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How is it that walls, borders, boundaries-and their material and symbolic architectures of division and exclusion-engender their very opposite? This edited volume explores the crossings, permeations, and constructions of cultural and political borders between peoples and territories, examining how walls, borders, and boundaries signify both interdependence and contact within sites of conflict and separation. Topics addressed range from the geopolitics of Europe's historical and contemporary city walls to conceptual reflections on the intersection of human rights and separating walls, the memory politics generated in historically disputed border areas, theatrical explorations of border crossings, and the mapping of boundaries within migrant communities.

Four locations frame The New Berlin: the Topography of Terror, the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, the Jewish Museum, and Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp Memorial and Museum. Through field notes, interviews, archival texts, personal narratives, public art, maps, images, and other sources, Karen Till describes how these places and spaces exemplify the contradictions and tensions of social memory and national identity.

Till presents personal vignettes about conducting follow-up geographical research in Berlin, Germany. Through the vignettes, she explains how when geographers return from the field and share their writings with research consultants, they are forced to challenge previously held assumptions and to negotiate new research relationships. Facing their unease in such settings may be difficult, but it may also lead to new insights and more empathetic geographies and histories.

Debates about the meanings of place often emerge when unsettled pasts resurface unexpectedly in ways that dislocate present-day land-uses. Such was the case for the IGU 2011 Regional Meeting in Chile, which was held in Santiago's Military Academy. When considering the geographical scholarship about place and memory, the debates resulting from the conference should not be surprising. Geographers have long examined the controversial processes of social memory and forgetting at places marked by state-perpetrated violence and have noted the unpredictability of group memory due to the translocal nature of how places are connected to peoples and pasts through socio-political networks, cultural and economic connections, and personal and shared emotional geographies. To understand the complexities of ethical relationships we have with places marked by violence, we look to another example, the Memorial and Museum Camp Westerbork in the Netherlands. The past is never 'set in stone' or stable in present-day landscapes. Just as the narratives associated with remembering and forgetting the past may change through time, so too do the spatial contexts of memory. When space-times shift unexpectedly, new social discussions about the significance of the past in the present may emerge. With both examples in mind, we conclude by making a case for the creation of \"responsible geographies of memory\". We argue that it is our professional responsibility as geographers and our obligation as global citizens to: 1) acknowledge that landscapes often function as places of critical testimony for survivors; 2) problematize singular claims to the authenticity of place made through universal narratives and seemingly stable material landscapes; 3) create safe spaces of listening, wherein stories about place can be articulated and acknowledged by various stakeholders, while recognizing the moral complexities in representing violence through textual, visual and embodied means; and 4) recognize the progressive potential of places as cosmopolitan spaces of encounter and learning. By treating places marked by difficult pasts as cosmopolitan, hosts and visitors are invited to engage critically with the unfolding processes of memory politics, and adopt respectful approaches toward justice that includes caring for places and peoples in the past and present. Debatten über die Bedeutung von Orten der Erinnerung entstehen oftmals, wenn eine nicht aufgearbeitete Vergangenheit die gegenwärtige Nutzung dieser Orte in unerwarteter Weise in Frage stellt. Genau dies war der Fall, als im Jahr 2001 das IGU Regional Meeting in Chile in Santiagos Militärakademie ausgerichtet wurde. Ein Blick in die einschlägige geographische Literatur über Erinnerungsorte lässt die aus dieser Konferenz sich ergebende Debatte kaum überraschend erscheinen. Die kontroversen Prozesse kollektiven Gedenkens und Vergessens an Orten, die durch staatlich verübte Gewaltverbrechen gekennzeichnet sind, gelten seit langem als Gegenstand geographischer Forschung. Die Erkenntnisse belegen, dass kollektives Gedenken angesichts des translokalen Charakters, wie Orte mit Menschen und ihrer Vergangenheiten durch sozio-politische Netzwerke, kulturell und ökonomische Verbindungen sowie persönliche und geteilte Geographien der Emotion verknüpft sind, letztlich unvorhersehbar bleibt. Um die Komplexität unserer ethischen Beziehungen zu von Gewalt geprägten Orten zu verstehen, betrachten wir ein weiteres Beispiel – die „Gedenkstätte und Museum Lager Westerbork“ in den Niederlanden. Vergangenheit ist nie \"in Stein gemeißelt\" oder gleichbleibend in der gegenwärtigen Landschaft. Ebenso wie sich die mit Gedenken und Vergessen verbundenen Geschichten im Laufe der Zeit verändern können, gilt dies auch für räumliche Kontexte der Erinnerung. Kommt es zu unerwarteten Verschiebungen dieses raum-zeitlichen Gefüges, können daraus neue soziale Diskussionen über die Bedeutung der Vergangenheit für die Gegenwart erwachsen. Auf der Grundlage beider Fallbeispiele plädieren wir in der Schlussfolgerung für die Entwicklung „verantwortungsbewusster Geographien der Erinnerung“. Wir sind der Auffassung, dass es sowohl unserer professionellen Verantwortung als Geographen, als auch unserer Pflicht als Weltbürger entspricht: 1) anzuerkennen, dass Landschaften oftmals bedeutsame Zeugnisse für Überlebende darstellen; 2) einseitige Ansprüche auf Authentizität von Orten zu hinterfragen, die sich aus universalen Narrativen und vermeintlich beständigen materiellen Landschaften ergeben; 3) sichere Räume des Zuhörens zu schaffen, in denen unterschiedliche Interessengruppen ihre jeweiligen Erzählungen artikulieren und anerkennen sowie die moralische Komplexitäten der Gewalt textlich, visuell und verkörpert vermittelt werden können, und 4) das zunehmende Potential von Orten der Erinnerung als kosmopolitische Räume der Begegnung und des Lernens zu erkennen. Eine kosmopolitische Sicht auf historisch belastete Orte lädt Veranstalter und Besucher dazu ein, sich mit den Prozessen von Erinnerungspolitiken kritisch auseinanderzusetzen und eine respektvolle Haltung gegenüber einer solchen Gerechtigkeit einzunehmen, die (Für-)Sorge für Erinnerungsorte wie auch Menschen in Vergangenheit und Gegenwart einschließt.

