II: OLYMPIASTADION

The Olympic stadium for Berlin’s 1936 Olympic games was one of Speer’s earliest major works as Hitler’s chief architect (Speer, 1970). His design was adapted from that of another architect, Werner March (der Wissenschaft, 2004) (Lehmann, 2021), which originally used a concrete framework with glass partitions between sections which also acted as part of the façade, similar to the Vienna Stadium at the time (Speer, 1970). According to Speer’s memoirs, Hitler was greatly displeased with this styling to such an extent that he talked about pulling Germany out of the hosting of the Olympics. He is quoted by Speer as saying

“Cancel the Olympic Games” begin without [his] presence, since the Chief of State must open them” and that he (Speer, 1970). This is reminiscent of the previously mentioned 1931 Villa Savoye by Le Corbusier, a building which pioneered the fledgling modernist style (Rowe, 2011) of the 20th century through thin-framed glazed elements and narrow structural columns which, combined with the many overhangs of the upper floors, help the building to appear to lightly float off the ground, especially from afar.

Speer took the opportunity to propose his own neo-classical vision for the stadium (figure 7), using March’s concrete structure, which was already amid construction, but cladding it in natural stone, and adorning it with long banners of deep red emblazoned with swastikas, and removing the wider use of glass elements. Hitler took to the more classical aspects of this design and approved the finances needed to realise Speer’s vision (Speer, 1970), which was significantly more aligned with neo-classical design tropes such as the raw natural stone cladding and large structural columns, and with decorative stone cornices which border some of the horizontal layers of stonework. This style is reminiscent of the Ionic, one of the five orders of classical architecture (Jenkins, 2006) – the fluted stone columns of this style are also prevalent in other neo-classical works by Speer (Speer, 1970).

The hierarchy of elements within the stadium’s façade (figure 5) also mimics that of the Greek Parthenon (figure 6), which closely resembles the Golden Ratio as a means of determining the proportions of each component of the structure (Akhtaruzzaman & Shafie, 2011). In the Parthenon, this entails large vertical columns which support a roof structure subdivided closely into the relative dimensions of the ‘golden spiral’ (Thapa & Thapa, 2018). The Golden Ratio is a mathematical term which relates to, among other things, a rectangle of aspect ratio 1:1.6180… - denoted by the Greek letter Φ (Phi) (Akhtaruzzaman & Shafie, 2011). This rectangle can be split along the long side into a square and smaller rectangle which is of the same aspect ratio. This process is infinitely repeatable, as the rectangles are subdivided into smaller and smaller repetitions of themselves (Akhtaruzzaman & Shafie, 2011). Drawing a curve which follows these subdivisions creates a spiral, known as the Golden Spiral. Some, including the architect Le Corbusier and artist Salvador Dali, have proposed that this ratio has intrinsic aesthetic properties and is associated with beauty (Fun, Usman, Utaberta, Araffin, & Sharif, 2021). Many have also speculated that the proportions of Leonardo Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa painting adhere to those of the Golden Spiral, although this is debated within the historiography (Markowsky, 1992). The significance of this in the context of this essay is the Ratio’s supposed connection to beauty and nature. As it has long been popularised that the Golden Ratio is intrinsically linked to beauty (for example, Gustav Theodor Fechner’s 1860s study on appealing aspect ratios, where he claimed the most popular choices closely approximated this ratio (Livio, 2002)), we can infer that using it as a basis for design might have been intended to produce an outcome which is based on physically appealing proportions which are found both in nature and in geometry (Akhtaruzzaman & Shafie, 2011).

The implications of this may produce a design whose inherent beauty enhances its impact as a work of art and propaganda. With that said, it is important to note that some sources claim that the Golden Ratio is often attributed erroneously to certain works of art where there is no historical evidence its use was intentional (Markowsky, 1992). Irrespective of intention, there is a notable consistency which has been highlighted in Figures 5 and 6 which could indicate that the proportions of the Olympiastadion (figure 8) may have been influenced by those of the Parthenon.

