Notoriety and Nuremberg: How an infamous German city was re-branded into a holiday destination
Nuremberg. For most, the word conjures up two of the darkest events in German history: the Nuremberg rallies which preceded the Second World War, and the Nuremberg trials which followed it.
That gloomy image will be cemented by a powerful new feature film which opens in Australian cinemas this week. Starring adopted Aussie Russell Crowe as Hermann Wilhelm Goring, Nuremberg focuses on the groundbreaking war crimes trial which revealed the genocidal horrors of the Third Reich.
The movie shows a ruined city, devastated by Allied bombers. Its subject matter is suitably, necessarily grim. Surely, Nuremberg’s notoriety should make it one of Europe’s least appealing destinations? On the contrary, against all odds, it has become an unlikely tourist hotspot.
Visitor numbers are on the up and up. Last year, there were 3,864,500 overnight stays in Nuremberg, a 25 per cent rise over the last two years. America is the biggest foreign market, with 172,000 overnights. The Chinese market boasts the biggest rise, with a massive 48 per cent increase on last year.
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By continuing you agree to our Terms and Privacy Policy.What attracts all these sightseers? Why travel halfway around the world to visit a city which became a byword for the tyranny of the nazi regime, and which was consequently flattened by the RAF? Is it merely morbid curiosity that brings them here? Or is it something more?
Arriving at Nuremberg’s bustling Hauptbahnhof (central station), the first big surprise is the city’s skyline — a delicate silhouette of church spires and castle towers, the setting for a fairy tale.
For the US soldiers who liberated the city, this sight would seem like a miracle. On the night of January 2, 1945, more than 500 British RAF bombers dropped 6000 bombs and a million incendiary devices on Nuremberg. Its half-timbered buildings burnt like kindling.
The entire Altstadt (old town) was destroyed.
Today, you’d never know Nuremberg’s destruction was so comprehensive. A lifetime later, the medieval centre has been meticulously restored: landmark buildings have been reconstructed; entire streets of town houses have been rebuilt in near identical style.
Even the modernist additions are discreet and sympathetic, built to the same scale, in the same local stone.
This restoration is a blessing for, before the war, Nuremberg was regarded as Germany’s quintessential medieval city, a cluster of cobbled lanes lined with gingerbread houses, a scene straight out of the Brothers Grimm.
Indeed, it was because of its romantic, nostalgic appeal that the nazis made it the main stage for their bombastic rallies.
Leni Riefenstahl’s spooky propaganda film, Triumph Of The Will (filmed at the 1935 Nuremberg Rally), is a frightening, mesmeric record of those sinister extravaganzas.
Her camera follows the Fuhrer’s cavalcade along the quaint streets of Nuremberg, through crowds of ecstatic supporters, to the immense parade ground on the edge of town, transformed by Hitler’s architect, Albert Speer, into a “cathedral of light”.
It’s still an eerie sight today.
The colonnaded grandstand is still there, shorn of its nazi regalia. Some of the surrounding buildings remain. The vast, cavernous Congress Hall contains a sombre Documentation Centre, chronicling the key role this city played in the nazis’ rise and fall.
The site is currently under reconstruction, to house a more extensive exhibition, yet daily life goes on. The main arena has hosted rock concerts and motor rallies. The smart modern stadium of the city’s football team is a short walk away.
The august courthouse where the trials were held is still there. It’s now an excellent museum. The permanent display is dramatic and informative — and being in the building where it happened makes it especially affecting.
These trials established a crucial precedent, that political and military leaders who commit crimes against humanity will be held accountable for their actions, not only then but now.
These dutiful memorials are impressive and very moving, and their emotional impact is enhanced by the battered splendour of this antique city.
Nuremberg has been a creative centre ever since the Middle Ages, a tradition personified by its most illustrious resident, Albrecht Durer, Germany’s greatest Renaissance artist, who lived here from 1509 until his death in 1528.
Durer’s robust house survived the war, but it was badly damaged. Painstakingly repaired, it finally reopened as a museum in 1971, on his 500th birthday. When you step inside his old home and studio, you’re transported back 500 years, to a time when this city was a cultural crossroads.
Will it become a crossroads again? Not in the same way. The scars of the Second World War run too deep for that, and that’s probably the way it ought to be. Today it’s tourism that makes Nuremberg an international city, as travellers flock here to see the best and worst of Germany.
The worst? Well, that’s all there in the new movie — the wickedness which spawned the Nuremberg Race Laws (which created the template for the Holocaust), and fuelled those vainglorious, vindictive rallies.
And the best? For me, that’s encapsulated in Nuremberg’s Christkindlesmarkt, one of Germany’s oldest and loveliest Christmas Markets, which runs from November 28 to December 24 this year.
On the opening night, a huge crowd gathers in the ancient Hauptmarkt to see the Christkind (an angelic young woman clad all in white) appear on the balcony of the Frauenkirche, Nuremberg’s most ornate, iconic church.
It’s a magical event, which evokes the fragile innocence of childhood. However old you are, for a brief while it’ll make you feel young again.
How does Nuremberg strike a balance between these two sides? I asked its tourist board that question. “Nuremberg combines its rich medieval heritage with a responsibility to confront the dark chapters of its history,” a spokesperson told me.
“The city shows that it is possible to celebrate cultural traditions such as the Christkindlesmarkt while also maintaining places of remembrance and learning — both of which are inseparable parts of Nuremberg’s identity.”
Before I came here, I might have dismissed this statement as platitudinous. Now I see the truth of it. Visit these places of remembrance and you’ll realise they mean what they say.
Yet when you crunch those visitor numbers, you realise a lot of people won’t be visiting. Of the top 10 nations to visit Nuremberg last year, the UK was the only country that showed a decrease, down by nearly 3 per cent to 82,000 overnights, leapfrogged by Italy with a 24 per cent rise to 98,000.
Why is interest shrinking? Why are so many missing out? It’s just a hunch, but I reckon it’s because we know a good deal about the darkness (and quite right too) but not enough about the light. The new film is a timely reminder of the dark side.
Go in Advent and you’ll be enchanted by its cosy charm, what Germans call Gemütlichkeit.
Nuremberg is in cinemas from December 4
