Jewish community center was to occupy one of the central places in the city, being one of the few remaining open squares in the city center, very close to the major shopping areas. The community center was to contain a synagogue, a Jewish elementary school, a Jewish school with evening courses for the general public, a multi-purpose hall and connected spaces for community activities, i.e. the actual community center, a Jewish museum, a Jewish restaurant a Jewish café (whatever that might be) and a Jewish bookshop. Just to clarify things: there are no other Jewish bookshops, Jewish schools, synagogues etc. in Munich. Most of the functions within the existing community center, located not as central within the city, are to be replaced by this new center. This general strategy, which basically amounts to concentrating all Jewish presence onto one city square, was developed in a mutual partnership by the head of the Jewish community, Charlotte Knobloch, and the Ministerpräsident (governor) of Bavaria, Edmund Stoiber. A central building, to contain on a minimum of physical space a maximum of “Jewishness.”, the antipode to the diasporadic “ideology” of the eruv. It is a prime example of a concept of “Jewish Architecture” which in this specificity only exists in Germany. This is only one example of how a Jewish presence in Germany is manifested physically, and expressed within the urban fabric. In cities like Cologne, Hamburg as well as in smaller cities like Wuppertal and Mainz, the approach has been very similar.
To speak of a “Jewish” architecture is obviously very problematic, not only as it leaves undefined whether Jewish users, Jewish architects, or buildings with a Jewish theme are referred to. Examples would be the new synagogues and community centers, the architects Daniel Libeskind or Zvi Hecker, or the Museum of the Jewish artist Felix Nußbaum or the Holocaust-Memorial by Peter Eisenman, respectively. With an awareness of the danger of being too general, it seems most suitable for this analysis to chose a defining frame as comprehensive as possible, and then to speak of a contemporary “architecture with Jewish context” instead of a “Jewish” architecture. In Germany many such buildings have been planned and built since the early nineties, as the Jewish communities grew rapidly due to the influx of Jews from the former Sowjet republics. The number of Jews in Germany almost tripled between 1985 and the turn of the century. As a result of this, predominantly community centers and synagogues were built, but also elementary schools, Museums, as well as other buildings with a Jewish context were constructed.
The overwhelming part of this architecture has a specific spatial and formal quality. Very generally speaking, one can discern a tendency towards expressiveness and the refutation – in the widest sense – of generally accepted conventions. As there is only a very limited “natural” affinity of Jewish architects towards this expressiveness, and as many of those buildings have not been built by Jewish architects in any case, the reasons for this quality have to be sought elsewhere and can not be solely found on the side of the planners. Anyhow, an explanation which only references the decision making of the architect or sees the architectural outcome purely as a product of the relationship between the architect and the client is too individualistic and a-political and therefore does not address a main issue. Especially in view of the theme, which is of vital political and social interest to Germany, an additional layer of explanation to the simplistic indication of the architect’s preferences has to be considered. One can only define the specific expression of that architecture with a Jewish context in Germany when it is based on a collective, and thereby political, reading, having a direct influence on the architect’s designs.
What exactly is the specific character of those buildings with a Jewish context in Germany? First of all it can be said that almost throughout “good” architecture has been realized. Irrespective of the location and size, whether looking at the major buildings in the capitol of Berlin or at a small synagogue in a provincial city, whether it is an architecture of classicistic and straight style or of sculptural expression, the spatial and conceptual quality that is reached in those buildings is exceptionally high. In particular their concepts are rich in metaphors, unfold an plentitude of historical and thematic relationships and often have a finely tuned and very well formulated argument on the building’s shape and its “morphogenesis”. In this sense, they are very proper examples of architecture. It has been mentioned very often, that the Jewish Museum in Berlin by Daniel Libeskind, as well as the “Topography of Terror” by Peter Zumthor, which still needs to be built, are among the most interesting and outstanding examples of contemporary architecture worldwide.
