Introduction

In the text, I mention the somewhat troubling dynamics of the invisible and visible. I wish the invisible to become visible and try to contribute to the process by exposing structures, histories, and connections, revealing what seemed to have been hidden, and putting some light on the blind spots. I draw bridges between distanced dots through the force of art and wait until it affects my social environment. Basically, I am criticizing, but in quite a traditional framework. Traditional criticism, when applied to societal structures and power dynamics, typically involves an analysis based on established norms, historical precedents, and classical theoretical frameworks. So, I throw dirt around. While this form of criticism can provide valuable insights into the functioning and historical development of institutions, it has some clear limitations. Well, it simply does not work (anymore), it does not have much effect. I have enjoyed the process of uncovering underlying elements, and identifying what is present and what is missing in a given context. The crucial aspect, however, lies in how one approaches and interprets these underlying elements. Even if I managed and threw dirt in the right direction, even if I rendered it all visible, still, it would not cover the whole area. Traditional methods of exposure, by themselves, do not inherently lead to change. Art is all around us, and its abundance makes it highly visible. However, it is important to move beyond viewing art solely as representation, aesthetics, or a mere object or commodity. Throughout the exhibition period and the events, we have organized and facilitated that accompanied and commented on the exhibition, I could observe a collective effort that encourages us to consider art as a transformative force, the force that reads events not singularly but as part of a bigger process. Digging dirt in history for me still holds importance and still could serve as a good starting point, a starting point to dig further, but this time in the future, digging until at least some of the many ends of that process are visible.

Public Invisibility

As a kid, my fascination with mythology led me to discover the Cloak of invisibility (Tarnkappe), a mythical object that enables its wearer to make themselves temporarily invisible. I met this kind of object in myths and one of the figures using and possessing such an object was Siegfrid from The Song of the Nibelungs. However, despite my fascination with this superpower, I was terrified of being surrounded by invisible powers, hidden forces beyond my control, capable of manipulating or influencing my life in ways I could not comprehend.

In 2022 I was visiting a former PLUS supermarket building in Gröpelingen, Bremen with my colleagues, where we wanted to organize an exhibition. By that time, I was still very new to Bremen and was not familiar with its streets and neighborhoods. The space we visited was located on Gröpelinger Heerstrasse, which was yet another random name to me. Soon after it came to my mind that I also lived close to a Heerstrasse, namely Waller Heerstrasse. Looking at a map, I was struck by the amount of “Heerstrasses” in Bremen. There are 28 streets carrying the same name. ‘Das Heer’ in German means army, so ‘die Heerstasse’ is a military road. A military road is constructed by a nation's armed forces and is typically under their authority for accessibility, supervision, and upkeep. I was aware of the inherent limitation posed by relying solely on cartographic observation. It seemed insufficient in facilitating a comprehensive cognitive and emotive grasp of the intricate nuances characterizing these streets. Their spatial dynamics, socio-cultural aspects and emotional connections were absent without visiting, walking and exploring these roads on my own. So, I started visiting these streets, having daily walks there and soon it developed into a habit. I would start my strolls from Waller Heerstrasse, stop for a break at “Aydin Brot” bakery at the end of Gröpelinger Heerstrasse, make a turn to the left on Oslebshauser Heerstrasse to visit the park with three pond-like lakes, observe the architecture of Grambker Kirche on Grambker Heerstrasse, take a minute to follow the flow of the river Lesum at the intersection of Burger and Bremer Heerstrasse, grab a drink from REWE on Bremerhavener Heerstrasse and end the walk where also the city of Bremen ends and Lower Saxony starts. For me, walking can represent an inherently reflexive, automatic process, devoid of conscious deliberation, enabling my body to assume the role of an attentive observer, thus effectuating a transformation into a somatic urban wanderer. While walking, solitude becomes an impossibility, given the multitude of surroundings enveloping us and lying within our field of vision. The city, woven into our bodies, becomes a living archive of encounters, recollections, and the rhythmic movements of others. But what happens when those “others” are troops? And their “walking” is marching? 

While walking Bremen's military roads, there were many questions popping up in my head, why would a city have 28 military roads? Why would they still carry and normalize the name “military” in the city’s everyday life? How can we walk streets that were intentionally built for troops and other military units? Does our walking on these streets become marching? 

