An brook so narrow you hardly got your feet wet divided a community for over four decades of time. By an accident of topography, the fifty inhabitants of Mödlareuth, a tiny settlement encircled by pine forests, fields and stunning vistas, found themselves at the core of the cold war. They had the unfortunate circumstance to cross the Bavarian region, in West Germany, and Thuringia in the Eastern part, a boundary that was established first by a enclosure and then by a partition. American soldiers called it Small Berlin.
Months after their own barrier was breached, and even before their state had reunified in 1990, a group of local people started memorialising their heritage. The effort is soon to reach completion: on 9 November, the 36th remembrance of the collapse of the Wall in Berlin, the Museum of German Division Mödlareuth will begin operations. It was officially launched by the federal president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in early October, but the show was not completely ready. Addressing the residents who experienced the past era, Steinmeier said: “You were witnesses of an brutal split, which pulled households asunder and turned local residents into strangers.”
“You were observers of an cruel split, which tore relatives into pieces and turned neighbors into aliens.”
Starting at its creation in 1810, the village spanned the Royal Bavaria and the Principality of Reuss, a noble lineage most famous for bestowing all its male descendants the designation Heinrich and labeling them in order by birth. As Steinmeier informed the gathering, the quirk was never an obstacle in the way of the inhabitants socializing in the identical inn, going to the same church and enrolling their young ones to the same learning center.
Then came the World War II. The moment they arrived, the Soviet forces erected wood stakes by the brook. For a annual period they occupied the entire village, setting up their headquarters in a building on the Bavarian side, adorning it with a portrait of Stalin and a Soviet emblem. The US forces persuaded them to withdraw to the other side of the brook. For a period, villagers could still jump across, though as restrictions increased they were obliged to display identification, even though everyone knew who they were, and to return at evening.
Then, in 1952, came metal barriers and the official sealing of the border. In 1966, as in Berlin half a decade before, a wall was built, with mines, anti-tank obstacles and watchtowers. The residents could continue to view each other by scaling hills, but on the eastern side gesturing and yelling were prohibited. A local woman was placed on a East German secret police surveillance list for replying “likewise” to a western villager who said her “happy new year”.
I heard stories like these by Robert Lebegern, the head of the institution, who has spent a large part of his professional career developing it. Residents were asked in the initial phases about how what length of wall they wished to maintain. They opted for a stretch on the western fringe, near where a villager was able to escape in the middle of the night with a scaling tool, subsequently the frontier was significantly reinforced.
Two observation towers are preserved together with a collection of exhibits showing the most impactful moments in the hamlet’s chronicle. As we stroll, Lebergen lists the regulations: no one could approach 5km of the frontier. Rural residents needed specific authorization to look after their produce; the husband or wife could operate the agricultural equipment but under no circumstances both, lest they attempted to flee. Military personnel kept guard.
The frontier between the Federal Republic and the East Germany ran nearly 900 miles, from the northern sea in the northern part to here in the south. Berlin is recalled and memorialised the greatest, but in excess of double the number individuals (well over 300) were killed attempting to traverse it in provincial zones than in the metropolis. Robert Lebegern informs me that 95% of escape attempts did not succeed.
The majority of Mödlareuth’s residents were rural laborers or skilled workers, who adjusted to residing in the ambiguous area between 2 ideological spheres by staying low-profile and looking after their farms. They neither endorsed the East German authorities nor opposed it, Lebegern clarifies.
For tourists, however, the village became a sort of site of interest. About 15k came to see each year, viewing tools in possession, to stare – and then rapidly depart. In 1983, the US president, George Bush, was given a tour by the German defence minister.
25 years after reunification, the TV show, a television program about a imaginary hamlet similar to Mödlareuth, led to renewed interest.
The inauguration of the recently established museum – with a cafe, boutique, movie theater and large parking lot – is likely to
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