Apart of this rather general issue of conceptual and spatial quality, a certain tendency towards the breaking of rules can be observed in those buildings. In various ways those buildings refute the generally accepted forms of planning and construction and obtain an anarchic quality. This “rebelliousness” not only is present in the visible and formal, but includes the institutional and bureaucratic aspects of construction as well. Whereas the process of decision making and the planning stage went beyond any previously known and accepted scale in the case of the “Topography of Terror” and even more so in the case of the “Holocaust Memorial”, the Jewish Museum in Berlin is probably the building where this disrespect of the institutionalized methods of planning have been made most visible. Planned and approved at a time which fell completely under the fierce rule of then head of the planning department, Hans Stimman, with his dystopian vision of a conservative and Teutonic, petrified Berlin, the Jewish Museum is the only building which can escape the historicity and the schematically banal context, especially with this level of consistency and radicalism where other world famous architects like Frank Gehry had failed in opposing and liberating themselves from that stone-clad ideology. The building circumvented even rules that are of sacrosanct value to the pursuers of a historical conventionality and the so-called “critical reconstruction”, like the compliance to the street lines. In addition, the cladding of the façade with zinc does not correspond to the official decree of the stone-clad Berlin. One can distinguish further rule violations by this building as well as by various additional buildings with a Jewish context in Germany, much more compared with other buildings, whether they be museums, churches or community centers. The aim of an architecture that confronts the bureaucratic discipline and breaks with the accepted rules and regulations is to express a critical stance towards the established conventions. Daniel Libeskind writes for example about his Jewish Museum that it confronts the rationality of Berlin, i.e. that same rationality which has led to utter catastrophe, with the power of irrationality. Further on he says, that the so-called “voids”, the empty spaces that cut through the building, are meant to express the unbearable burden, being the consequence of the destruction of the European Jewry. Architecture here is taken as a critical voice towards society and the political system. Conventional patterns of thought and values are to be questioned and essentially reassessed. The buildings are meant to have a disturbing and disquieting power, through the radicalism of their design and their construction. Through means of architecture, a critique of established values of the society is publicly expressed.
For sure, this loss of respect is fought for very hard in the case of each and every of those buildings. Sometimes it has taken years for the buildings to pass all objections of the institutions and until all technical and legal difficulties have been solved and the building is built in the most uncompromising way. Nevertheless, the architect is not the only source of this product. Since those buildings perform a vital political function in Germany, one has to observe and analyse them as well on a political level. As this anarchic quality can be observed on a multitude of buildings from various architects, it indicates that the interest in this disrespect of rules comes from a different side as well.
No other buildings exist in Germany that are inaugurated with greater expenditure and larger ceremonial events, with that amount of public response and media coverage than synagogues and other buildings with Jewish context. Only recently, the new synagogue of Wuppertal, a mid-sized provincial town in central Germany, was inaugurated in the presence of the German president Johannes Rau and his Israeli colleague Katzav. Even large new churches, not even mentioning mosques, are not given this amount of attention. The significance given to this event, which seem almost of fundamental importance to the state, is astounding in view of its provinciality and virtual irrelevance. When the Jewish Museum was inaugurated September 2001 in Berlin, the gala evening of the official celebration was the biggest and most exclusive social event that had ever taken place in Germany. Never before had so many celebrities of politics, economy, culture and media met in one place. It is very telling that the opening of the new German house of parliament was celebrated with much less attention and less verve and enthusiasm, even though it was supposed to mark the start of a new era of Germany after reunification. Contrary it seems that this new chapter was marked by the opening of the Jewish Museum rather than the first debate in the new house of parliament.
The example of the synagogue in Wuppertal shows that the symbolic value of this building reaches far beyond any “functional” value, especially when seen from the non-Jewish part of the population. Irrespective of the fact whether the synagogue is really being actively used or whether it actually forms a functioning center of activity, its existence and the proof of a secured Jewish presence in Germany which is symbolically expressed thereby, is valued extremely high. For those reasons, an expressive building with radical architecture is desirable by the public opinion, as there is no danger of it being ignored. In a strange mutual dependency and joining of interests, the German Jewry steps out of the inner courtyards. The Jews in Germany do not feel any shame anymore to live in the land of the Holocaust and see no need to hide themselves. The German non-Jews wish to express the security and full acceptance that the Jews enjoy in Germany, thereby drawing a line underneath the terrible and very shameful history. For this, they need the Jews and their buildings. A fearful Jewry, that hides itself in the inner courtyards or in ordinary buildings of commonplace nature, would always be an expression of an explicitly “abnormal” situation.
