Honours Review 15, part 1

Issue 15

2023

Issue 15

NEW START

2023

FOREWORD Everywhere around you, the world is in crisis. Our generation only recently escaped the COVID-19 pandemic, but our suffrage doesn't end there. With the ongoing war in Ukraine, the disastrous impact of large companies on the environment, massive inflation that drains our savings and continuing infringements upon human, women's and minorities' rights, our generation is the first that has become so deeply aware of the painful truths in our societies. We all dream of a clean slate: a way to erase all crises and errors and to simply start over in a way that allows everyone to fruition: this is what NEW START has meant to me--and the artists and writers in this volume as well. This year the Honours Review celebrated its tenth birthday and publishing its fifteenth volume. This called for the largest and most diverse edition that the Honours Review had ever seen--and with great success! This brand new issue will certainly spark your interest. From sexual wellbeing to environmental policy; from linguistics to psychiatry; and from academic essays to fine arts and poetry. May you prosper in your personal NEW START as well!

On behalf of the editorial board, Wally van der Laan

TABLE OF C The Effect of Modern Gender Biases on the Study of Prehistoric Hunter-Gatherer Societies

The Effect of the Chemical Imbalance Myth on Psychiatric Clients

"In the beginning, Time woke up from its endless slumber..." - On Big History and the need to romanticise our scientific grand narratives

A New Day

Facing History: German Reunification and the Renovation of the Reichstag Language and Emotion

CONTENTS The Sexual Wellness Education Initiative: The Missing Piece in the Puzzle of Student Wellbeing

Reforming Environmental Policymaking in International Climate Negotiations: Perspectives from the Margins and Outside the Box

Photographs of Psyche

Embroidery by Radart

Feral Children and Human Development

Nature and Nurture in Addiction and Recovery

THE EFFECT OF MODERN GENDER BIASES ON THE STUDY OF PREHISTORIC HUNTER-GATHERER SOCIETIES Written by: Shirley Low Illustrated by: Elvy Leonida

New discoveries regarding prehistoric hunter-gatherers have uprooted the default view among anthropologists that men hunted, and women raised the children (Wei-Haas, 2020). Burial sites and other archaeological evidence provide anthropologists with the bulk of their knowledge; given the difficulties in other means of gaining information about prehistoric civilizations. While archaeological evidence is invaluable, it tends to lack context that enables greater insight into hunter-gatherer culture. A common source of information to supplement this is the study of modern hunter-gatherer societies (Cummings et al, 2014). However, reliance on these sources can cause problems for the accurate study of prehistoric civilisations firstly because it presumes that huntergatherer gender roles were the same then as they are now.

Secondly, these studies may give support to the idea of a

biological predisposition to gendered roles within society. This raises the question: are the genderroles of today being impressed onto prehistoric societies, which in turn support the idea of gendered positions in today’s society?

To further develop the claim that modern hunter-gatherer societies are used as sources of information for anthropologists, this essay will discuss the Hadza and Kaguru tribes of Northern Tanzania. These are two of the few remaining hunter-gatherer societies in the world. As hunter-gatherers depend on a continuous supply of animals to hunt, and berries and other vegetation to gather, they need plentiful space to survive, roughly between 7 and 500 square miles (Redd, 1998). As the population of the earth has dramatically grown in the last five centuries, it has become increasingly hard to survive as a nomadic tribe. The focus of this section will be the gender-roles in the Hadza and Kaguru tribes, both of whom still have a nomadic lifestyle.

In the Hadza the general rule is that “women gather, and men hunt,” (Redd, 1998) with hunting tools and the job of hunting game being solely associated with men.

Alongside the role of gathering, women in both the Hadza and Kaguru tribes are responsible for child rearing, and it is noted that the children often engage in gathering with the women from a young age.

Regarding the application of information about modern huntergatherer tribes, anthropologist Pamela Geller argues that modern conceptions of gender roles are often used when making historical assumptions, especially regarding people about whom information is sparse (Wei-Haas, 2020). She argues that experience and information of modern hunter-gatherer tribes is impressed onto prehistoric huntergatherer tribes. She furthers this line of reasoning by discussing how the assumption that there is a biological predisposition towards specific activities and roles can be dangerous if it is used to justify gender disparity. Geller describes this as “dangerous, and completely unsubstantiated”, (Wei-Haas, 2020) which draws attention to the issue of the impact of inaccurate data on the conclusions about prehistoric civilizations. Given the evidence from the Hadza and Kaguru tribes – that women are responsible for raising the children and gathering, while the men hunt – it could be logical to assume that prehistoric people had a similar social structure.

It is argued that this genderstructure makes biological sense, as men are naturally stronger, larger, faster; while on the other hand, women are naturally more nurturing, spending nine months pregnant and between one- and two-years breastfeeding. However, new research questions if this was in fact the case for prehistoric people. A 9,000-year-old grave in Andean Peru was recently excavated and a kit of stone tools necessary for taking down big game was found inside. The researcher responsible, Randall Haas, assumed that since the grave goods were those of a hunter, that the human remains were those of a biological male. However, analysis of a protein that forms tooth enamel revealed that the hunter was biologically female (Wei-Haas, 2020). While this evidence is not entirely conclusive, as burial goods such as hunting tools may have been placed for symbolic or religious reasons, it is a good indication that hunting was not dominated by men, as had been thought.

This discovery prompted a reanalysis of other burial sites in the Americas. A total of 429 burial sites were re-examined: 27 had an identifiable sex with 11 females and 16 males. This data has altered anthropologists’ understanding of prehistoric hunter-gatherer societies. It has also prompted a reanalysis of the reasons why the conclusion that the hunters were predominantly male had been

drawn in the first place. More attention is now being paid to how experts may hold potentially prejudiced opinions, and how those who wish to enforce gender roles today look to the past for evidence of the ‘two’ genders being predisposed to different activities.

The hypothesis that prehistoric hunter-gatherers did not have the rigid gender-roles that exist today is also supported by anthropologist Mark Dyble, discussed by Hannah Devlin in her article on prehistoric equality (Devlin, 2015). Dyble maintains that sexual inequality emerged when societies began to move from a hunter-gatherer society to an agricultural society.

This is supported by a study, (Dyble et al, 2015) which investigated the apparent paradox that while hunter-gatherers strongly preferred to live with family members, in practice their communities comprised of very few closely related individuals. This study showed, through simulations of choice about which individuals’ people would want to live with, that when men and women have equal influence over the choice, the average number of related individuals is much lower. The explanation of this is that it would be beneficial to have people you trusted living in other tribes, as this would increase the number of people you could trade and cooperate with. With this in mind, if one was able to trust all adult members of their families, men, and

women, then their chances of success in various aspects of life would be improved. Therefore, it would be counterproductive to have an unequal society in which the trust and influence of men were favoured over that of women. The simulation corresponded to the actual data of the hunter-gatherer societies studied. This supports the argument that prehistoric huntergatherer societies may have been more sexually equal than was otherwise thought.

