Showing posts with label Berlin Wall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Berlin Wall. Show all posts

Saturday, 9 November 2019

The Fall of the Berlin Wall 30 years on

Authoritarianism seems fashionable these days, and liberalism rather on the back foot. So it’s good to celebrate the thirtieth anniversary of a moment which seemed to offer real grounds for optimism: the fall of the Berlin wall.
The Berlin Wall with the death strip
Some years before, I travelled for the first time to Berlin, and spent most of the time in the East, which was then in a different country from the West. I kept a diary for the trip, and here’s what I wrote on my arrival on 3 July 1982.

I was in Tegel by about 7:00 and took the U-Bahn [the underground] through to Friedrichstrasse: there are 3 unused stops before Friedrichstrasse after one has passed under the border… the stations are dimly lit, deserted apart from a single armed guard who nods to the U-Bahn driver as he passes through.

East Germany felt far more foreign than anywhere else I’d visited. Even the Western half of Germany seemed much more like home. It was more silent, with streets more deserted, and more heavily policed than I’d ever seen elsewhere.

I felt alien and depressed in East Berlin… The buildings are imposing, rather too imposing – cold, unwelcoming, inhuman… I wandered down Unter den Linden: it’s magnificent… but the whole is empty at night, forlorn, lifeless. At the end is the Brandenburg Gate, flying the East German flag, while over to the right the West German banner flies above the old Reichstag. The wall runs along in between, and I didn’t dare approach too closely… the place was swarming with guards.

The visit became less painful when I had got to know a few people. On 17 July, a new friend, Friedrich, took me on a trip out of East Berlin to a concert in an old monastery in the countryside.

Off to Kloster Chorin in the morning – the S-Bahn [overground train] … passes at one point between the inner and outer walls, and one has a clear view of the Grenzgebiet [border zone] with the watch towers, tank traps and barbed wire.

As a Westerner myself, I was allowed out to West Berlin whenever I chose, a privilege only available to East Germans once they drew their pensions. On the far side of that wall, I saw the crosses to the people who’d made the attempt, and failed, to cross that death strip.

In the evening after the concert, Friedrich took me around to a flat where a group were enjoying a pleasant evening. The advantage of being in someone’s flat is that everyone could speak openly. One of the older people told me that he felt the lack of personal incentive in the East German economy was doing it terrible damage.

He also told me about a Russian friend who had served in the Soviet army in Berln at the end of the Second World War. It took a lot of effort with the bureaucracy, but in the end he was able to invite him to his place. But throughout his visit, the Russian and his wife spent their time glued to the TV, watching the western news, which Berliners could receive.

It’s fashionable today to decry the ‘mainstream media’ or ‘MSM’ in the West, but when you’ve had to live in a regime where nothing is broadcast other than propaganda, the ‘MSM’ is like a drink to a man dying of thirst.

There’s no doubt that the regime went in for some serious torturing and executing, but I naturally saw none of that. To me, what it seemed mostly to be was stultifying, stifling every creative or individualistic urge of its citizens. They had food, they had shelter, they had healthcare, they had education, but they longed for the freedom their TVs showed their fellow Germans just a few hundred metres away enjoying.

As I travelled home, I wrote up my general impressions of the country:

… if someone like Friedrich is at all typical, then the East German is learning to live with the regime, getting on as best he can within the rules, bending or twisting them as far as possible – ‘Trick’ is a catchword in the DDR. This, in a sense, is a form of reconciliation to the regime, but in another sense it shows that there is also no love of it, that the people distance themselves from it morally. There is no support for it. As Sprössig [a doctor I met] points out, if a free election could be held tomorrow, 80% would vote the SED [the ruling party] out of power. When asked, he reckoned much the same majority would vote for reunion with West Germany.

Neither of us could see it coming, but the process that would lead to reunification was just over seven years away. That was the fall of the ugliest symptom of the regime that I saw while I was there: the Berlin Wall. On 9 November 1989, 30 years ago today, it was finally breached. It had only lasted a little over 28. It’s been gone longer than it was in place.

