The glass dome of the German parliament building, the Reichstag, in Berlin The Atlantic Council The architect Sir Norman Foster has metaphorically taken the weight off the dreary Reichstag with his glass dome the past, while the people were curious and were looking forward. In Germany things were similar but more complicated. While the leaders of the West German government were working energetically towards a swift reunification, the voters remained divided. As is generally known, there was not a single demonstration in favor of reunification in West Germany. The Social Democratic Party (SPD) and their leader Oskar Lafontaine were warning of the enormous costs of reunification and were slamming on the brakes. Günter Grass was also apprehensive about the Germans and their “clamor for reunification.” He created a stir when he proposed in an essay that the Germans should wave their right of selfdetermination. The “New Forum,” a grouping that had emanated from civil rights movements in the GDR, also postulated in favor of two German states; reunification was not on the agenda. Leading intellectuals in the GDR, among them Christa Wolf, Volker Braun and Stefan Heym, composed an appeal, “For our country.” Therein they warned of the “selling out of our material and moral values” and called on the citizens of the GDR to develop a “socialist alternative to the FGR.” The comment of an old worker became famous at the time: “First I got to know National Socialism,” he said, “then the real existing Socialism in the GDR. I won’t survive a third Socialism.” It was the people of the GDR who forced through reunification. The intellectuals on both sides of the fallen Wall loved and idolized the people, as long as they chanted, “We are the people” on their Monday demonstrations starting in Leipzig. They reacted with horror or scorn when the same people cheered the visiting Helmut Kohl in spring 1990, shouting “We are one nation,” and threatening, “If the German D-Mark doesn’t come to us, we will come to the German D-Mark.” If the Germans had listened to the intellectuals, reunification would never have happened. The East Germans seized the opportunity for reunification with the same instinct of people who have experienced an economy of scarcity: grab the opportunity as soon as an offer is in the shop window <strong>–</strong> tomorrow the bananas and the oranges might be sold out. In fact, just six months after reunification, i.e. after the fall of Mikhail Gorbachev in August 1991, Helmut Kohl wouldn’t have had anyone to negotiate with. Until the fall of the Wall, Berlin was the only German city in which you could sense and see that there was an unfinished chapter of German post-war history called “Germany divided”. Today Berlin is the only city in Germany where reunification really has happened. If you go for a walk in the rediscovered Berlin Mitte or in Friedrichshain, you can’t distinguish between younger passers-by, either by their dress or their accents, let alone by their way of thinking. It is impossible to assign them to either East or West. You meet a new species: Berliners who are proud of their city but in a laid-back way. Those who, like myself, knew Berlin from the 1960s can hardly comprehend the transformation. Roofs and lofts have been spruced up, beach cafés have sprouted along the canals, with sand under the deck chairs; and Prenzlauer Berg, formerly a hangout for the arty Bohemian crowd in East Berlin, has become the district with the most children in Europe. The architect Sir Norman Foster has metaphorically taken the weight off the dreary Reichstag with his glass dome and heralded a Berlin era of lightness. The locals, with their quick-wittedness, tolerance and will to survive, have remained throughout all these changes; and many old walls with their crumbling plasterwork and their bullet holes from World War II have also remained <strong>–</strong> despite the many new buildings and restoration. And another “icon” has been preserved, too: the passer-by who stands swearing at the pavement as he scrapes the dog’s mess off the sole of his shoe. I only used to tolerate life in Berlin by going away for a while <strong>–</strong> to Italy or the United States. But when I had gone for a few weeks, I used to reminisce about Berlin, comparing her to a difficult mother who time and time again repulsed me with her preciousness, her lack of style, her abrasiveness and her bouts of depression. But there was never any doubt that Berlin was my home. Today there is no more reason to leave Berlin <strong>–</strong> apart from the grey sky in November. Peter Schneider is a journalist and author of The Wall Jumper. 23
Poland’s Path to <strong>NATO</strong> Adam Michnik looks at the revolutions that brought about the fall of communism 24 The Atlantic Council
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