However, both conclusions may be wrong. While the 9,000-year-old hunter was biologically female, and not male as had been assumed, this does not mean that they ‘identified’ or were identified as a woman.

There is simply not enough information about the culture of prehistoric civilisations to draw decisive conclusions about the gender roles that existed. Biological sex does not necessarily equate to gender, and gender is not necessarily binary. Therefore, while complete conclusions may not be able to be drawn from this data, it is clear that the gender-structures of today did not exist in the same way in prehistoric hunter-gatherer societies. To conclude, due to a lack of information about the gendered aspects of cultures of prehistoric civilisations, experts often turn to modern examples of similar civilisations for their data. While this can be helpful, it can lead to incorrect and biased conclusions, .

such as those made about the gender-roles in prehistoric tribes.

Such assumptions have been challenged by the recent discovery of a burial site in Peru which prompted experts to re-examine previous findings. This led to a reconsideration of the gender biases that have been projected onto prehistoric civilisations, leading to further thought on how they can be harmful if not addressed.

References Brown, T. (2019). Hunter-Gatherer Culture | National Geographic Society.

Cummings, V, Peter J, and Marek Z. (2014). The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology and Anthropology of Hunter-Gatherers. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Dyble, M., G. D. Salali, N. Chaudhary, A. Page, D. Smith, J. Thompson, L. Vinicius, R. Mace, and A. B. Migliano. (2015) “Sex Equality Can Explain the Unique Social Structure of Hunter-Gatherer Bands.”

Science 348, no. 6236 (2015): 796–798.

Devlin, H. (2018). Early Men and Women Were Equal, Say Scientists. The Guardian.

Redd, D. A. (1998). The Hadza and Kaguru of Tanzania: Gender Roles and Privileges at Two Subsistence Levels. University of Southern Mississippi Department of Sociology and Anthropology.

Wei-Haas, M. (2021). Prehistoric Female Hunter Discovery Upends Gender Role Assumptions.

Science.

THE EFFECT OF THE CHEMICAL IMBALANCE MYTH ON PSYCHIATRIC CLIENTS Written by: Anna Waldeck Illustrated by: Kim Naber

Where does extreme happiness come from? Where does extreme sadness come from? Many people who struggle with mental health issues have certain ideas about the origin of their disorder. These explanations, especially if they come from professionals, can have significant impacts on the effectiveness of treatment. In other words, the way professionals frame psychological health in interactions with clients has major treatment repercussions. In this article, it will be argued that the endorsement of a chemical imbalance explanation by professionals can negatively affect a client’s thinking about their prognosis and treatment. According to this explanation, mental disorders stem from imbalances of chemicals within the brain, thus seeing mental health as a biological issue.

The link between causal beliefs and treatment outcomes is illustrated in research done by Kemp et. al. They indicated that compared to a more holistic “biopsychosocial” explanation of mental illness, the solely biological explanation of “having a chemical imbalance” led to: decreased personal responsibility for depression; a worse expected prognosis; and the view that talking-therapy treatments are ineffective. This view is reflected in the statement by 1980s mental health activist Patty Duke saying:

"No amount of therapy will take care of a chemical imbalance in the brain."

The most well-known biochemical explanation for depression is the “chemical imbalance explanation”, which attributes the cause of depression to an imbalance in neurotransmitters8. Another description of this belief is that depression is primarily caused by imbalanced levels of serotonin and norepinephrine that can only be rectified through psychopharmacology1. Chemical imbalance as a cause of depression originated in the late 1960s. Its presence as an explanation of psychological problems, however, only increased with the increase in Direct-to-Consumer advertising in the 1990s that used the chemical imbalance description as a way to promote antidepressants. The cornerstone of these campaigns by pharmaceutical companies was the promotion of the belief that mental disorders like depression are caused by a “chemical imbalance '' in the brain which can be “corrected '' with (specifically) SSRI medications. SSRI medications are a type of antidepressant treatment that work on serotonin in the brain.

Although psychosocial explanations are the most widely supported causal explanations of depression, the use of biochemical beliefs especially the chemical imbalance explanation – have increased in recent years. Surveys done in the USA by France et al. have indicated that 80% of household respondents believed that the cause of depression is a “chemical

imbalance”. These surveys also recorded undergraduate student responses that indicated that 86% believed that depression is likely caused by a chemical imbalance.

Scientific studies indicate that the chemical imbalance explanation is a narrow and false explanation of a disorder, such as depression, which in truth has a complex set of causes.

Moreover, this chemical imbalance “myth” is detrimental in that it gives rise to genetic essentialism. Genetic essentialism which trigger certain cognitive biases in clients that interfere with successful treatment and well-being.

One of these cognitive biases includes the idea that the cause of the disease (e.g. depression) is unchangeable or permanent. This bias leads to prognostic pessimism and increased self-stigma in clients8. In summary, strictly biological explanations, such as the chemical imbalance myth, have become much more prevalent in recent years.

This prevalence is problematic seeing as the narrow explanation leads to unintentional negative impacts on treatment. Therefore models that explain mental illness from the chemical imbalance viewpoint, should be reevaluated.

The chemical imbalance myth influences clients' views on which treatments should be taken for their problems. This fact is used to promote antidepressants that “correct” chemical imbalances in the brain. A study by Acker &

Warner surveyed social workers to gauge the causal explanations they use when interacting with clients.

The majority of the social workers surveyed, indicated that they used the chemical imbalance myth in their discussions with clients. Their study1 continues to mention that “The American Psychiatric Association currently recommends both pharmacotherapy and psychotherapy as first-line interventions for depression (2010).” (p. 237). This indicates that the most optimal treatment plan for depression is a combination of pharmacotherapy and psychotherapy. Kemp et al. indicates that explaining a chemical imbalance causal belief to clients, resulted in the view that pharmacotherapy was more valid and more effective than psychotherapy.

“Psychotherapy is perceived as less likely to be effective when participants believe a chemical imbalance is to blame for their depressive symptoms.” A survey done by Samouilhan & Seabi found that the participants who believed in the chemical imbalance myth were more likely to endorse medication as treatment. Moreover, participants in a study by Salem et al. who were given a holistic “biopsychosocial” explanation for depression were more likely to accept talking-therapy treatment than those given the chemical

myth. This research also showed that participants who were recommended psychotherapy as treatment indicated a greater willingness to accept treatment than participants who were recommended antidepressants as treatment. Once again it is emphasised that clients prefer psychosocial treatments over pharmacological treatments for mental illnesses. Therefore the combination of biopsychosocial explanations and the recommendation of psychotherapy as treatment had a protective effect, allowing this group of participants to be more accepting of treatment.

The consequences of the clients favouring biological treatments over psychosocial treatments are negative according to the majority of literature. As the chemical imbalance myth lowers the credibility and expected effectiveness of psychotherapy in relation to medication, clients who have this chemical imbalance belief may be more likely to seek pharmacotherapy than psychotherapy as treatment. This bias caused by the chemical imbalance myth is therefore detrimental to effective treatment.