Throughout the rise and fall of the Third Reich, propagandistic parallels between the German people and the Roman Empire were consistently engineered (Chapoutot, 2016). Not only in the architecture, but in their respective persecution of the Jewish people (Seaver, 1952). Through the grand classical architecture, the Nazis aligned their society with that of the Romans – just as the Romans were considered the height of civilisation in their time (Harper, 2017), so, too, did the Nazis wish to be seen as the greatest civilisation of their time (Speer, 1970).

To this end, Speer’s “greatest” assignment from Hitler came during his role as Berlin’s General Inspector of Building s (Speer, 1970). The wider project involved Berlin’s post-war transformation into what was to be known as “Welthaupstadt Germania”, which translates to “World Capital Germania” . Continuing the running parallels between the Romans and the Nazis, Hitler’s desire for a “1000-year Reich” (Hitler, 1939) reflects in part the nickname Rome bears - “The Eternal City” (Maier, 2020). This comparison alone is loaded both politically and historically as the lifespan of an empire can be associated with its power, stability, and prosperity (Bowersock, 1974) such as the Byzantine Empire which lasted from 285CE to 1453CE (World History Encyclopedia, 2022) and fostered an era of economic advancement (Pirenne, 1936). For Hitler to declare his world capital to last a millennium evokes the same greatness to which Rome owes its title. Hitler is quoted as saying:

“As the world capital, Berlin will only be comparable to ancient Egypt, Babylon, or Rome! What is London, what is Paris against it!” (Jochmann, 2000)

We can infer from this the sheer egotistical fanaticism Hitler had for classical civilisation and its associated architecture. The heart of Hitler’s new world capital would have been the Volkshalle, or People’s Hall (Figure 8) – an enormous domed structure inspired by Hadrian’s Pantheon in Rome (Speer, 1970)(Figure 11). Like many of Hitler’s architectural plans, his idea for the Volkshalle was based upon existing structures of notable grandeur and amplifying their scale as a major display of power – as Speer writes in his memoirs, Hitler directly referenced the Pantheon in his specifications for the Volkshalle (Speer, 1970)(figure 9, 10). As the most colossal piece of propaganda, the Volkshalle would have been the crowning jewel of Hitler’s political empire (Boehlert, 2017). Through his comparisons to Egypt, Babylon, and Rome, we can perceive that Hitler believed his people were to bear the torch of these historical peoples – that the German people were to carry the torch of human civilisation, just as the Egyptians, Greeks and Romans had done before (Mommsen, 1862). The Neo-Classical styling of Nazi architecture stands as a propagandistic testament to the belief in their civilisation, grandeur, and desire to form a lasting empire.

The Volkshalle was to be of a scale unseen in the world, even to this day (Glancey, 2017). The original inspiration came from Hitler, who initiated the project with his sketches, from a visit to Hadrian’s Pantheon in Rome. He said:

“From the time I experienced this building – no description, picture or photograph did it justice – I became interested in its history […] For a short while I stood in this space (the rotunda) – what majesty! I gazed at the large open oculus and saw the universe and sensed what had given this space the name Pantheon – God and the world are one.”

(Giesler, 2005)

Speer’s memoirs reveal that such a grand temple to the Gods captured the imagination of Hitler. Just as Augustus’s personal home was connected to the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine Hill in Rome, so, too, did Hitler instruct his Fuhrer Palace, his private home, to be linked directly to the Volkshalle (Speer, 1970) – a further propagandistic reference which frames Germany as a new empire; and Hitler, its emperor (Baranowski, 2011). In the TV adaptation of Phillip K. Dick’s fictional alternate America: “The Man in the High Castle” (Dick, 1962), Hitler’s personal quarters are housed within the Volkshalle itself (Percival, 2015).

He would, in many senses, mirror his imperial predecessors – but in a manner and scale which had never been seen in the world before (Boehlert, 2017) (DrGull1888, 2011).