That’s a matter for celebration. A reminder that we can put the autocrats back in their boxes. Something we badly need to do again today.

Why? Because no achievement for freedom is ever secure for all time. To protect it requires sustained, repeated effort.

Indeed, one comment I made on my visit has proved completely mistaken

… what an effect [German reunification] would have: Strauss [then leader of the CDU’s sister party, the CSU] and the CDU [Christian Democrats, the German Conservatives] in general would have nothing to cheer about, the newly absorbed people would vote very solidly for the SPD [the Social Democrats]

It seemed to me that a people that had got used to free comprehensive healthcare and education and the basic necessities of existence, would never line up with the right. How wrong I was. It’s in the old East Germany that the far right today is strongest. It seems that being a victim of oppression doesn’t necessarily mean that you refuse to join the oppressors yourself later.

We can enjoy the thirtieth anniversary of the fall of the wall. But there are no laurels to rest on. Above all, we need to discover its spirit again.

Sunday, 9 November 2014

Commemoration of a futile war – and a peaceful victory

We went to take a look at the moatful of poppies at the Tower of London yesterday. 

Sea of poppies at the Tower of London
For the (British and Commonwealth) dead of WW1
It’s been criticised powerfully for being so fixated on Britain: the monument is made up of a ceramic poppy for every British and Commonwealth soldier to have been killed in the First World War. It’s true that ignoring the many millions from other nations to have died seems to be another case of putting nation above humanity. And I’ve often wondered whether in any case we focus too much on the dead: there were many survivors who suffered life sentences of mental or physical suffering as a result of the war, and far too little is said of them.

On the other hand, it was impressive. And beautiful. That flood of red beneath the walls was powerfully moving.

Oddly, today combines two commemorations. The British don’t like letting people’s noses off the grindstone, so while France has a public holiday on Armistice Day, 11 November, to mark the end of the First World War, but in Britain we have Remembrance Sunday, today, so that we can commemorate the event without having a day off.

The other commemoration? The 25th anniversary of the opening of the Berlin Wall. Interestingly it too has been marked with flowers. Not poppies, but roses, one each for leading figures who placed them in cracks in a remaining stretch of the Wall.


Angela Merkel placing a rose in a stretch of the Wall
A still more interesting contrast is in the substance of the events commemorated. 

After all, these days few of us feel the First World War achieved much that we now value. We in Europe live in a continent dominated by Germany. I’m not convinced it would have been much worse, by now at least, had we in Britain stood back and let Germany win a Continental war. The war would probably have been short and cost far fewer lives. In all likelihood, we wouldn’t have been at each others’ throats 25 years later.

In 1961, the East German government, puppet of the Soviet Union which owed its existence to a revolution precipitated by the First World War, set up a wall through Berlin, ostensibly to protect the East from Western Fascists in the West. By happy coincidence, it also prevented people from the East falling into the trap of the West and defecting to it. 


It took 28 years for it to be breached – pretty much a generation. But it cost several hundred lives not several million. On the night the wall fell, that night of 9 November 1989, not a single shot was fired and not a single man or woman was killed. As a commentator told the BBC, a member of the then politburo of the GDR has admitted that the leadership was ready for anything at that time – except for candles and prayers, which is what they got.

Despite the many failings of the present German Federation, few of us look back on the Fall of the Wall with anything but joy. Mixed with relief.

Today we in Britain stand on the brink of the first year since the outbreak of the First World War that this country has been at peace. 101 years of continuous warfare. A big moment. Of course, there are still many opportunities to screw it up and get back into some fighting somewhere. But at least we can reflect today, day of two commemorations, of how much more we seem to have achieved by not going to war with the Soviet Union, than we did by going to war with Germany.

We wouldn’t have got that moatful of poppies. But that might have been a price worth paying. 


Part of the line of balloons set up in Berlin on the line of the Wall
before they were released to mark its fall