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When Germany submitted its bid to host this year's World Cup, the organizing committee knew they had the perfect stadium for the final. It had been built on a grand scale, with 76,005 seats, striking sight lines and conveniently located a short S-bahn ride from the center of Berlin. The only problem was its history: the stadium had been constructed by Adolf Hitler for the 1936 Olympic Games. Such associations are hard to ignore. And Germany has not tried to.

Just a few steps from where the world's press will gather for the Cup final is a brand-new exhibit that documents the history of the building and the 1936 Olympics. One hall adjacent to the stadium that had been closed because the Nazi inscriptions on its walls were deemed "politically obscene" will be opened to public view for the first time since the war. "We wanted to put the history of this building — one of the most powerful works of Nazi architecture — in context," says Hans Ottomeyer, director of the German Historical Museum. "If you are not prepared to offer answers," he adds, "you will be confronted with questions."

This is a different World Cup. Previous hosts have used the tournament to burnish their country's reputation as a tourist destination, but Germany wants to use the Cup to "transmit a new image" of the nation itself. "We want to change the stereotypes of the country," Jürgen Rollmann, the tournament's coordinator in Germany and a former professional footballer, told Time. "Germans are known for being punctual and businesslike and they are not really known for having a sense of humor," he says. "We saw this as a chance to say something new." Qualities such as creativity and tolerance — "softer," "smoother" characteristics that Germans do in fact possess, another German official says — are not sufficiently appreciated elsewhere. "We are doing a kind of national rebranding," says Mike de Vries, coordinator of the Cup's "Land of Ideas" public-relations campaign. Everyone from German football legend Franz Beckenbauer to Germany's Chancellor, Angela Merkel, has taken up that refrain. "The Cup is a unique opportunity," Merkel acknowledged recently, "for Germany to present herself as a hospitable, joyful and modern nation, bursting with ideas."

As part of that rebranding, which falls under the title "Zu Gast bei Freunden"

(A Time to Make Friends), the government has sponsored art exhibits abroad, launched a public-relations campaign to celebrate German inventions and industrial "competencies" and urged Germans to be friendly hosts this summer when the guests arrive. The tourism sector has bought more than 30,000 government-distributed Hospitality Manuals with information on foreign cultures and national customs, and invited "culture guides" from other countries to teach locals customs from around the world. For the more cerebral fans, exhibits such as What is German?, which just opened at the National Museum of German Art and Culture in Nuremberg, explore the identity of the country through such themes as Longing, Homeland and Faith. "We won't have a chance like this for another 20 years," the project manager of the government-funded National Service and Friendliness Campaign organized by the German National Tourist Board, Norbert Tödter, told Time. "We want to show our guests that it's fun to visit Germany!"

Naturally, old-fashioned German virtues will be on display, too. Officials point out that the an estimated j3 billion worth of infrastructure upgrades to roads, terminals and stadiums were finished up to a year before the Cup's starting date. But being a good host for Germans this year may be as important as winning; the German national team is considered one of its weakest for generations. (Mind you, critics said that in 2002, too — and Germany reached the final.) The twin desires of wanting to look good before the world while performing well on the pitch have plunged Germans into a rare "collective state of positive emergency," says Stephan Grünewald, managing partner at the Cologne-based rheingold Institute for Qualitative Market and Media Research and author of the psychological sketch Germany on the Couch. The newspaper Die Zeit compared fans' current, pre-Cup, febrile mood to lovers who had become too attached to their partners. "You have to avoid having too high expectations," the editors counseled. "You must be able to let go."

As with any global event, plenty could go wrong. The biggest worry is that neo-Nazis will cause trouble. "You cannot exclude [the chance] that they are going to use this event to attract worldwide attention," August Hanning, an Interior Ministry official in charge of security for the games told reporters recently. The hard right National Democratic Party (npd) has scheduled several rallies to coincide with the tournament, and officials say they are particularly worried about "four or five" preliminary-round matches, including one involving the Iranian squad where rightists are expected to demonstrate in support of the anti-Semitic posturing of Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Last month, Uwe-Karsten Heye, a former government spokesman and head of an antiracist organization, warned that parts of East Germany had become no-go areas for "anyone with a different skin color."

Still, organizers say the neo-Nazi problem should not be overemphasized. The risks of other kinds of violence — including terrorism — is no greater than at any other global event, organizers say, though the skies will be cleared during certain higher-risk games in which countries like the U.S. or England are playing. Phantom jet fighters will be on standby to intercept suspicious flights. More than 200,000 police will be on the streets throughout the tournament, including 500 imported from Britain and other countries to help control their own fans. Polish, Dutch and British prosecutors and a French judge will be on hand if there is trouble with hooligans. Organizers are hoping that the good mood that has already begun to lift spirits from the Rhine to the Oder will keep hooligan violence in check. "In a relaxed and happy atmosphere," Gunter Pilz, sociologist and fan expert at the University of Hanover, says hopefully, "hooligans do not find it so easy to hit someone in the face."