Unfolding the story of Bremen’s military roads appeared to be more challenging than I could have imagined. Why is the history of these streets so hidden? And what is hidden in these streets? It was clear to me that I was not dealing with a monument, or a memorial, I was dealing with something without a physical face, something that was buried and invisible, but still very present. 

I open “Bremer Lexikon”[1] to look up the word “Heerstrasse.” The book tells me to return to “Chaussee” and I find the following: “The arterial roads, e.g., to Schwachhausen or Walle, were called "Chaussee" in the old Bremen and were only renamed "Heerstrasse" in 1914 when the language was cleaned up for purely patriotic reasons.” Records that I found in the State Archive Bremen declare that the conversion of the designation "Chaussee" into "Heerstrasse" officially happened in 1916 when Senator Lürmann requested Building Police Office that the term "Chaussee" must be changed everywhere to "Heerstrasse". Indeed, it is crucial to know when exactly the conversion happened, as the timeline provides factual context to the event, but what is even more relevant is to examine and understand what “purely patriotic reason” is. But at first, maybe, it makes more sense to say a word or two about the emergence of “Chaussees” in Bremen and what historical events were interwoven with that.

 The French Wars had a profound impact on the economy of the north German coastal region in the pre-Napoleon era. Ongoing warfare and French conquests across Europe led foreign banks and merchants to relocate to the neutral Hanseatic cities. Throughout the 18th century, the Hanseatic city-states reaped substantial benefits from the growth of neutral tonnage during times of war. The 1790s marked a remarkable surge in trade and shipping volume, resulting in increased profits. Bremen emerged as a notable beneficiary during this period, experiencing significant growth due to its involvement in the trade of grains and colonial goods, such as cotton and tobacco imported from the United States.[2]

In 1803, as a result of the Treaty of Lunéville, Bremen came under French influence and became a part of the French client state called the Kingdom of Westphalia. In 1811 Bremen was directly incorporated into the French Empire as part of the Bouches-du-Weser département. The French administration implemented significant changes in governance, legal systems, and infrastructure development during this time.

Napoleon understood the crucial role of a well-established network of highways in establishing dominance over an empire, both in terms of economic and military aspects. Recognizing the significance of Bremen's abundance of colonial goods, which held immense importance for France, he realized the necessity of efficient trunk roads that would ensure swift exchange of goods within his empire. Additionally, these new roads would also facilitate the rapid transportation of his troops. Consequently, in 1811, a decision was made to expand the existing "Route Impérial No. 3" and create the "Chaussée Napoleon." This ambitious project aimed to extend the existing route from Paris to the Rhine River, providing a direct and uninterrupted connection all the way to Hamburg. Crucially, this route passed through the city of Bremen, solidifying its importance in the transportation network, and reinforcing its role in the empire. In 1812, another large-scale project, called “Kattenturmer Chaussee” started. Soon after, following the "Battle of the Nations" in Leipzig, which took place in October 1813, Bremen saw an end to the "French period". After a seven-year occupation, the departing occupiers left behind an unfinished causeway. Despite post-war conditions, the Bremen notables were determined not to abandon the progress made during the Napoleonic Road construction, so they decided to complete the Chaussees. The local engineers and stone setters continued their work, building upon the knowledge they acquired under French supervision. By 1814, the route through the state of Bremen was finally completed. 

With great promptness, Bremen made the decision to construct additional chaussee roads. “Directly following the conclusion of the Napoleonic Wars, Hanseatics celebrated their liberation from the French by commemorating such important milestones as the Battle of Leipzig, the return of the Hanseatic Legion, and the conclusion of the Peace of Paris in public memorial ceremonies.”[3] – I wonder if the further construction of these roads was seen as such a memorial for Bremen’s population, while the main interest for the decision came from the upper-class estate owners of Schwachhausen with their splendid country estates. Even though, the sense of building the same type of roads by French rulers and residents of Bremen might seem divergent, they still share the same core reasonings to serve the defense and security needs of a region, focusing on efficiency, convenience and catering to economic development. The construction of such roads often considers economic factors and the potential for stimulating trade and commerce, which for Bremen was even of larger importance. 

