Berlin Brandenburg Airport (BER) was supposed to be a gleaming gateway to the capital – a symbol of 21st-century German precision and efficiency. Instead, it turned into a decade-long farce so surreal that even Kafka might have raised an eyebrow. What Berlin ended up with is not so much an airport as a €7 billion game of spot-the-blunder. So, why did Berlin Brandenburg Airport turn into chaos?
Originally slated to open in 2011, BER finally limped into service nine years late in October 2020 – during a global pandemic, no less. The grand opening? A socially distanced ribbon cutting and a few awkward smiles behind masks. At that point, the only thing flying high was the cost.
And even now, in full operation, the place is a spectacle of errors.
Designed by committee, reviewed by nobody
The airport’s problems began long before the doors opened. Fire suppression systems were installed incorrectly (and in reverse), escalators didn’t reach the right floors, and some 90,000 doors were wrongly labelled. The project saw six CEOs come and go, each seemingly more baffled than the last.
Aviation journalist Andreas Spaeth called it “the most embarrassing infrastructure project Germany has ever seen”. It’s hard to disagree.
Even after a decade of delays, the finished airport still doesn’t feel finished. Walk through it today, and the evidence is everywhere.
Cramped, confusing, and questionably designed
Security screening is crammed into what feels like the most constricted corner of the terminal – a claustrophobic space where awkwardly placed pillars block sightlines and hinder movement. It radiates strong “we forgot to plan this bit” energy. Those same pillars appear randomly throughout the departure hall, as if positioned by someone wearing a blindfold, telling the tale of a building whose interior no longer aligns with its original blueprint.
As for the security itself, the delays in opening the airport were so long that the once state-of-the-art scanners had already been surpassed by newer models that don’t require laptops or liquids to be removed. The high-tech system was largely outdated before it even switched on.
Then there are the moving walkways. They do exist – tucked away like some sort of elite status perk, hidden behind structural walls. Most passengers just trudge the length of the terminal unaided, failing to notice the empty belts whirr quietly behind the scenes.
And the lounges? Tempelhof Lounge (used by BA & Air France), Tegel Lounge, and Lufthansa Lounge, are at the farthest ends of the terminal’s piers. They’re so far from the centre that the airport has resorted to operating golf buggies to ferry passengers back and forth. Whether this was an accessibility solution or a cynical fitness test for premium travellers, we may never know.
Billions later, still underwhelming
The final cost came in at over €7 billion – a cool €5 billion more than planned. For comparison, Heathrow Terminal 5 cost less and has three times the wow factor.
Berliners, ever dry-witted, have taken to calling it “the ghost airport” – partly because it sat fully built but unused for years, and partly because even now it never quite feels alive. It’s functional, sure. But you’re never far from a reminder that something went very wrong here.
John Lichfield, the Berlin-based journalist, nailed it: “Berlin’s airport is less a transport hub, more a cautionary tale.” And the caution is clear – even the most competent countries can create a monument to bureaucracy and over-engineering when ego and oversight go unchecked.
In the end, Berlin Brandenburg Airport kind of works – but it’s tamed chaos. It’s hard to shake the feeling that for all the fanfare, delays, and disasters, Berlin built itself an airport that no one particularly loves… and no one’s in a hurry to copy. What a shame.
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