Deacon & Baird found that pharmacological treatments were very likely to be effective in the context of the chemical imbalance myth, while talking-therapy treatments were seen as highly

effective when the illness is explained as having a biopsychosocial cause. They also indicated that congruent beliefs and treatments do not automatically make for better treatment success. It was found that solely biological causal explanations and then strictly biological treatments still had detrimental effects. The study by Schroder et al. found that the chemical imbalance myth predicted more unfavourable treatment-relevant processes. For depressed participants, chemical imbalance beliefs were associated with pessimistic treatment expectations and lower perceived credibility of treatment. Schroder et al. also uncovered evidence that the chemical imbalance belief predicted more depressive symptoms after the participants went through a brief treatment programme. Their findings suggested that clients who believed the chemical imbalance myth, at admission to the treatment programme, predicted more depressive symptoms throughout the duration of the programme.

“These results suggest that individuals who endorse the chemical imbalance belief expected (before treatment started) and experienced (at the end of the program) less benefit from the treatment program.” The chemical imbalance belief influences the level of optimism or pessimism with which clients view their illness.

Prognostic pessimism is defined by

Kemp et al. as the belief that an illness is unlikely to be resolved by remedial action. Strong associations have been found between prognostic expectancies (which are important factors in the placebo effect and improvement through depression treatments) and actual prognosis. This association, therefore, highlights the need for high levels of prognostic optimism in clients, if treatment is to be effective. Deacon & Baird explained that in studies comparing the influence of biological and psychological explanations on prognosis

expectancies with regard to mental illness, biological origins led to mental health problems being rated as “less curable, less likely to respond to treatment, more likely to require intensive and long-term professional help, and more likely to persist over time.” . The results of the Kemp et al. experiment which indicates that participants who believed the chemical imbalance myth had higher levels of prognostic pessimism are congruent with the results of the Deacon & Baird study.

However, their studies also indicated other negative effects outside of prognostic pessimism that is caused

by the chemical imbalance belief.

Causal beliefs influence clients’ mood regulation expectancies.

Mood regulation refers to one’s control of your own emotions. The expectation of mood regulation is when you believe that you can control your own mood regulation.

Therefore, a worsening in the expectancies of your mood regulation, is when you no longer believe that you can control your own moods. Another description of this is: the expectation that there will be a reduction in the self-efficacy of controlling one’s

moods.

Worse mood regulation expectancies lead to worse coping behaviour and that in turn negatively influences a client’s mood. The outcome, for example, of a client’s depression treatment would then also be directly affected.

Specifically, the causal chemical imbalance myth reduces depressed clients’ perceived capacity to regulate their own negative moods.

Belief in a deterministic chemical imbalance may lead a depressed client to believe that their symptoms are not under their control. This once again links to Patty Duke’s saying, “No amount of therapy will take care of a chemical

imbalance of the brain.'' She indicates that her symptoms are not under her control, but influenced by the chemical imbalance.

The link between causal beliefs and public or even self-stigma has been established by multiple studies.

Deacon & Baird has described public stigma as “a complex concept that encompasses the reactions of the general public toward a stigmatised group.” The chemical imbalance explanation has been used in many anti-stigma campaigns (including the campaigns of Patty Duke). However, research questions the effects of the chemical imbalance explanation on reducing mental health stigma.

Schroder et al. mention that public stigma does not improve with biological explanations and the survey by Speerforck et al. adds to the literature indicating that biogenetic beliefs (such as the chemical imbalance myth) do not help in overcoming the stigma or discrimination that mental disorders are harmful. Research further indicates that there is a negative influence of biochemical causal beliefs on public mental health stigma. Firstly the survey of college students by Deacon & Baird (in relation to the chemical imbalance myth) has indicated that “endorsement of a biological explanation is associated with more negative attitudes towards individuals with mental disorders (e.g., that they are more unpredictable, antisocial, and l

dangerous) than psychological explanations.” Secondly, the research by Speerforck et al. found that beliefs in a “chemical imbalance of the brain” and “brain disease” predicted a heightened need for a social distance towards psychological clients. This study also indicated that “Both ‘chemical imbalance of the brain’ and ‘brain disease’ showed pronounced positive correlations with stigmatising attitudes.” Thus far we have seen that the chemical imbalance myth has led to: 1) limiting clients’ treatment options; 2) increases in prognostic pessimism; 3) worsening of depressed mood regulation expectancies; and 4) and increased public stigma regarding psychiatric clients. These conclusions indicate that there seems to be no positive effects of the chemical imbalance myth. In conclusion, belief in the chemical imbalance myth might negatively impact psychological clients. Current peer-reviewed research concludes that belief in the chemical imbalance myth triggers multiple negative beliefs which worsen the course of depression and decreases a patient’s response to (specifically) psychotherapeutic treatment. A belief in the chemical imbalance myth led clients to view medication as more credible and effective than psychotherapy. The chemical imbalance myth also increased prognostic pessimism in depressed clients, worsened negative mood regulation

expectancies, and did not reduce public or self-stigma. It is therefore suggested that the chemical imbalance myth should not be propagated by mental health professionals, but rather debunked.

It is critical that public policy, clinicians, scientists and anti-stigma advocates promote balanced explanations, such as the biopsychosocial model of disorders.

These holistic explanations would lead to improved treatment expectancies which would in turn lead to more treatment success with clients. Acknowledging the contributions of multiple factors to the development of mental disorders such as depression would avoid the harmful effects that explanations such as the chemical imbalance myth have on clients.

Promoting such balanced explanations can lead mental health workers and laypeople to begin to attend to the true reasons behind mental disorders and thus help clients recover.

References Acker, J. K., & Warner, L. A. (2020). Let’s talk about depression: Social workers’ use of chemical imbalance explanations.

Social Work in Mental Health.

Deacon, B. J., & Baird, G. L. (2009). The chemical imbalance explanation of depression: Reducing blame at what cost? Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology, 28(4), 415–435.

Duke, P., & Hochman, G. (1993). A brilliant madness: Living with manicdepressive illness. Bantam Books.

France, C. M., Lysaker, P. H., & Robinson, R. P. (2007). The “chemical imbalance” explanation for depression: Origins, lay endorsement, and clinical implications. Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 38(4), 411–420.

Kemp, J. J., Lickel, J. J., & Deacon, B. J. (2014). Effects of a chemical imbalance causal explanation on individuals’ perceptions of their depressive symptoms. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 56, 47–52.

Kuppin, S., & Carpiano, R. M. (2008).

Public conceptions of serious mental illness and substance abuse, their causes and treatments: Findings from the 1996 General Social Survey.

American Journal of Public Health, 98((Suppl 1), S120–S125.

Salem, T., Winer, E. S., Jordan, D. G., & Dorr, M. M. (2019). Doubting the diagnosis but seeking a talking cure: An experimental investigation of causal explanations for depression and willingness to accept treatment.

Cognitive Therapy and Research, 43(6), 971–985.

Samouilhan, T., & Seabi, J. (2010).