As the centrepiece of Hitler’s Welthaupstadt, the Volkshalle was unmatched in its proposed scale (Glancey, 2017): an enormous podium of granite measuring 315m x 315m was to support the dome. The dome itself was then to be of a diameter of 250m, with an oculus (the central opening at the top of the dome) would have been of 46m in diameter – wide enough to encompass the dome adorning the roof of St. Peter’s Basilica, located in the Vatican City (Glancey, 2017). If built, this enormous space would comprise the largest enclosed space in the world, both at the time of its conception and today. If constructed, it would have sufficient floor space to accommodate over 180,000 people standing (Glancey, 2017). A structure of such immense scale would see the combined condensation of 180,000 breathing occupants form clouds and, subsequently, rainfall, within the space itself (Glancey, 2017). As a propaganda tool, no feat of design, engineering, and construction could possibly represent German cultural and technical superiority over the Volkshalle (Amado, Arevalo, Escoda, & Berkin) – no art, speech or indoctrination would influence and inspire to the extent that such a monument to Nazi values, hewn in stone, could provide (Kallis, 2005).

The entrance to the hall would have been flanked on either side by two enormous sculptures of Atlas (the mythological Greek Titan condemned to hold up the Heavens for eternity) on the left. The opposite side was to be marked with another statue depicting Tellus, or Terra Mater from the Latin for ‘Mother Earth’, who was in Roman mythology, the Earth Goddess (The Editors of Encyclopedia Britannica , 2018).

On the opposite end of Berlin’s proposed North-South axis road, was to be the site of a great stone arch (Figure 14), not unlike the Arc De Triomphe of Paris , which was itself inspired by classical design characteristics (Tolfree, 2000). Known also as a triumphant arch, this structure was sketched by Hitler and designed to be the biggest monument of its kind (Kitchen, 2015). Hitler wanted an arch so large that the more famous Arc De Triomphe of Paris could comfortably sit within the opening of Germania’s arch (Kitchen, 2015) – another demonstration of how architectural scale was used as a propagandistic tool to display wealth, power, and technical skill . To this end, Speer began laying the groundwork and testing materials for this gargantuan structure (Copley, 2019). To this day, there still stands in Berlin a “Schwerbelastungskörper” – translated as a “heavy load-bearing body” (Copley, 2019)(Figure 13).

This consisted of an enormous cylinder of cast concrete weighing approximately 12 million kilograms or 12,000 tons (Copley, 2019). To this day, the structure still stands in Berlin and was used as a model to test the effects of such an enormous and concentrated load on the relatively soft Berlin soil (Figure 12), which is mostly made up of soil types known as lockersyrosem, regosol, and pararendzina , all loose soils which are often also make up swampy wetlands (Environmental Atlas Berlin, 2022). The design, like much of the Nazi’s designs, was heavily informed by neo-classical design tropes such as the semi-circular arch design, often used in Roman architecture (Makris & Alexakis, 2013), as well as stone columns for both structural and ornamental uses .

Sculptural reliefs, carved into the stone, are also shown in the sketch produced (Figure 15). While no arch was built, and the sketches are of low detail, the use of these design traits in other projects, such as the new Reich chancellery and Volkshalle can inform us as to how the arch might appear . Speer, in his memoirs, writes about his appreciation for Doric design elements in architecture, a style of ancient Greek origin (Jenkins, 2006). While no column styles were specified for the arch, it is possible that Speer would draw upon the Doric style of column, characterised by its simplicity compared to other designs, and its shaft with sixteen flutes (Jenkins, 2006). Unlike the pointed arch which often is associated with Christian and Islamic architecture (Draper, 2016), the semi-circular arch is firmly rooted in Roman styling, with many triumphal arches being of Roman origin (Frothingham Jr., 1904). While many of these great structures have decayed or been lost, one survivor in Rome is the Arch of Constantine. Hitler visited Rome on several occasions and, taking inspiration, sketched his arch with a notable resemblance to the Arch of Constantine (Figure 14). The carved relief in both arches is a significant overlap in design, although the planned Nazi arch would have used more full sculptural elements to convey a story, rather than purely carved reliefs as seen in the Arch of Constantine.

The telling of a story through the visual medium of sculpture enshrines the arch as a public monument to the greatness of a people (WallaceHadrill, 1990).

