Werner Düttmann, Hans Christian Müller, and Georg Heinrichs stand as three of the most debated figures in Berlin's architectural history. During the 1960s and 1970s, these planners reshaped West Berlin through aggressive urban renewal projects that erased entire neighborhoods of historic buildings. Their work, particularly the massive Märkisches Viertel development, sparked intense public controversy that continues today. While critics condemned their brutalist concrete towers as soulless and antisocial, many residents appreciated the modern apartments inside. This contradiction defines their legacy as both visionaries and villains in the city's evolution.

The city's official policy of "Flächensanierung"—literally "area renovation"—became a euphemism for wholesale demolition. In Kreuzberg, the Wassertorplatz between Kottbusser Tor and Prinzenstraße station saw ornate 19th-century buildings replaced by a 17-story prefab structure housing 1,300 apartments. Locals quickly nicknamed the gray concrete monolith the "Gray Louse." Britta Schoening, a former resident interviewed by the Brücke Museum in 2021, admitted the exterior was "relatively ugly and not very inviting." Yet she praised her 60-square-meter 12th-floor apartment as "perfectly laid out" and bright, offering stunning sunset views.

The Märkisches Viertel in Reinickendorf represented their most ambitious project—a satellite city originally planned for 14,000 units that grew to 17,000. Düttmann, Müller, and Heinrichs, dubbed "the triumvirate of West Berlin housing construction," envisioned more than just dense housing. They integrated green spaces, kindergartens, schools, shops, and playgrounds into the design, which architecture historian Matthias Noell notes was far from standard practice at the time. The trio aimed to overcome the anonymity of mass housing by creating a "livable place" with varied apartment sizes and abundant natural light. More than 35 domestic and international architects contributed individual building designs under their master plan.

Despite these intentions, the project faced immediate backlash. Residents called the architecture "brutal" and "criminal," with one stating, "It completely overwhelms you." Essential community facilities remained unfinished long after the residential towers were occupied. The magazine Der Spiegel labeled the district a "model example of antisocial housing construction" in 1968. Noell argues that many problems stemmed from social factors rather than design, as the city relocated economically disadvantaged families from demolished neighborhoods into the new development. Nevertheless, the stark concrete aesthetic and isolated location fueled persistent criticism.

Düttmann responded to the intense criticism with unusual pragmatism, acknowledging "demonstrable and visible deficiencies" in the Märkisches Viertel. He believed history would judge whether his buildings were right, emphasizing that "the space between buildings where people meet" mattered most. His career showed surprising contradictions—while overseeing massive demolitions, he also supported the 1964 "Save the Stucco" campaign to preserve historic facades. Müller, who served as city building director from 1967 to 1982, underwent a dramatic transformation, becoming a champion of "careful urban renewal" through historic preservation. Together with Heinrichs, he later designed the Opera Quarter North in Charlottenburg, which included artist studios and generous green spaces.

The legacy of these architects remains deeply complex and misunderstood. Many Märkisches Viertel residents have lived there happily for decades, appreciating the light-filled apartments and diverse floor plans. Their work represents a specific post-war mindset that prioritized modernity and density over historical continuity. Today, Berlin grapples with both the social challenges in these districts and their cultural significance as architectural heritage. The story of Düttmann, Müller, and Heinrichs ultimately reveals how urban planning reflects society's values—and how those values can shift dramatically within a single generation.