University students’ beliefs about the causes and treatments of mental illness.

South African Journal of Psychology, 40(1), 74–89.

Schroder, H. S., Duda, J. M., Christensen, K., Beard, C., & Björgvinsson, T. (2020).

Stressors and chemical imbalances: Beliefs about the causes of depression in an acute psychiatric treatment sample.

Journal of Affective Disorders, 276, 537– 545.

Speerforck, S., Schomerus, G., Pruess, S., & Angermeyer, M. C. (2014). Different biogenetic causal explanations and attitudes towards persons with major depression, schizophrenia and alcohol dependence: Is the concept of a chemical imbalance beneficial? Journal of Affective Disorders, 168, 224–228.

"IN THE BEGINNING, TIME WOKE UP FROM ITS ENDLESS SLUMBER..."

ON BIG HISTORY AND THE NEED TO ROMANTICISE OUR SCIENTIFIC GRAND NARRATIVES Written by: Twan Tromp Illustrated by: Elvy Leonida

In Nietzsche’s parable of the Madman, the Madman is frantically running through the marketplace in search of God, but to no success.

“I’m looking for God” he says, but the people laugh. Some even sarcastically ask him whether God is hiding or has perhaps emigrated. The In Nietzsche’s parable of the Madman, the Madman is frantically running through the marketplace in search of God, but to no success. “I’m looking for God” he says, but the people laugh.

Some even sarcastically ask him whether God is hiding or has perhaps emigrated. The Madman, now desperately crying, asks “where is God?” and finally answers his own question: “'I'll tell you! We have killed him you and I! We are all his murderers.

But how did we do this? How were we able to drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What were we doing when we unchained this earth from its sun? Where is it moving to now? Where are we

moving to? Away from all suns? Are we not continually falling? Are we not continually falling? And backwards, sidewards, forwards, in all directions? Is there still an up and a down? Aren't we straying as though through an infinite nothing?” (Nietzsche, 1882, The Gay Science) This beautiful short parable presents Nietzsche’s conclusion about the state of Western society in his time. Nietzsche here notes “the sociological fact, that Western culture has ceased to be a religious culture” (Young, J. 2003, p. 3). For so long, we had been in the comforting position of certainty. We had the Christian grand narrative to help us, and crucially, to orient us. We didn’t need to worry about “the question of the meaning of life, because it was a non-issue, because the answer was obvious, self-evident, the topic completely sewn up by Christianity’s version of Platonism” (Young, J. 2003, p.21). Yet, now, through Enlightenment and the

“rise” of science, the religious grand narratives have lost their position.

Evolution showed us we have evolved through a long and gruesome process and Galileo showed us that Earth is not at the centre of the cosmos. Science in this sense undermined the metaphysical claims about the nature of reality that was represented by the traditional grand narrative. Galileo and fellow scientists “unchained the earth from its sun”. This worried Nietzsche, and many a thinker since.

What to do now that we have killed God? What is to become of us now that we destroyed our compass, now that we unchained the earth from its sun? Should we not be worried now that we have lost our orientation?

What we were left in is, what I propose to call, a ‘grand narrative vacuum’. So what is this ‘grand narrative vacuum’ exactly? The grand narrative vacuum is concerned with the lack of a coherent story that provides you with the answers to the big questions and that can be used to orient your life with, whether those are religious, or philosophical true-world narratives. We could say that a society, culture, or country is in a state of a grand narrative vacuum when there is currently no prominent grand narrative that helps shape its citizens' identities and provides them with answers to the biggest questions in a coherent framework. This vacuum is associated with a lack of the traditions and practices that are used to enforce such a grand narrative. To stick with the Western focus, the Christian grand narrative came with practices like a weekly mass, festivities, moments of silence and reflection, praying, and so forth. These practices provided us with therapeutic value, highlighted the equality of all humans,

and had many more benefits and much research still shows a positive effect of religiosity, and religious practices. There is no real consensus on the degree of its association, but a recent meta-analysis by Garssen, Visser and Pool (2021)concluded that there is a “consistent though modest association between religiousness, spirituality and mental health.”

Now, if we have murdered God, we too have killed many of such practices and the positive value it gave us. Non-believers don’t go to Church. Nor do they pray or thank God, and that while religious practices are evidently good for our mental health.

Some people have tried to deal with the problem of the grand narrative vacuum by trying to maintain the benefits of the grand narrative by using the practices and traditions from the now dead God in a “new” secular manner. One such attempt comes from Alain De Botton, who in his Religion For Atheists provides a way the non-believers can use the traditions and aspects of religions to gain comfort in this vacuum, even if the religion is not metaphysically true.

Amongst other things, he argues for changing museums of modern art into ‘secular temples’, starting ‘Agape Restaurants’ where peoples of all backgrounds have dinner together to replace the eucharist.

However, though attempts such as De Botton’s are great at highlighting the importance of t he practices of a grand narrative, they themselves do not provide us with a new grand narrative to fill the vacuum. So, let us now make the jump from those accounts that aim to maintain the benefits of the killed God by utilizing the associated practices, to the potentially constructive side of science and ask ourselves what science can and has done to present a new grand narrative.

One of the first scientific attempts at giving humanity some grand narrative that comes to mind are those of the Big Historians. It is their attempts which will be the main focus of the remainder of this essay.

Big History is a multidisciplinary approach to history started by David Christian. Big historians use findings from cosmology, geology, anthropology, genetics, etc. to present a scientific grand narrative of our species which includes answers to the questions of where we came from and what the future holds for humanity. Some wellrespected works of Big History include David Christian’s Maps of Time and Fred Spier’s Big History & The Future Of Humanity. On the other hand, you have the more popular science books that can be classified as big history, which include Yuval Noah Harari’s Homo Sapiens and Homo Deus and Jared Diamond’s Guns, Germs and Steel.

Such accounts, though it is not per se their primary goal, provide in some sense a modern scientific grand narrative. They go into the biggest of questions and provide a coherent narrative which can be used to put your short life in perspective. This approach by Big History to develop a grand narrative is quite appealing.

One of the core strengths of the approach is that it is based on observable, verifiable science. One of the main flaws of the God hypothesis and of many other grand narratives was their speculative nature. The claims had to be accepted by faith and/or conviction, and when science came around and found some flaws in the claims made by the grand narrative, it fell apart. Big History though, is by its very nature testable and verifiable. This too brings forth another important characteristic which sets Big History (scientific grand narratives in general) apart from the traditional grand narratives, namely that Big History is not inalterable or absolute. Science progresses, changes , and updates its theories and the grand narrative would follow. The traditional narratives were often solid, rather than fluid, and were opposed to change. This absoluteness in its claims was partially why the scientific findings led to such a rapid decline in these grand narratives as these grand narratives were reluctant to keep up with the new findings. But, these traditional grand narratives did have a point. If we want something

to orient ourselves with, then surely it must be fixed and absolute? In that sense, the argument can be made that Big History in that regard can hardly function as a compass. For if the thing we should orientate ourselves with could change its place, then how does it really solve the problem? Are we then not still unable to tell what is up and what is down for the thing we are using to tell what is up and what is down could change? To this, I will make some quick remarks to provide some nuance and show that this non-absoluteness is not a game-breaker, per se. Firstly, science changes, but most of these changes are updates and further specifications that help explain a phenomenon on a deeper level, and thus undermine the older theory (though the old theory still provides reasonable practical explanations). Secondly, and rather similarly, science very rarely makes 180 degree turns. In that sense, though it doesn’t necessarily provide a true north, the north will likely not become south anytime soon.

