Dark Tourism

A Matisse postcard from the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon that
my friend Cynthia sent me in 2007 that I still use as a bookmark.

I just finished reading Seeing Hitler's Germany: Tourism in the Third Reich by Kristin Semmens. A little over a month ago I had wondered to myself if there was tourism in Nazi Germany. A simple google search revealed that someone had written a book on the topic, so I got it from my alma mater's library. In the preface Semmens thanks both Dr. Christopher Friedrichs and cites Dr. Anne Gorsuch, both professors of history at my alma mater, which tipped me off that Semmens graduated from the same undergraduate honours programme as me. Semmens obtained her doctorate at the University of Cambridge; Seeing Hitler's Germany is her doctoral thesis.

Seeing Hitler's Germany was intriguing. It examined the Gleischschaltung of commercial tourism but also demonstrated that to a large extent German tourism organizations willingly fell into line with Nazi policies. Semmen's investigation was comprehensive in terms of the geographical regions studied, and she compared and contrasted tourism in different regions (e.g. the Black Forest vs. Berlin). One of the most interesting things I learned reading this book was the Kraft durch Freude (Strength Through Joy) programme, designed to enable Germans of lower economic classes to enjoy leisure travel. Tourism, as Semmens herself argues in her introduction, is not a trivial topic of study. Rather, the study of tourism under Hitler reveals much about the Nazis' politics, use of propaganda, and mobilization leading up to the Second World War. Tourism and travel was used to build a sense of community among Germans. International tourism, of Germans abroad and foreigners in Germany, was further used to legitimize the Nazi regime leading up to the outbreak of the war. Tourism in Germany did not cease with the outbreak of the war, but (strangely) persisted nearly to the very end; I could not imagine being a tourist in a war-torn country.

Semmens raises some interesting points in her conclusion. She writes:

After the Second World War, a kind of 'dark tourism' emerged in Germany, as the former sites of death and terror in the Third Reich became 'must see' sights on the tourist trail. Today, Dachau, Buchenwald, Sachsenhausen and other 'fatal attractions' linked to the Hitler dictatorship draw thousands of visitors each year. The . . . [2004] Lonely Planet guide to Germany, for example, lists the former concentration camp at Dachau as one of the key attractions around Munich . . . . Foreign and German travellers climb the trails to see Hitler's Tea House on the Obersalzberg in southern Bavaria; they take part in guided tours to view the location of his underground bunker in Berlin. Of course, not all German cities are equally keen to promote this dark past, as a recent trip to Nuremberg revealed. At the tourist information centre, brochures about the Reich Party Rally grounds were available only on request and at a cost.

The image of a crowd of holidaymakers -- guidebooks in hands, cameras at the ready -- descending on a site like Dachau is admittedly disturbing. Yet tourism plays a role in Germany's ongoing attempt to come to terms with its Nazi past. Today, leisure travel has become an important vehicle for understanding and working through a nation's history, not only in Germany, but also in many other countries struggling to confront their own horrific legacies. . . .

The latter paragraph resonated with me. Having studied German history, I was somewhat anxious prior to departing for Europe on my year abroad. Would I go to Poland and visit Auschwitz? What would that visit be like and how would I feel? I imagine it would be profoundly upsetting.

I haven't yet visited Poland or a concentration camp. I did, however, visit Berlin. Jacky and I went on a free walking tour that took us to many memorials, including one to the Nazi book burnings, the Neue Wache, and the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.

I found the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe (pictured above) really powerful. A few interpretations our group discussed included: how the columns and slopes created an uneasy, isolating atmosphere; the columns, which become taller towards the middle of the monument, as a metaphor for the rise of tyranny and totalitarianism in Germany under Hitler. For me, it was a solemn moment. After our visit, I was left considering the city and the country's complex, multifaceted history.

Have you ever visited a concentration camp or similarly somber place? What was it like for you? If you have not, would you visit such places? How do you feel about "dark tourism"? I am curious to know.

(Postcard depicts Henri Matisse's Jeune femme en blanc, fond rouge, 1946)