Unlike the other days of this trip, the weather had turned and became cold, grey and cloudy. Loading the bus in the morning to tour Nazi Rally Grounds was not the most exciting thing in the world since I have very mixed feelings about the existence of such historic sites existing and being used.
I put on my jacket and prepared to see, for the first time, an area that had been built for the sole purpose of strengthening and inspiring the very people who held destructive beliefs that very much contrast with my own.
Learning about the dark sides of history has always put me into a philosophical headspace and I ask myself: how can people feel so passionately about hate, what in the past had driven their actions, and how can I be a part of a solution to stop the destructive cycle of hate?
Going to the rally grounds was especially somber and surreal. Standing in the exact spot where Hitler was being worshiped and lifted onto his pedestal allowed me to truly grasp the scale of the Nazi party and how toxic mob mentality and a political echo-chamber can be. Although I can never imagine what mindspace one has to be in to commit the atrocities that took place, I can imagine how it could be easy to just go with the masses and how easy it could be to forget the weight of another person’s life if you are taught from birth that others are lesser.
After viewing the Nazi grounds, I used the bus ride to decompress and appreciate the rural landscape. I found myself thinking a lot about what the rural Germans must be like and comparing it to the figure that we have been presented with that the AFD was likely going to win an election in a rural area. Since these people do not have easy access to the city-center, they must rely heavily on news media to stay in the loop which is dangerous and divisive.
The rain started falling as we approached München, and the excitement that I had felt in previous days had disappeared. We had some time to settle into our new space, which was a nice break, and we met for the start of a walking tour of the city.
I felt an overwhelming sense of awe upon first seeing the Gothic-style architecture that made me feel like I was finally in a “true” European country. Since I have never been to this continent previously, I was very excited to absorb the differences in the overall feel of the city. I also foolishly decided that a light raincoat would protect me from the rainfall that was beginning to turn into a full blown rain shower. Nonetheless, I decided to enjoy the tour of the city and make the most of the experience, despite being really cold and tired from the travel and weight of the subject matter of the past few days.
Eventually, the rain slowed down and I was able to fully listen to the tour guide who focused on Jewish life in München, the city where Hitler rose to fame and power. We got onto the topic of a racist name of an Apotheke, and the tour guide seemed to bask in a sense of blissful ignorance. This moment really stuck out to me because I had been proud of Germany for trying its best to make reparations after committing such unforgivable acts, but now I was suddenly doubting this ‘progressiveness’ that I had heard so much about and began to see the country from another angle: one that, as a whole, still believes in white supremacy, despite many global arguments about it and their own destructive past.
After drying off a bit and having some time to reflect on what I had seen this day and the rest of the trip, I came to the conclusion that everyone is selfish and hypocritical when it comes to acceptance. Everyone wants to fit in and be loved and accepted, yet there are all kinds of standards one must live up to in order to fit in, or assimilate, into a certain group. An example could be the rabbi who wants their congregation to be accepted in the community without question but does not accept intermarriage, or a German who wants Germany to deny refugees but wants to be accepted in society as themself with their own, unique set of skills and faults. However it is, everyone wants to be part of something and I think there is some sort of cognitive disconnect that prevents us all from getting along and being able to coexist.
Mollie Serbin lives in Pittsburgh, PA.