David Christian’s Maps of Time is a prime example of what Big History is and what Big History does, so to get a better picture of what Big History has to offer, let’s take a quick tour through his Maps of Time. In this book, Christian goes into the cosmology of the Big Bang model and the evidence that we have for it to present a scientific creation myth, then moves on to the developments throughout the first billions of years of the universe and the creation of stars, heavy elements, and ultimately planets. It is a clearly human-centred approach, and within one fifth of the book he starts going into abiogenesis and the evolution of more complex life. For the majority of the ~500 page book, he then goes into the developments of humanity itself and how through revolutions and discoveries we have gotten to where we are today. He concludes with a chapter on the future. Throughout the book certain themes are repeated and provide some coherence and connection between the different scales (both in time and space).

One such theme is the continuous battle between chaos and order, between complexity and the second law of thermodynamics. But, qua coherence and a story, that’s about as close as we get.

Christian’s book, though it is very well-written and researched, lacks a real story. It lacks emotional appeal and this is needed if it is to fill the grand narrative vacuum.

David Christian’s book, and Big History in general, is filled with scientific jargon and to get a good picture of the grand narrative requires a refresher course on not just one discipline, but on astronomy, evolution, anthropology, complexity theory, sociology, etc. The grand narrative it aims to build, also lacks appeal and accessibility. It might not fail for the mistakes that the compatibilist and traditional narratives made, but it still needs improvement if we want it to help us comfort the worrying Madman.

Though it is a narrative, this scientific grand narrative thus lacks a story and especially lacks the romanticisation and mythologisation that is present in the traditional narratives. A book like David Christian’s Maps of Time features no real plot, no romantic tension, very little comedy, and there is a clear absence of characters too (especially in the earlier chapters). Though some parts are written quite eloquently, the general narrative it presents is still one of relaying the scientific consensus.

One of the traditional grand narratives' strengths, in contrast to this refrained scientific attempt, has been their use of romanticised stories (or at least romanticised interpretations of not so romantic stories). Imagery, ambiguity, poetry, and metaphor are ever-present. And for a reason too. In our scientific grand narratives this has been lacking. Sure, Sagan and Feynman can talk empathetically about physics and astronomy, but it isn't widespread enough and there is so much material to cover. Just think of how the continent of North America has slowly been drifting away from Eurasia. This could be personified, romanticised as two lovers that have started growing apart through the process of underlying conflicts and movements (plate tectonics). “Will they ever get back together?”, the reader might ask. Or think of tragedies about the never-ending decrease in star formation, until the 2nd law of thermodynamics has taken over and we are left in a cold dark universe, or eulogies about the galactic graveyard that would then

occur, or of the mass death that came before us. In other words, we need to see more of this: For stardust thou art and to stardust thou shalt return And less of this: The heavier elements scattered throughout the galaxy were first formed in stars and in supernovae. As the universe aged, the proportion of new elements (other than hydrogen and helium) has steadily increased.

Without the chemically rich environment created by stars and supernovae, our earth could not have been born, and life could not have evolved.

(Christian, 2005, p.51-52) The few romanticised accounts of elements of our scientific grand narrative that we do have, such as Sagan’s work, or perhaps some science fiction writers such as Isaac Asimov, Douglas Adams, or Arthur C. Clarke, have not been grouped together either. We have fragments of stories here, and there, but they have not really been canonised, categorised or brought together in a bundle of books.What would help in making the Big Historian grand narrative more coherent is somesecular biblios.

It has thus been a false start after the death of God, but there are lessons to be learned from our failures and I am optimistic that a new “grand narrative” can be generated.

A secular biblios would be a great start in doing this and it could even ironically start with a play on Genesis 1: “In the beginning, Time woke up from its endless slumber...”

Now it's up to us to continue the story, to help calm down the Madman and to prevent ourselves from “straying as though through an infinite nothing”.

References Christian, D. (2005). Maps of time.

Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.

De Botton, A. (2013). Religion for atheists. New York, NY: Three Rivers Press.

Diamond, J. (1997).Guns, Germs, and Steel: the fates of human society. New York, NY, W.W. Norton & Co. Garssen, B., Visser, A., & Pool, G. (2021).

Does Spirituality or Religion Positively Affect Mental Health? Meta-analysis of Longitudinal Studies. International Journal for the Psychology of Religion, 31(1), 4-20.

Harari, Y. N. (2016). Homo Deus. Harvill Secker.

Harari, Y. N.. ( 2015). Sapiens : a brief history of humankind. New York: Harper.

Nietzsche, F. W. (2001). Cambridge texts in the history of philosophy: Nietzsche: The gay science: With a prelude in German rhymes and an appendix of songs (B. Williams, Επιμ.; A. del Caro & J. Nauckhoff, Μτφ.).

Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.

Spier, F. (2015). Big history and the future of humanity. Hoboken, NJ: WileyBlackwell.

Young, J. (2003) The Death of God and the Meaning of Life.

A NEW DAY Written by: Eoin Hodkinson Illustrated by: Kim Naber

From the depths of darkness a morning is born, the graceful bees motoring along exposing the beauty hidden amongst the thorns, For they say tomorrow never comes but today has arrived a new Thousands wake in repeat of the same systematic function the robotic agony of going through the motions, but you can't keep going caught, suffering, and broken, stuck at your life's junction but the new dawn has brought a new day for all, but it shall only be for one the only one who possess the power of change You rise with the power to seize the day, You rise and take on the fight of a new day

FACING HISTORY: GERMAN REUNIFICATION AND THE RENOVATION OF THE REICHSTAG Written by: Nick Arndt Illustrated by: Kasper Heijne Foster’s renovation of the Reichstag was different from most architectural projects. It was neither a brand-new construction nor is it a renovation that closely follows the original layout of the building. The original version of the building was destroyed during the Reichstagsbrand and World War Two and has been replaced with a modernist renovation in the 1960s. With German reunification in the 1990s, the need arose for the building to accommodate the practical and symbolic needs of a modern parliament. The majority of the building’s core was removed, leaving only structural elements and the original stone facade. Foster left no visible trace of Baumgarten’s modest modernist design from the 1960s,

With German reunification in the 1990s, the need arose for the building to accommodate the practical and symbolic needs of a modern parliament. The majority of the building’s core was removed, leaving only structural elements and the original stone facade. Foster left no visible trace of Baumgarten’s modest modernist design from the 1960s, which had changed the interior significantly compared to the initial layout. In its place, a new modern interior was built, with an emphasis on high-end technology and sustainability, while creating as much open, transparent, and accessible space as possible (Figure 1). By keeping the original facade largely in its original condition, Foster reconnected

Figure 1.

modern German parliamentary democracy with its past. As Ascher Barnstone correctly asks, though, “to what past?”. It is not just contested what meanings this building has had in the past, but also which view of the past is symbolized here. Notably, Foster’s approach to the past seems to not concern itself with the history of the post-war era much, as can be seen by the near traceless removal of Baumgarten’s renovation.

