It is fitting that on the day that the final remnant of the Palast der Republik, the former capital building of communist East Germany, was scheduled to be cleared, a hydrolic shovel broke down, thereby forcing the foreman to push back the demolition from Wednesday to Friday.

It is not the first form of delay and postponement, second-guessing and backtracking encountered by this project. Ever since its 1989 reunification, the city of Berlin has been involved in one form or another with the clearing of the old East Berlin landmark -- most recently as a prelude to the reconstruction of the Prussian-era Berlin City Palace that once stood on the site and had been itself demolished to make way for the communist building.

Weighed-down as it is by the political symbolism and historical significance of its real estate, the plans have always seemed designed to stir up controversy in the German capital. This week, the plans should move ahead two full steps: not only will the final concrete pillar of the Palast be removed, but an international jury will select an official architectural design for the replica of the Berlin City Palace that will take its place.

Many residents of the former East Berlin have fond memories of the Palast der Republik and have been reluctant to see it go. Bearing a distinctive bronze-glass façade, the building was opened in 1976 to wide fanfare, and was designed to serve both the East German Communist Party -- as a conference hall and parliament -- as well as the common people. The Palast served as one of the few populist recreational gathering places for city residents: among its public amenities were a bowling alley, an art gallery, and concert halls.

Shortly after Germany's reunification, the building was shuttered -- it didn't pass West Berlin building codes -- but opposing interest groups quickly put the building at the center of a heated historical and aesthetic debate. Some argued that leaving the Palast in the center of Berlin would be an affront to the victims of Communism; others said that demolishing it was an insult to the experiences of the majority of East Berliners without criminal backgrounds. Many argued that, even empty, it served as a reminder that not every aspect of life in the former East was unremittingly treacherous.

The question of whether to demolish the building was closely tied to a debate over what ought to replace it. Proponents of a reconstructed Berlin Palace -- most prominently, Willhelm von Boddien, a Hamburg entrepreneur who founding a national lobbying group in support of recreating the baroque Palace -- argue that only the old stylings of the Prussian monarch can heal the architectural and historical wounds at the center of the city. Many Berliners argued that the palace would be too expense, too nostalgic and, without a residing royal family, wouldn't serve any purpose.

The German parliament, the Bundestag, eventually decided to provide money to bring down the Palast and erect a replica of the Palace. As the Communist building has been demolished piece by piece over the course of two years, opening a hole in one of Berlin's central cityscapes, the debates over Berlin's communist legacy have reduced in intensity. But as the jury appointed to select a final design for the Prussian Palace prepares to announce a winner on Friday afternoon, the arguments over the replica building have broken into the open with renewed fervor.

There are still concerns that there won't be enough money to fund the rebuilding project: the federal government has committed over €500 million, with the understanding that von Boddien's group would raise the remainder through private donations -- a calculation that has thus far proven too optimistic, as fundraising has lagged. Architects and art historians have also questioned whether there are enough specialist workers in Germany to recreate all the hand-chiselled baroque ornaments that adorned the palace within a reasonable amount of time.

And academics and ethnographers have wondered what sort of curatorial concept, if any, stands behind the government's plan to use the newly reconstructed palace to house a proposed "Humboldt Forum" for non-European art.

Most central of all are still strict aesthetic concerns over expending so much time and effort to reconstruct a building from an era long past. The very architects chosen to serve on the jury have recently criticized the competition guidelines for being too strict and politically motivated. As if to illustrate their point, Wolfgang Tiefensee, the federal cabinet minister overseeing the project, subsequently criticized those jury members for publicly airing criticisms of the project, suggesting they not participate if they harbored fundamental differences.

One way or another, the final remnant of the communist Palast will be removed in the coming days. And on Friday, the German public will receive a better idea of what the Palace that will take its place will look like. And if both of these processes are accompanied by grumbling and second-guessing, that too will be fitting: Berlin has never been a place where the people or their politicians have been temperamentally disposed to making decisions lightly.