A New York Times feature from earlier this week caught my eye on Friday. The piece describes an idyllic neighborhood that sounds like something out of a movie.
“Named after an adjacent lake, its residents compare it to a fairy-tale village: Little peaked-roof cottages with wood shutters are built into a dense green forest crisscrossed by mossy paths,” writes Sally McGrane. “Whole swaths are carless. Children play in the gardens, while dogs run free on a sloping meadow. In the summer, a short walk in flip-flops and a bathing suit leads to the lake.”
But there’s a darkness that looms over this gorgeous, historic neighborhood — because it’s in Berlin.
McGrane continues:
But life here also means channeling Germany’s brutal past: The neighborhood was built in the lead-up to World War II as an “elite community” for the S.S., or Schutzstaffel — the elite guard of the Nazi Reich, whose responsibilities included carrying out the Holocaust.
The S.S.-Kameradschaftssiedlung (or S.S. Camaraderie Estate), as it was initially known, was one of the few housing developments built by the Nazis in Berlin. During the war, the roughly 600 small apartments, rowhouses, duplexes, and single-family cottages housed S.S. members and their families, according to rank. The settlement was designed to embody the Nazi Blut und Boden (“blood and soil”) ideology, which touted Aryans’ quasi-mystical relationship with their ancestral land. War was in the blueprints: The cellars were designed to double as bomb shelters, and the tree cover was useful for thwarting airstrikes.
Residents occasionally find cooking utensils and other items belonging to the neighborhood’s original inhabitants in their yards, but they also come across the occasional coin embossed with a swastika. It’s a jarring reminder of the lives the people who originally lived in these houses lived.
Recommended: Jewish Organization Dishonors One of the Victims of Wednesday's Antisemitic Shooting
It would be easy to think that the specter could loom over the current residents of the neighborhood. What’s it like living in a home that once belonged to an SS agent? The ending of the SS adds another layer of disturbance to the neighborhood; when the Russians invaded Berlin at the end of World War II, many residents drowned themselves in the lake that borders the neighborhood or hanged themselves in their homes.
Some residents don’t think twice about the original inhabitants, while others believe it’s their responsibility to remember them so that their behavior doesn’t happen again. A historical marker in the neighborhood reads, “The peaceful atmosphere that the settlement, embedded in the landscape, conveys to the unbiased observer today makes it difficult to recall its history.”
This made me wonder about people who live in antebellum homes throughout the South. How often do they think about the plantations where their homes used to be? I bet it’s not much of a worry.
Side note: Meanwhile, leftists in the South often hold rallies and vigils to commemorate horrific acts of racial cruelty. We know what side of the aisle wants to dwell on the past rather than look to a better present and future.
Another thought occurred to me: What would it be like to live in a place where a horrible crime or personal tragedy took place? For example, how would knowing that you live in a house where someone committed suicide loom over your life?
My Townhall colleague Mia Cathell wrote extensively about a gay couple who adopted two boys with special needs and did unspeakable acts with them. The whole revolting story took place just a few miles from my house; I drive by the subdivision every Saturday when I take trash to the dumpster.
After Mia wrote one of her articles, in which she wrote about how the house where all the horrors took place was for sale, she and I had an email conversation about it. We both wondered whether it would make more sense to tear the house down and start over. Then again, buyers may not have known what went on, particularly if the realtors had already taken down the pride-themed décor throughout the house.
How much responsibility do we have for knowing — or caring about — the history of the home we live in? If you lived in a home with significant history, it could be hard to ignore, but it may not matter, even if your house has a controversial past.
You can help us in our calling to report the truth with the conservative perspective you crave and a dash of style by becoming a PJ Media VIP.
Our VIPs are the lifeblood of what we do, and they invest in our mission — plus they receive some great rewards, including exclusive content, podcasts, an ad-free experience, and commenting privileges.
It’s a great time to become a VIP because you can get 60% off your VIP membership when you use the code FIGHT. Come join us!
Join the conversation as a VIP Member