Foster wrote, “Throughout the rebuilding we followed a clear ethos of reconciling our new interiors with the historical fabric”.

This shows that Foster drew an arbitrary line at some point in time, ending his perceived ‘history’ of the building, in which Baumgarten’s renovation found no place. This is not to defend Baumgarten’s work, which certainly showed little understanding of—or respect for— the history of the building. What Foster sees as ‘history’ and as worthwhile remembering, then, is Imperial Germany, Weimar, and the Nazi period. These are undoubtedly the most troubled periods of German history, calling

for a direct, sincere, and honest reflection. In the Reichstag, the reflection of this past comes in defiance of a reflection about the more recent history, though.

Foster stated in a New York Times interview: “Our approach was based in the view that the history of the building should not be sanitized. And the fact that Germany accepted this approach shows to me what an extraordinarily progressive and open society it has become." This is a view that Germans pride themselves on, but it has not always been true. Reflection about the past was not always as honest and direct as it may be today, which was also argued by Wise: “The Bundestag's move into the renovated Reichstag will bring parliament and Germany at large back into physical contact with its history in a way the legislature managed to avoid for four decades by virtue of Bonn’s modernity”. aumgarten’s renovation certainly stood for this modernity of the Bonn Republic, in its modesty, lack of strong symbolism, and indirect way of reflecting on the past. The shortcomings of Bonn’s politics of.

memory and history, then, were reflected in Baumgarten’s design.

To assume that Foster’s rejection of the previous renovation was strongly shaped by this and was thus politically motivated, though, would be questionable. It seems unlikely that he would have had such awareness of the intricacies of memory politics in post-war Germany, even though he did invest much time in studying the history of both the Reichstag and Germany. That the history of Vergangenheitsbewältingung itself has found no architectural representation in the renovated Reichstag, though, should not relativize the achievements of Foster’s design in facing Germany’s troubled past.

Especially in comparison to Baumgarten’s renovation, Foster’s design expresses a great awareness and understanding of the history of both the original building and of Germany itself. The juxtaposition of old and new that can be seen in almost all elements of the renovation accentuates the building’s past and confronts the viewer with it. An example is Figure 2, showing how Foster brought out the arched vaults of the original design, which had been ignored by Baumgarten. It is not just the mere highlighting of old features, though. The contrast between Foster’s hypermodern, technologically advanced, light, and transparent architecture, and

the dark, cold heaviness of the original structure “presents an interesting juxtaposition between the “other,” in the form of a contemporary esthetic using modern materials and constructive means, in direct confrontation with a building alternatively considered the symbol of Wilhelmine authoritarianism, botched Weimar democracy, and, however inaccurately, National Socialist oppression”. In this sense, the new features serve as a frame, showcasing the historical elements of the building. As can be seen in Figure 3, new elements like this set of stairs, were emphasized as new insertions that did not seek to replicate historical forms, but instead sought to contrast them in material and design.

Figure 2.

Figure 3.

In Figures 3 and 4, one can also see some of the aforementioned Soviet graffiti, which was uncovered during the demolition of Baumgarten’s building. Its preservation was a controversial choice that some observers struggled to understand, as the graffiti not only symbolized defeat, but also the horrors of the Second World War. Foster reflected that “Preserving these scars allows the building to become a living museum of German history,” forcing everyone working in or visiting the Reichstag to be confronted with the past. This is an especially powerful reminder for the politicians who walk the halls of the Reichstagsgebäude today, as it is their responsibility to prevent the errors of the past from being repeated and to uphold the values of modern German democracy. It was precisely this approach, “careful to reveal rather than erase traces of the building’s troubled

past” which contributed to the success of Foster’s renovation.

The most prominent and most intensely discussed feature of the rebuilding is without a doubt the glass cupola, which JamesChakraborty identified as the other key factor to the project’s success. The cupola also embodies the juxtaposition that characterizes the design overall, as it is transparent, accessible, technologically advanced, and rich in symbolism that contrasts intensely with the old stone facade on which it stands. It offers a perspective onto a troubled past, from an improved present, with the promise of an even better future. The contrast is strengthened as it is not only in reference to the present remainder of the original structure beneath it but also to the historical dome that once stood in its place.

While its form was somewhat similar, it varied greatly in function, as it had none of the impressive modern features of Foster’s dome today and was of a rather ornamental function. Its symbolism, though, was similar. It was meant to symbolize parliamentary representative government and did so in a less ambivalent way than the rest of Wallot’s building. It was free of the symbolism of German nationalism and militarism and instead

referenced other ‘democratic’ buildings around the world.

Foster’s dome today is incredibly rich in similar democratic symbolism, and manifold meanings have been read into it.

This will be elaborated upon in the following sections, which will outline, critique, and compare different interpretations and explanations of Foster’s renovation of the Reichstag.

In his critically acclaimed 2003 essay about architecture in Berlin since reunification, Rolf Goebel identifies the Reichstag as one of the most prominent examples of architectural citation. The term describes an architecture that combines historical structures and styles with postmodern designs in an eclectic manner. He sees the emergence of this practice as “Berlin's renegotiation of its identity as the new-old capital” in the context of the contemporary world. One crucial part of this renegotiation was ‘critical reconstruction’, the plan to restore much of Berlin Mitte’s urban design and architecture in the fashion of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries to counter the ahistorical character of modernist architecture that

prevailed for most of the postwar period in Berlin. This postmodern approach was in a way both the rejection of (post-war) modernism and the embrace of elements of (Weimar) modernism. Alongside this return to historical forms, Berlin also witnessed an intensified spread of the postmodern high-tech architecture of global capitalism.

Goebel criticizes Berlin’s previous modernist city planning, specifically for its lack of historical consciousness, while also acknowledging the shortcomings of postmodernist approaches to the past (i.e critical reconstruction).

Goebel sees the renovated Reichstag as a new building with an old facade, not a historic building with a new interior. The Reichstag, he argues, cites its history while at the same time signaling historical discontinuity and stylistic dissonance. This can be seen in the juxtaposition of old and new as described earlier..

Figure 4.

There are parallels between Foster’s historical citations in the Reichstag and the historicism of critical reconstruction, if just the shared temporal and spatial context in Berlin Mitte, but they should be distinguished. Goebel analyzes the Reichstag within the context of architectural citation and critical reconstruction. While he does not state that the Reichstag is an example of critical reconstruction, he does not elaborate on their differences either. Foster's Reichstag, unlike much postmodern historicist architecture in Berlin, shows respect for the original structure and recognizes its architectural and historical value. The issue of authenticity, common in historicist postmodern architecture, is marginal in Foster’s design as the old and new are clearly and

effectively separated. Foster did not aim to replicate historical forms. He maintained what was left of the original, and added new features.