The happy mood will be augmented by big screens for viewing the matches, going up all over Germany — in beer gardens, parks, town squares and even on a floating pontoon on the Main River in central Frankfurt, where fans will be able to watch the tournament from both banks of the river. A huge monitor has been set up next to Cologne's famous Dom cathedral. In Berlin, organizers have erected a screen measuring 60 sq m next to the Brandenburg Gate and another in the woods outside of town. The German sporting-goods company Adidas has fashioned a smaller replica of the Olympic Stadium on the lawn in front of the Reichstag building, where up to 10,000 fans will be able to pay a j5.50 entrance fee to watch any of the 64 games on big-screen TV. Unexpected touches, including a massive pink and gray soccer ball spiked on top of the landmark TV tower in Berlin's Alexanderplatz, and giant, 12-m soccer boots near the Spree River outside the federal Chancellery are contributing to the playful atmosphere.

Ancillary businesses are getting pretty frisky, too. Prostitution was legalized in Germany in 2002, and so-called "performance boxes" complete with tissues and condoms are going up near the stadiums for (male) fans who don't have the time to make it to a brothel. But it isn't just the skin trade that is looking for an injection of cash. For merchandisers, the Cup is a spectacular way to market goods — even if the good in question is a nation. The government of Gerhard Schröder noted the way in which Germany was associated in global opinion polls with two World Wars and technical rather than creative qualities, and decided to advertise Germany's softer side during the Cup. (Schröder, who lost office last year, had anticipated fighting an election in the fall of 2006; a feel-good Cup would not have hurt his chances.)

The most visible part of the program is directed at potential investors. The campaign features three dahlias in the national colors and a series of TV spots featuring the supermodel Heidi Klum among others. Public exhibits include an outsize car at the Brandenburg Gate (it's an Audi), the giant football shoes, a towering Bayer aspirin tablet at the Reichstag building and a stack of giant volumes by the greats of German literature in the same square the Nazis used to torch "un-German" books in 1933. The aim is to advertise not just past accomplishments but industries — from publishing to music (Germans invented the mp3 music format) to cars — that are vital to the global economy. "We want to present Germany as a future-oriented country with a lot of ideas and a lot of tolerance," says de Vries.

Will it all work? "It's too much to believe that you can change the image of a country with one tournament," concedes Rollmann. "But if people leave saying that Germany is a great country with a lot to offer, then we have done a lot." Some critics doubt that an image campaign can have a major impact on perceptions of national character. "You can't conquer history or wash it away just by being happy," says Ulrich Maly, mayor of Nuremberg. Teaching grumpy taxi drivers in Berlin to say "Have a nice day" will get you only so far. "You cannot change a people's mentality by decree in such a short period of time," says Reinhard Mohr, a sociologist and author. "It will take years." Germans are traditionally leery of attempts to talk up the national character. When a group of media companies launched a j30 million advertising campaign late last year entitled Du bist Deutschland (You are Germany) featuring ice-skater Katarina Witt, soccer star Oliver Kahn and others, it was greeted with some derision. As always, the past casts a shadow: one archivist dug up a grainy black-and-white photograph from the 1930s showing Hitler above a banner with similar wording. Oliver Voss, who designed the campaign, says Germans are still deeply torn about their national identity. "A lot of Germans don't even like to use the word Deutschland," he says. "They still have this trauma from what happened in World War II. It is understandable, but it is also paralyzing us."

That may be starting to change. Younger Germans are more ready than their parents' generation to take pride in Germany's achievements, especially those since the war. In 1993, 47% of west Germans said they were proud of their country; by 2002 the number had risen to 65%. "People are actually beginning to realize that we are pretty well off and at the top of the worldwide heap," says Mohr.

Nothing would boost those feelings more than a successful tournament. With more than 6 million members, the German Football Association is one of the largest sporting groups of its kind in the world. Some 80% of Germans call themselves football fans. And as elsewhere in the world, football is no longer a male preserve; German women are attending more games now, perhaps intrigued by the stylishness of players like England's David Beckham and Germany's own Michael Ballack. "Soccer is the most important phenomenon in our popular culture," Oliver Lubrich, a literature professor at the Free University of Berlin said. "In other countries this is spread around a bit more — to film, music and so on. But in Germany soccer is the central field."

And here's the really shocking thing. So keen are they to present a smiley face to the rest of the world that Germans may even be moderating their hopes for success on the field. Traditionally, says Mohr, "Aside from our deep-seated fear and feelings of guilt, we also have megalomaniac traits. We always have to be No. 1." But these days Germans say they are just as interested in being good hosts as in hoisting the cup. Grünewald, the psychologist, says that coupled with the belief that the tournament can produce a "renaissance in national self-esteem" is a corresponding fear that Germany will "reveal character traits we believed that we had shed." As a consequence, he thinks Germans are a little less fixated on victory than in the past. Asked about the prospect of Germany failing to make it past the first round, Rollmann frowned, but said he could handle the prospect. "Shit happens," he said. Germany is changing already.

• ANDREW PURVIS / Berlin
• For Germany, winning isn't everything this summer. Its goal? To rebrand the country as a nation blessed with friendliness, creativity — and a sense of humor. Inside the marketing of Germany Inc.