Germany’s Eternal War Against Its Own History: The Hindenburg Dam Renaming
The German island of Sylt will rename its historic Hindenburg Damm causeway by 2027, joining numerous German cities erasing the Weimar Republic president's name from public spaces.
The municipality of Sylt has resolved to rename the Hindenburg Damm in time for the structure’s centenary in 2027, according to Nius. The nine-kilometer causeway, spanning kilometers 217 to 226 through the Wadden Sea, has carried Hindenburg’s name since its opening by the Reich President himself a century ago.
The renaming represents another victory for Green Party politician Andreas Tietze, a state parliament member who has campaigned for the change since at least 2019. Tietze reportedly favored the simple designation “Sylt-Damm” and characterized Hindenburg as an inglorious historical figure unworthy of commemoration.
The causeway’s popular name has been used consistently in disaster response plans, German Rail presentations, and tourism authority communications. That will now change as moralistic impulses once again triumph over historical complexity.
Damnatio Memoriae in Modern Germany
The Sylt decision follows a pattern of what Nius describes as damnatio memoriae, the ancient Roman practice of systematically erasing all public memory of disfavored figures. Cities including Hamburg, Münster, Hannover, Lüneburg, Darmstadt, Trier, and Konstanz have already stripped Hindenburg’s name from streets and public spaces.
Most recently, the former Hindenburg Kaserne in Munster, Lower Saxony, was rechristened “Unteroffizier-Friederike-Krüger-Kaserne” on September 10, 2025. The responsible Panzer Training Brigade 9 justified the change by citing Hindenburg’s anti-democratic actions, deliberate spreading of falsehoods, increasingly authoritarian conduct as Reich President, and leading role in the National Socialist seizure of power.
A More Complex Historical Reality
Paul von Hindenburg was unquestionably a controversial figure whose legacy includes significant failures. He promoted the Dolchstoßlegende, the stabbing-in-the-back myth that claimed Germany’s military remained undefeated in World War I but was betrayed by politicians, socialists, and revolutionaries. This narrative severely undermined faith in democratic institutions.
In the Weimar Republic’s final years, Hindenburg accepted and encouraged the shift toward presidential cabinets that bypassed parliament. His most consequential decision was the reluctant appointment of Adolf Hitler as Reich Chancellor in January 1933.
Yet Hindenburg was no Nazi himself. He despised Hitler, whom he contemptuously called the “Bohemian corporal.” He repeatedly rejected Hitler as chancellor, distrusting both the man and considering the NSDAP unpredictable and dangerous.
In 1925, Hindenburg, celebrated as a war hero for his role in the Battle of Tannenberg, was elected Reich President by direct popular vote. He remains the only German head of state in the nation’s history since 1871 to be chosen directly by the people. In 1932, he won reelection with support from Social Democrats and the Center Party, running against Hitler as a bulwark against National Socialism.
The Problem with Presentist Judgment
Reducing Hindenburg exclusively to his role in facilitating Nazi power overlooks essential historical context, as Nius reports. While Hitler’s program was known in 1933, the Holocaust and the full scope of wartime atrocities could not be foreseen. Hindenburg shared certain goals with the Nazis, including anti-communism and skepticism of parliamentarism, yet simultaneously despised many aspects of the movement.
Many Germans viewed Hindenburg as a guarantor of stability and continuity with the imperial past. He projected dignity, harbored monarchist sympathies without actively pursuing restoration, and maintained an appearance of nonpartisan detachment. Initially, he exercised his office with restraint and demonstrated surprising constitutional fidelity. During the republic’s stable years, he served effectively as a representative figure.
Streets and squares bore his name, and his portrait hung in countless German households as a symbol of order and tradition. Erasing that history serves contemporary moral posturing rather than genuine historical understanding.
With information from Nius