The dome, while referencing the original, does not replicate it and instead signifies a new beginning of parliamentary democracy. All this differentiates the postmodernism of the Reichstag from ‘critical reconstruction’.

The dome is a key symbolic element of the design. This can be seen in the significant attention it has received, including its prominent placement on the Bundestag’s own website, media coverage in general, and Foster’s own focus on it. It is also one of the few elements about which Foster and his team concerned themselves with symbolism and meaning, which were otherwise less of a focus than practical and functional

questions. Even if Foster did not intend to signify specific political ideals, it is nonetheless evident that the Reichstag, especially the cupola, does carry much symbolism. It can indeed be seen as “Part of a monument that stands not only for the past but also for the present state of the nation”.

Lutz Koepenick has argued that the dome, in its heterogeneity, also exhibits the historical discontinuity that Goebel reads into the entirety of the Reichstag. This is expressed both in the contrast to the original facade and in the reference to the original dome. He also comments on the popular topic of glass and transparency. While Koepenick, like most others, expresses doubts about the ability of transparent glass architecture. to bring about democratic transparency

in politics, he connects his interpretation of the usage of glass with discussions about monumentality in modernism.

With the use of glass, he argues, Foster brought into the present the same issues which the “monumental antimonumentalism of modernism” once was propelled by. While Koepenick recognizes similarities between Foster’s dome and modernist uses of glass, he also points out that Foster sought to create a postmodern monumentality without the negative associations of modernist monumentality, thus marking a turn away from modernism. This reclaiming of the monumental is also a departure from the antimonumentalism and lack of strong architectural symbolism characterizing the architecture of

the Bonn Republic. The renovated Reichstag, in its rejection of Bonn modernism, brought with it an increased aestheticization, popularization, and charisma for the new German state. This shows a change in the government’s official representation via architecture and thus both a new political self-understanding and a different attitude toward history.

Koepnick connects this with the “museal gaze”, which allows the visitor of a building to experience the past and present outside of conventional norms of temporality. The ramps within the dome are the key feature in this regard, allowing visitors to rise above the roofs of Berlin to perceive history by both looking at the Reichstag and away from it, onto Berlin (Figure 5). This, in combination with the popularity of the cupola as a tourist attraction, he argues, depoliticizes the urban landscape of Berlin and contributes to changing political legitimation through architecture, providing pleasurable experiences to the public instead of appealing to constitutional patriotism in a national public sphere. The dome does not help in the creation of “a new political culture in which democratic politics and impressive architecture, constitutional patriotism and affective symbolism go hand in hand”, instead it “effaces the boundaries between the private and the

public, between the pleasurable and the political”. This complements other interpretations of the FRG’s changing self-representation.

These postmodernist interpretations clearly explain Foster’s Reichstag as a step away from the modernism of Bonn, towards a new monumental postmodern architecture. While postmodernism is in any sense vague, the one characteristic that does define it is its rejection and criticism of modernism. This rejection of modernism is one of the central elements shaping Foster’s renovation of the Reichstag, as Baumgarten’s much-critiqued modernist renovation was torn out and made way for Foster’s new interior. Foster has also criticized the previous renovation in writing.

This constitutes the clearest argument for the Reichstag to be characterized as postmodern architecture but is often overlooked in historiography. Yet, Foster gives Baumgarten’s renovation little importance, even though it is discussed and critiqued frequently. While the renovation was of course first necessitated by practical and logistical considerations and only then by symbolic and political ones, the elimination of Baumgarten’s modernist renovation is highly relevant on several layers. Firstly, it is specifically a rejection of

Baumgarten’s design. Secondly, it is a critique of the modernist architectural Zeitgeist of post-war Germany generally, which shaped Baumgarten’s design intensely.

Thirdly, it also reflects a change in the politics of memory and governmental representation via architecture that occurred with the transition from the FRG as West Germany to the FRG as a unified Germany. While postmodernist readings of the Reichstag form the standard account of Foster’s design, they are not uncontested. In her fascinating monograph Modernism As Memory: Building Identity in the Federal Republic of Germany, Kathleen JamesChakraborty argues that the architecture of the renovated Reichstag is not a novelty. Instead, she shows that such palimpsests could be found in modernist architecture in Germany since before the foundation of the FRG in 1949. This is an interesting alternative that adds much to the understanding of memory in modernist architecture in Germany in general and the Reichstag in particular. Her central argument is that the standard interpretations, which view the architecture of the Reichstag as new, unique, and distinctly postmodern, are inaccurate. She points out instead that representations of historical memory in architecture had existed since the 1940s in both

West-Germany and other countries.

"Serving as a de facto representation of the state long before it was adopted for the Reichstag, this architecture helped knit the new state together. Its defining feature is the pairing of obviously historic fabric— or the representation of it— with abstract form constructed out of modern materials. The pairing suggests an awareness of past trauma as well as the possibility of a better— and, in the case of the Reichstag, quite clearly a more democratic—future while providing Germans with a compelling and influential expression of an almost antinationalist identity."

This counters the argument, made especially by Andreas Huyssen, who also inspired much of the interpretations discussed in the previous section, that the Reichstag is specifically postmodern.

Figure 5.

The practice of reviving historical ruins by combining them with modernist architecture can be found in many examples of earlier German architecture, especially in churches, which JamesChakraborty analyzes in great detail. The renovated Reichstag should therefore be seen as neomodernist architecture, she argues.

One of the shortcomings of the aforementioned postmodernist readings pointed out by the author is an inaccurate portrayal of the history of modernism. The history of modernism, she argues, is often presented as the history of the great masters, like Le Corbusier or Mies van der Rohe, and disregards the middle ground of modernist architecture. It is in this middle ground, overlooked by postmodernist spectators, where previous examples of the palimpsest in modernist memory architecture could be found.

James-Chakraborty does offer some differentiation between the architecture in focus here, and modernism in general. Instead of modernism’s intended break with the past, this specific brand of modernism bridged the gap between past and present through a historicist antimonumentality that was in stark contrast to previous forms of modernist architecture. This, she argues, “provided a model for a renascent modern architecture, tempered by postmodernism’s

respect for context and attention to scale but independent of its often shallow focus on surface and its superficial trust in being able to restore an ideal order that never existed,” thus showing her awareness of postmodernism’s impacts on political architecture in Germany. She, therefore, characterizes the renovated Reichstag not just as a modernist but specifically as neo-modernism, a renaissance, and a reconfiguration of modernist architecture.

James-Chakraborty also comments upon the debate about critical reconstruction, reemphasizing the central argument that the Reichstag is to be understood as neo-modernist architecture, not as postmodern.