As important as the structures themselves are, the planned use of large open boulevard spaces and wide streets, such as the NorthSouth axis which was to adjoin the Volkshalle with the Triumphal Arch are also relevant when discussing architecture and design as a propagandistic tool . Large open spaces, such as Nuremberg’s Zeppelinfeld (Zeppelin field), were used by the party as the grounds to host political rallies and speeches of enormous scale and importance (Speer, 1970). In Hitler’s plans for Berlin, substantial spaces were to be cleared in the centre of the city, around the Reichstag, and in front of the unbuilt Volkshalle, to address hundreds of thousands of Germans live (Speer, 1970).

To the party members, and members of German society, the propagandistic aspects of this thinking would not have been subtle . German greatness was a major theme in every one of Hitler’s speeches. It was preached in schools from a young age and was the highlight of every poster and piece of media (White, 1949). However, above all other propaganda forms , the neo-classical grandeur of Speer’s designs would evoke a particular sense of superiority and pride amongst Germans . Every one of Hitler’s planned structures for post-war Berlin was to be, in some capacity an imitation of the best of that which had come before, but on a scale meant to dwarf those inspirational source materials – the mark of their supposed superiority (Arnold, 2006).

The connection between proposed Nazi architecture and its classical inspiration, such as the Olympiastadion and the Pantheon and Colosseum, or the Volkshalle and Hadrian’s Pantheon, runs deeper than simply imitating those structures in their prime. In designing a piece of propaganda which would outlive all those who conceived of it, Speer began sketching and considering his designs in a new state: one in which his buildings were decrepit, abandoned, and overgrown with plant life (Ishida, 2020). To some member s of the party, images depicting their buildings long after the ravages of time were considered blasphemous (Speer, 1970). To Speer and Hitler , however, considering a building’s aesthetic qualities in this state was an important component of their peoples’ legacy.

To Speer, and later, to Hitler himself, the “law of ruins”, as it became known, was an essential aspect of the design process (Lane, 1986). Just as many historically significant structures from classical civilisations still stand in parts today, so, too, would Speer’s designs still stand a thousand years after their construction – not as functional buildings, but as enormous fallen monuments to their civilisation. It was believed that these buildings, the cradle of Nazi existence, would serve as propaganda for thousands of years to come, and one day be observed by archaeologists and historians with the same curiosity, wonder, and reverence as ancient ruins are seen today. This obsession with defying the ruining hands of time and nature to leave behind an astounding memorial to one’s civilisation is nothing short of Ozymandian (Shelley, 1818) – a lasting mark of Nazi German society which would survive beyond their lifetime (Featherstone, 2006).

The decline of Roman influence and stability is attributed to a number of factors which range from political corruption to economic stagnation (Harper, 2017). In a similar vein, the decline of Nazi influence and stability was predestined from the time it began emulating its Roman predecessors – as an aggressive militant empire with no clear precedent for determining Hitler’s political successor, the third Reich would inevitably to succumb to resistance, rebellion, and internal power struggles at some point in its limited future. While the contemporary

Nazi command did not necessarily envision their doom so imminently, the implementation of Ruin Value perhaps implies an understanding of the ephemeral nature of influence and power. Or perhaps it implies that Hitler and Speer knew that their architecture would need to change and evolve over time, and the buildings they designed would one day be abandoned in favour of structures which met the needs of the time, leaving only monuments behind. In any case, it demonstrates an attempt at foresight and lasting control.

When compared to other architectural styles, the erosion and collapse of stone causes a building to weather in a way which remains aesthetically appealing (figure 16, 17), as if nature is re-carving the stone over time. Unlike styles which Hitler was known to hate, such as the modernist style of Le Corbusier and Mies Van Der Rohe, who built the 1930 Villa Tugendhat, the slow decay of classical stone structures can appear elegant and perhaps even majestic when compared with the unceremonious shattering of glass and rusting of steel. In Harald Welzer’s writings: ‘Albert Speer’s Memories of the Future’, derived from ‘Narration, Identity and Historical Consciousness’, edited by Jurgen Straub, we can understand that when Speer was commissioned to restyle the Zeppelinfeld – the famous grounds for party rally speeches – a relatively new tram station was to be demolished to clear space for the field. Welzer writes: ‘When Speer passed by the wrecked reinforced concrete construction, out of which the iron components protruded and had already begun to rust, he shuddered at the thought that the buildings he had designed for the new Reich would at some point in history also be in such a wretched condition’ (Welzer, 2005). Welzer further writes that Speer’s Theory of Ruin Value was ‘nothing other than an aesthetic calculation of decay’ which entails designing with materials and structures which have a well-understood progression of decay, such that in a thousand years, they would resemble Roman ruins (Welzer, 2005). In this sense, these buildings would, in their life, serve as functional nerve centres of the Nazi government and a propagandistic testament to their values. By that same token, in their decay, they would stand as beautiful monuments of historical significance. By virtue of the sheer volume of hard-wearing stone, such