The contributors to this volume-distinguished scholars from geography, art history, philosophy, anthropology, and American and English literature-investigate the ways in which place is embedded in everyday experience, its crucial role in the formation of group and individual identity, and its ability to reflect and reinforce power relations. Contributors: Anne Buttimer, Edward S. Casey, Denis Cosgrove, Tim Cresswell, Michael Curry, Dydia DeLyser, James S. Duncan, Nancy G. Duncan, J. Nicholas Entrikin, William Howarth, John Paul Jones III, David Ley, David Lowenthal, Karal Ann Marling, Patrick McGreevy, Kenneth R. Olwig, Marijane Osborn, Gillian R. Overing, Edward Relph, Miles Richardson, Robert D. Sack, Jonathan M. Smith, Yi-Fu Tuan, April R. Veness, Wilbur Zelinsky._x000B_

A young woman wearing a pink formal gown walks through a recreated bedroom. Candles and spotlights illuminate her figure as she steps atop a bed and begins jumping on a mattress. Rather than speak lines, her performance—part of a collective interpretation of Heinrich Müller’sPrometheustitledProject Prometeo: Acts I & II—is an embodied one.¹ Her body is framed by her live-time performance as projected upon one of two very large screens (more than three-stories high); on the other screen we see historical and contemporary images and listen to sound recordings of the neighborhood that once existed upon

Of the hundreds of articles I read about the Holocaust Memorial debates, the most memorable was Rudolf Kraft’s 1992 depiction inDie Zeitof a memory landscape in the (future) new capital city. Kraft begins his article, “In trennendem Gedenken,” with a guided tour: It is the year 2001. The German capital city has in the interim also become the seat of the government. Our tourist bus turns from the Street of Tolerance, formerly Wilhelmstraße and later Grotewohlstraße, onto Leipziger Straße, squeezes through the narrow passage of Potsdamer Platz under the Mercedes Benz Star that sits atop a massive skyscraper,

In the center of Berlin is a wooden fence. It was erected to protect the 4.2-acre construction lot destined to become the central Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.Plastered on the most-trafficked corner of this fence is an ever-changing montage of posters, political graffiti, and enlarged newspaper articles that either support or oppose the memorial. This fence is a temporary structure in the landscape that marks long-standing contested social identities. Large posters put up by the citizen group responsible for the memorial announce, “Here is the place!”¹ On one, a familiar historical photo depicts a bedraggled elderly man wearing

One day, walking along Unter den Linden in the vicinity of the Museum Island, I picked up a flyer. It offered me what seemed to be an obvious choice: “How should the Lustgarten look?” it asked. “Like this?” (under which was a sketch for a city-approved redesign of a concrete garden). “Or would it be better like this?” (It showed a nineteenthcentury photograph of a lush and stately garden.) On the back of the flyer, I could sign my name and send in a petition to Berlin’s cultural affairs senator (at the time Peter Streider) to oppose the construction of