Critical reconstruction, here, is contrasted with neo-modernist examples which clash with the architectural policies of Berlin city planners. This neo-modernist architecture, adding ornamental and symbolic elements to the traditionally abstract and functiondriven forms of modernism, has won against postmodernism’s critical reconstruction in “the battle over the appearance of Berlin’s renewed center”. JamesChakraborty partially attributes this success to the fact that neomodernist architecture, including the Reichstag, was able to attract many tourists. Tourism has become an increasingly important factor in Berlin’s economy and

Interestingly, the Bundestag seems to be aware of this, as an exhibition about the history of the parliament has been set up in the cupola to counter the character of the cupola as a purely touristic site of leisure. Tourism is not the only aspect in which neo-modernist and postmodernist interpretations work well together. The concept of ‘historical reference’, frequently employed by James-Chakraborty, is also very similar to Goebel’s ‘architectural citation’ and the combined use of these notions would enrich historiography on this topic.

In her discussion about the clash between neo-modernism and critical reconstruction, James-Chakraborty states that “[...] neomodernism acknowledges that the twentieth century happened [...]”, recognizing the influences that also shaped postmodernism’s critiques.

Furthermore, she emphasizes that the Reichstag was successful because Foster revealed, rather than hid traces of the past. It is contradictory to these claims, if not ignorant, that Baumgarten’s renovation is thematized in only two sentences in the entire book.

This is a major shortcoming of James-Chakraborty’s argumentation. She places the Reichstag in line with earlier buildings that lay in ruins and then were reconstructed with modernist additions but does not discuss that the Reichstag went

through two such processes. First, there was Baumgarten’s renovation, which is unequivocally considered to have been unsuccessful. Even Baumgarten distanced himself from this project later on in his life. Only after the removal of this modernist renovation could Foster’s redesign be introduced in its place. This poses a significant issue for JamesChakraborty’s thesis. When Foster began his renovation, be it a postmodern or neo-modern design, the Reichstag did not lay in ruins, unlike the other examples that the author compares it with.

This project was a clear rejection of the post-war modernism that came before it. While the author does differentiate between the neo-modernism of the Reichstag, and the modernism of West Germany in the decades before it, her argumentation does not account for such a radical rejection of the latter. Considering this, it seems logical to state—her argumentation notwithstanding— that Foster’s renovation of the Reichstag was indeed a postmodern project.

The issue of classification, though, should not overshadow the nuance and depth that JamesChakraborty’s book adds to the understanding of the Reichstag. It is apparent now that the architectural choices in the renovation of the Reichstag were neither novel, nor unique, and drew upon a long history of

modernist architecture that used the juxtaposition of historic ruins with (neo-)modernist architectural idealism to create very potent symbolism. Norman Foster’s renovation of the Reichstag, which should be classified as postmodern architecture, has created a powerful symbol that forces an intense confrontation with Germany’s past.

This essay has shown, though, that the Reichstag only presents an eclectic view of German history, and both the building itself and literature about it do not thematize its postwar history sufficiently. The renovation of the Reichstag by Paul Baumgarten in the 1960s has emerged very centrally in this essay.

Even though the renovation itself was unspectacular and lacked both political and architectural relevance, it should receive more attention in both modernist and postmodernist

accounts of the Reichstag’s history.

Even the official exhibition about the history of the German parliament in the Reichstag’scupola makes no mention of it. Foster’s renovation is often treated as if it only had to deal with the original structure but a significant part of the work was the removal of the previous renovation. The interplay between the unsuccessful previous project and the recent one is very significant, especially as a typical postmodernist rejection of modernism. This is even more relevant when one connects these architectural trends with the memory politics of the respective German governments at the time.

Bonn’s distant and indirect confrontation with history stands in stark contrast with the bolder, more monumental, and confident political architecture of Berlin,

especially Foster’s Reichstag.

Indeed, as James-Chakraborty wrote, “The repaired Reichstag has become the symbol of the Berlin Republic and indeed the most powerful architectural icon the Federal Republic has ever possessed”

References Ascher Barnstone, D. (2005). The Transparent State: Architecture and Politics in Postwar Germany. London: Taylor & Francis Group.

Brichetti, K. (2009). Die Paradoxie Des Postmodernen Historismus : Stadtumbau Und Städtebauliche Denkmalpflege Vom 19. Bis Zum 21. Jahrhundert Am Beispiel Von Berlin Und Beirut. 1. Aufl ed. Architext.

Berlin: Schiler.

Cullen, M. S. (2004). Der Reichstag: Im Spannungsfeld Deutscher Geschichte.

Berlin: Be.bra Verlag Dörner, A. (2000). Der Bundestag Im Reichstag. Zur Inszenierung Einer Politischen Institution in Der „Berliner Republik“. Zeitschrift Für Parlamentsfragen 31, no. 2, 237–46.

Foster, N. (2000). Rebuilding the Reichstag. London: Weidenfeld &Nicolson.

Goebel, R. J. (2003). Berlin’s Architectural Citations: Reconstruction, Simulation, and the Problem of Historical Authenticity.

PMLA 118, no. 5, 1268–89.

Huyssen, A. (1997). The Voids of Berlin.

Critical Inquiry 24, no. 1, 57–81.

Huyssen, A. (2003). Present Pasts: Urban Palimpsests and the Politics of Memory.

Cultural Memory in the Present. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press.

James-Chakraborty, K. (2018).

Modernism As Memory: Building Identity in the Federal Republic of Germany.

Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.

Jarosinski, E. (2002). Architectural Symbolism and the Rhetoric of Transparency: A Berlin Ghost Story.”

Journal of Urban History 29, no. 1, 62–77.

Koepnick, L. (2001). Redeeming History? Foster’s Dome and the Political Aesthetic of the Berlin Republic. German Studies Review 24, no. 2, 303–23.

Ladd, B. (1997). The Ghosts of Berlin: Confronting Urban History in the Urban Landscape. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Schulz, B. & Foster, N. (2000). The Reichstag: The Parliament Building by Norman Foster. Munich: Prestel.

Siedler, W. J. (1998). Phoenix Im Sand : Glanz Und Elend Der Hauptstadt. Berlin: Propyläen.

Wise, M. Z. (1999). “Norman Foster ’s Reichstag Illuminating Shadows Of The Past.” In Capital Dilemma, 121-134. New York: Princeton Architectural Press.

COLOPHON EDITORIAL BOARD Wally van der Laan - Editor-In-Chief Jakub Andrej Filčák - Organisational Officer Yulia Sargeeva - Internal Officer Nicole Tanase - Social Media Officer

DESIGN Wally van der Laan

ILLUSTRATORS Kim Naber Elvy Leonida Kasper Heijne Emi Plapis Keks Anastasija

COVER Kim Naber Elvy Leonida

INFORMATION We would like to thank our team of peer reviewers and the staff at the Honours College of the University of Groningen for their work and support in the publishing of this issue.

Issue 15 // June 2023 P-ISSN 2214-6083 E-ISSN 2214-6466 Honours Review is a publication of students at the University of Groningen, the Netherlands. For more information, visit www.honoursreview.com or our Instagram page @HonoursReview