The analysis of the findings of this essay are divided in accordance with its initial aims: to evaluate the proliferation, effectiveness, and lasting impact on our understanding of architecture as a tool to control the direction of a population’s thinking. The proliferation of Nazi architectural propaganda can be considered nothing short of absolute failure, owed entirely to the outcome of the Second World War. As the saying goes, ‘History is Written by the Victors’, and so, too, do the victors decide what remains standing when the dust has settled. As such, virtually all Nazi-built architecture was destroyed by the Allies post-war. Even the Reichstag – the German Parliament - a building which is not of Nazi origin, has been modified with its dome reconstructed in glass as a symbol of the transparency of today’s German government – a direct rejection of Nazi thought in all its forms.

The effectiveness of architecture as propaganda under the Third Reich, however, is not so easily dismissed. A large extent of the popularity of nationalism is the perception that the problems found in the world are the result of changes which defy conservative thinking, such as immigration, globalisation, and more liberal policies. The architecture of Nazi Germany was a statement and a promise hewn in stone – the promise that the problems of a modernising world can be remedied with a return to tradition. Contemporary accounts which show packed rallies, women fawning over Hitler, proud men in uniforms, copies of Mein Kampf gifted to every married couple, and portraits of Hitler in every home are more than exaggerated propaganda (Speer, 1970). They tell a stark tale of the utter grip the Nazis had on the thoughts and perceptions of the German people. Much of this control, this essay argues, is the result of the built environment which the Nazis inhabited, as well as the world they planned to build (Amado, Arevalo, Escoda, & Berkin).

The final aspect: the lasting impact on our understanding of architecture as a tool to control the direction of a population’s thinking, is a more complex answer. Around the world, governments are still housed in buildings, and all buildings have a style. Therefore, one can analyse these styles and infer traits which are valued by their occupants. Two contrasting examples of this are the UK Houses of Parliament, and the Scottish Parliament. Where the former looms somewhat ominously, and is impenetrable to the naked eye, with a chamber divided into halves so as to indicate the divided views of the two main parties, the latter is circular in layout with vast glazed elements to promote the concepts of transparency and equality. Of course, the latter was built some 170 years after the former (The Editors of the Encyclopaedia Britannica , 2023), and needs change with time. Their design reflects the values of their designer and in this sense, the lasting impact of architecture as a means to reflect political ideologies has been innately successful, if wholly unoriginal to the Nazis.

To conclude, Nazi architecture reflects a strong infatuation with perceived past glories, and Hitler’s hatred and resistance to a fledgling modernist movement in the art and architecture communities, and the wider world. As tools of propaganda, this essay argues that the works of the 1936 Olympiastadion and the unbuilt Volkshalle and Triumphal Arch of Germania create a strong metaphor for imperial grandeur and prosperity, and their materiality, form, and tectonics are symbolic of strength and resilience in the face of the uncertain economic and political turmoil to which the Nazis owe their rise. We may infer that their designs, drawing from classical mythology, sculpture, and form, are intended as successors to a lineage of strong and prosperous empires in the European continent which date back as far as the Ancient Greeks. Yet, while these ideas may have been impactful in their own time, the architectural mark left by the Nazis has all but been erased from the Earth. We can conclude, therefore, that if the purpose of propaganda is to passively transmit an idea, then Nazi architectural propaganda can be safely declared as an absolute failure.

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