For a century, the streets introduced by Napoleon in Bremen were referred to as 'Chaussee.' However, in 1915, during World War I, German soldiers engaged in trench warfare against their long-standing French adversaries on the Western Front. Eduard Friedrich Georg Michaelsen, a Bremen merchant and Spanish consul residing on Schwachhauser Chaussee, proposed renaming it as "Hindenburgallee" in honor of the renowned Field Marshal General, celebrated for his victories on the Eastern Front[4]. Nevertheless, the Bürgerschaft and the Senate declined this suggestion, opting for a more sweeping change. Eventually, on January 18, 1916, twenty "Chaussee"[5] streets across both urban and rural areas of Bremen were renamed as "Heerstraßen", the document was signed by senator Theodor Lürman

Nevertheless, despite the obvious name, Bremen's military roads are well concealed among the populace, they are invisible, extinguished and very present. How so? 

Back to the topic of “purely patriotic reason” and to German language purism. During the process of nation-building in the 19th century, various European nations promoted linguistic nationalism. In the case of the German Empire, this sentiment of "disliking foreign words" evolved into a sentiment of "disliking foreign people," and vice versa. The Allgemeine Deutsche Sprachverein (General German Language Association (ADSV)) was an association that was founded in 1885. ADSV had several goals, but their main occupation was to promote the purification of the German language from unnecessary foreign words, to foster the protection and revival of the authentic nature and unique essence of the German language and through these to strengthen the general nationalist consciousness and patriotism in the German people. Language purists saw the First World War as a chance to eliminate the so called “long-standing negative influence” of foreign elements in the German language. 

Abandoning the French word and using a German name instead, which clearly indicates to the fact that the country is at war, was of clear propagandistic nature and served to evoke patriotic feelings among Bremen’s population. The change of street names was a form of something I refer to as “silent propaganda” that operated on a local level, subtly influencing public perception, and reinforcing the war narrative. The renaming of streets subtly conveyed the idea that the military and civilian spheres were interconnected, fostering a sense of shared responsibility for the nation's cause. Besides, I believe that “civilians’ indirect exposure to war fatalities can trigger psychological processes that increase identification with their nation and ultimately strengthen support for nationalistic parties.”[7] I argue that during Weimar Republic the renamed military roads became WW1 commemorative practices. And exactly on similar practices nationalistic parties tend to capitalize. The right wing uses post war environments for their populistic narrative, commodifies confused conditions of identities and translates them into electoral support, by making patriotism-based promises. 

Demilitarization of Germany, which failed with the Versailles Treaty, got finalized at the Potsdam Conference after WW2. While reading protocols from the postwar conferences, I found this part particularly noteworthy, “all other military and semi-military organizations, together with all clubs and associations which serve to keep alive the military tradition in Germany, shall be completely and finally abolished in such manner as permanently to prevent the revival or reorganization of German militarism and Nazism.”[8] It has long been evident that the denazification process in Germany is fundamentally contested, existing more as a mythological construct than as a substantiated historical reality. A parallel skepticism applies to the demilitarization process, wherein deliberate or inadvertent perpetuation of military symbolism in daily life, such as in the form of military-named streets, persists. Andrew Bickford writes:  "If militarization is about both producing weapons and shaping and creating a populace that either embraces, or at least goes along with, positive ideas and values associated with war and killing, then simply destroying weapons after the fact is not enough to effectively demilitarize a society."[9] Demilitarization entails more than simply disposing of weapons; it requires a fundamental shift in perspective. Simply transforming weapons into tools does not solve the underlying problem. The crux is to dismantle the mental frameworks and societal structures that support a violent culture. It is not just about the physical objects; it is about the deeply ingrained attitudes and beliefs that frame the world in terms of conflict and aggression.

On 15th March of 1943, during WW2 there was an idea of renaming Schwachhauser Heerstrasse. The proposal was to change the name to “Strasse der 6. Armee” (street of the 6th army), to celebrate a German Wehrmacht army unit known for their war crimes, such as Bila Tserkva Massacre. Reading this document in the Bremen city archive did not surprise me. The lack of surprise indicates a consistent pattern. Similarly, the persistence of streets with names associated with militarization demonstrates the enduring nature of such narratives.

Why are the streets still called “Heerstrasse”? Why were the streets never renamed?