The federal republic of Germany needs the institutionalized experiment in the shape of “wild” buildings and tolerated rule breaks to establish its own foundation and to liberate itself from the “unbearable burden” of the Holocaust. Slavoj Zizek describes in one of his books, with a reference to Lacan, the fool as the leftist intellectual, who “in his hysteric satisfaction believes to steal with trickery from the master a small piece of his (the master’s) ‘jouissance’ (joy / vividness).” But, according to Zizek, this theft never questions the position and power of the ruling master fundamentally. On the contrary, it only strengthens and stabilizes him within the existing order. This exactly, is the role performed by Jewish architecture in Germany today. The architects attempt to create an architecture that rebels against the rule of the established conventions and thereby positioning it as a critical voice within the general public, critically assessing and questioning major aspects of German society. However, this superficially critical stance is tolerated and propagated by the institutions. This architecture in fact, reinforces the established and conservative society, as the supposedly critical stance is not fundamental and as it allows the official Germany to distinguish itself and present itself positively within the international arena. Counting on the naivety and self-indulgence of the architects, those buildings are given a small space to play anarchy in, though where they cannot damage anything essential, but achieve a good effect as a decorative embellishment. Here is the architect as the court’s fool.
These constructed examples of Jewish presence in Germany, with their supposedly critical view, are received gratefully by the conservative voices within the federal republic of Germany. Contrary to criticizing the accepted points of view, this architecture, whether it be the Jewish Museum in Berlin, the Holocaust Memorial or a synagogue in Duisburg, proclaims a solidarity with the conventional and conservative opinions, a closing of ranks, and even strengthens and reinforces this power structure. In spite of all the struggle that is necessary to produce the buildings, often of exquisite architectural quality, they are given an sociopolitical position where the joyful criticism of the existing order acts in fact as its supplement. The architecture, which is supposed to express the equal rights and secured standing of Jews in Germany through those buildings, performs a vital official and state-certified function: It is the litmus-test for the allegedly healthy German-Jewish relationship, for the well-being of the Jews in Germany, with the simple exception that the neutral value “zero” does not exist. It is the fool’s-architecture as an institutionalized experiment resulting from a mutual dependency.
In which way can an architecture of Jewish context in Germany take on a observing distance and function as a critical voice within society? The basic initiative of the archtecture of Libeskind, Zumthor or Hecker as examples, does not include an endorsement of the German state, but, on the contrary is rather characterized by doubt. Those doubts are important when the architecture is to play a vital and active part within society. Why then, is this kind of architecture so enthusiastically supported and embraced by the political establishment and immediately integrated into the system? It is the attempt to annul the critical power architecture within society, to integrate it into the established discourse and to normalize it. The force of the Jewish Museum in Berlin is immediately dissolved when the biggest party Germany has ever seen takes place for at the opening, with all leading figures of the conservative political parties present. Can this expressive architecture be so easily embraced for the very conformist uses, precisely because of its “anarchic” quality, because it carries with it explicit signs of rebellion? Is it maybe exactly the postmodern nature of these buildings, with their multiple readings and open systems of significations and meaning which allow them to be taken on board by the existing political environment as a supporting partner? Maybe it is the naïve “new conservatism” which becomes evident in the postmodern architecture. The author has to address those same questions to himself in view of the Jewish community center which still awaits completion and is characterized by a similar expressiveness and forceful formal quality (see Studio June 2000). What would be the case, if instead of the dramatic synagogues and very visible as well as publicly effective Jewish buildings, an ordinary and everyday presence of Jewish bookshops or grocery stores would be developed. What would be the case, if a strategy of the Eruv would be attempted in Germany today and what could this approach look like. If instead of the dramatic synagogues and very visible as well as publicly effective Jewish buildings, a decentralized and an ordinary and everyday presence of Jewish bookshops or grocery stores would be developed. Would this mundane and unspectacular presence of Jews in Germany still perform the function of expressing a politically useful “normality”? Probably not. Thus the “honest normality” – even though obviously and kind of propagated normality is full of ideology – would probably have something much more disconcerting and distressing to the German establishment than any kind of simulated normality by architectural drama. Jewish bakeries do not lend themselves to a symbolic and publicly effective usage and are therefore resistant towards the embrace by the political establishment and conservative state interest. In this resistance lies a much more fundamental critique than in any kind of most radical, expressive and rule breaking architecture. After the fools, the time has come for the mundane.
M Herz ©