I have spent quite some time in Bremen’s city archive, researching, or better said, searching for some information about those somewhat mysterious streets and their names. I have read  papers and scripts I never wanted to read. I got lost in the piles of folders full of documents numerous times, which led me to ask lots of questions about the nature of such archives, how one-sided and single-dimensional they are, without any counter action in their near environment. Often, I was surrounded by people who knew what they were working on and how one could use and interact with the archive. Next to them I felt like an amateur, or a person, who is simply obsessed with something and is desperately looking for answers (or even more questions). It was a month after my first ever visit to the city archive when I read Iman Mersal’s “Archives & Crimes”. One specific paragraph both helped and scared me, “’amateurs’, let’s call them: those who obsess over a particular crime, who follow everything to do with it and who, in all seriousness, send letters detailing their conclusions to the investigating team. Every now and then, an amateur detective will get so involved in a crime that they turn themselves in to the police as the criminal. Defeated by detection, their only remaining avenue to a solution of the impossible riddle is to offer themselves up in the offender’s place.”[10]

Siegfried, the main character of the Nibelung saga, eventually misuses the power of his invisibility cap/cloak and commits a series of crimes. “These exploits do not reduce Siegfried's radiant reputation as the popular symbol of the youthful national hero; on the contrary, the invisibility provided by the magic cap is one of the most important attributes in according him the privileges of a hero.”[11] The story provokes thought about the dangers of glorifying invisibility-enabled actions without considering their ethical implications within the mythos of heroism. The elusive nature of invisibility, interwoven into the fabric of collective memory, lies beyond the heroic façade or popular acclaim. It invites us to reflect on what remains hidden, urging us to question the stories that have faded into obscurity.

Bubu Mosiashvili (b. 1997, in Tbilisi, Georgia), is an interdisciplinary artist whose work explores blind spots of histories. He focuses on hidden and discarded memories and facts that serve as the “behind the scenes” structure for dominant narratives. Mosiashvili holds a bachelor’s degree in arts from Tbilisi State Academy of Arts in 2019 and currently pursues a diploma in fine arts at the University of Arts Bremen, in the class of Natascha Sadr Haghighian. Since 2019 he was involved in organizing a Tbilisi based multidisciplinary project space “MAUDI”, and since 2023 he runs and organizes “Library for Imaged Futures”, an artist-run library in Bremen.

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List of sources:

[1] Bremer Lexikon – Ein Schlüssel zu Bremen, Werner Kloos, 1977,  p. 66. 

[2] Paying for War: Experiences of Napoleonic Rule in the Hanseatic Cities - Katherine Aaslestad, Central European History, Vol. 39, No. 4 (Dec., 2006), pp. 641-675.

[3] Paying for War: Experiences of Napoleonic Rule in the Hanseatic Cities - Katherine Aaslestad, Central European History , Dec., 2006, Vol. 39, No. 4 (Dec., 2006), pp. 641-675.

[4] https://digitales-heimatmuseum.de/kattenturmer-chaussee-und-napoleon/

[5] The main reason for the disparity in the number of Heerstrasses observed historically and contemporaneously is Bremen's evolving cartography. Bremen, like many other Imperial Cities, has expanded its territory to include adjacent villages in addition to its core urban precincts over the course of its history. Following World War II, the municipality of Bremen's geographical administrative division was reorganized, and some streets were split into two separate streets with different names.

[6] Those Who Are Dead Are Not Ever Gone: On the Maintenance of Supremacy, the Ethnological Museum and the Intricacies of the Humboldt Forum, Bonaventure Soh Bejeng Ndikung, 2018, p. 42.

[7] American Political Science Review (2023), War and Nationalism: How WW1 Battle Deaths Fueled Civilians’ Support for the Nazi Party, p.1

[8] No. 1383 Protocol of the Proceedings of the Berlin Conference, https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1945Berlinv02/d1383

[9] Andrew Bickford - Demilitarization: Unraveling the Structures of Violence,  "Demilitarization in the Contemporary World", edited by Peter N. Stearns,  2013, p.19.

[10] Archives and Crimes by Iman Mersal, 2022, pp. 6-7.

[11] Pseudoimbecility - A Magic Cap of Invisibility - Margaret Mahler-Schoenberger, p. 149.