1989- The Struggle to Create Post-Cold War Europe Page 8

  Fig. 1.4. The Bornholmer Street border crossing from East to West Berlin, in the early hours of November 10, 1989. Courtesy of Bundesarchiv, Bild 183-1989-1110-016. Photo by Jan Bauer.

  In an enormous stroke of good luck for those crossing, nearly every person senior enough to make strategic decisions was locked in crisis meetings. The main one was the East German Central Committee session, which was running well over schedule, debating until 8:45 p.m. instead of its scheduled 6:00 p.m. ending. In an era before cell phones and texting, this meant that the participants were cut off from the news, and underlings on the outside were too timid to walk in and interrupt. As a result, those who might have contemplated ordering bloody reprisals were uninformed and unaware.

  On top of this, the senior military leadership had called for its own meeting to start at 7:00 p.m., following on the expected 6:00 p.m. ending of the Central Committee meeting, since senior officers had to attend that first. This scheduling had the unintended consequence that military leaders who were too junior to be members of the Central Committee assembled punctually in their own appointed conference room just before 7:00 p.m., missing the crucial final minutes of the press conference and sitting in ignorance for nearly three hours until their superiors finally broke free from the Central Committee and rushed to join them after 9:30 p.m., amazingly enough without getting any substantive updates en route. Presumably no one wanted to be the bearer of extremely bad news to the big bosses.127

  The deputy minister for national defense, Manfred Grätz, would later recall sadly that “at this crucial time, we sat around a lot, we talked a lot, sometimes we talked uselessly, and the time slipped away.” Although a few people were finally called to the phone during the late night military meeting, only after its midnight ending did most of the military leadership—those most capable of using massive, organized force to prevent a border opening—find out what was going on.128

  Within the next three days, approximately 3 million GDR citizens visited West Berlin and West Germany. In a rearguard action, the ruling party at first tried to insist that would-be travelers procure visas. So strong were old habits in East Germany that despite the scenes of visaless travel on the night of November 9, over 5.2 million East Germans still sought and received such visas. Offices responsible for their distribution were overrun and could not distribute them fast enough.129 Nor could the East German state supply what travelers really needed: Western currency. The “welcome money” that West Germany gave to all East Germans who made it over was hardly enough for an extended trip.130 And not until November 12 was the practice of shooting persons trying to cross the border without visas—which had killed Gueffroy just nine months earlier—officially and fully repealed.131

  CONCLUSION

  By the night of November 9, these five developments had permanently altered the Cold War and produced a causal chain that resulted in the unintentional opening of the Berlin Wall. The first was the failure of Tiananmen to transfer into the European context; this failure revealed that a consensus for nonviolence had fully established itself in Europe.132 The protests in China in spring and summer 1989, and the response of the Chinese party leaders, are still useful as a contrast, because they show that violence remained a real option for Communist leaders in 1989. Numerous signs suggested that the East German leader Honecker approved of this method and hoped to implement it. A combination of factors—the non-violent behavior of the Leipzig protesters, the feeling among other Politburo members that they should follow Gorbachev’s rather than Honecker’s lead, and general chaos—meant that Honecker could not implement his bloody dream. But despite all the problems that the GDR had, it still could have used force in October 1989, and the consequences would have been unpredictable. Once it did not, once it was clear that there was a consensus for nonviolence among both rulers and ruled, the fall revolutions cemented their uniquely peaceful character.

  Second, even as that consensus emerged, an older one was in question. The Cold War consensus on Europe—that it would remain divided but peaceful—no longer looked so settled in 1989.133 East Europeans made it clear in the 1980s that they were no longer willing to live with this arrangement. And because of the conscious decision of the United States to step back and refrain from big initiatives in 1989, Gorbachev could make little headway. Thus, the initiative for change now came from the streets, particularly those in Hungary, Poland, and East Germany.

  Third, even as East Europeans ceased to be willing to tolerate the status quo, the renewed U.S. preference for components of that status quo became plain. Leading NATO countries were aware of how hard fought the compromises involved in coalition diplomacy and action had been, and did not want to alter them lightly. Reagan’s initiatives had had a number of detractors in NATO and his own vice president’s office, and now Bush was in charge. This interest in slowing down the pace of change and sticking to what had been decided, most notably the maintenance of short-range nuclear weapons, clashed with the desires of European protesters both in the East and the West.

  The fourth significant development was the rise in the self-confidence of East European protesters, and it was extremely steep in East Germany, which had previously had no counterpart of equal weight to Solidarity or even reform-minded Hungarian party leaders. Dissident leaders gained massive popular support over the course of 1989, and rulers saw their support fade as soon as they were subjected to popular assessment (whether via the ballot box, as in Poland, or the streets). The gap in living standards with the West along with the incompetent leadership that had produced that result had long been apparent, but in 1989 protesters decided to voice their anger.

  When they did so, radio broadcasters and more importantly television cameras were there to record—and, remarkably, to shape—the powerful scenes that resulted. Throughout the fall, images televised in the West, but also received in the East, had their own impact on events. This mechanism was most apparent on the night of November 9, when East Germans demanded to cross the wall because they had heard on radio and television that they could.

  The nature of this causal chain suggests that theorists of power and theorists of ideas need to pay attention to each other to understand what happened. On the one hand, some developments were based on old-fashioned realist calculations. The Bush administration chose to institute a pause in negotiating with the Soviet Union because it felt it could take advantage of declining Soviet power without making more concessions, despite the fact that the Soviet Union retained an edge in conventional forces and a vast nuclear arsenal.

  On the other hand, some developments were ones of attitude rather than capability, of ideas rather than material abilities. The East German regime had the capability to suppress street protests with the use of military weaponry, just as the Chinese had done. Indeed, preparations were made to do just that in Leipzig in October. But like Gorbachev, Krenz and his followers were willing to believe that their long-term survival would be better ensured by a peaceful approach to protest. Similarly, the rising self-confidence of the protesters in Eastern Europe did not emerge after Soviet troops had left their countries; it emerged while they were still there. The Soviet Union retained the military ability to end protests in 1989, as it had done in 1953, 1956, and 1968. But East Europeans now knew that the USSR was unwilling to pay the bloody cost necessary to crush them, which represented a change of perception rather than of actual force structure. And in a clear example of the power of words, television and radio broadcasts may fairly be given credit for finally opening the Berlin Wall.

  In short, in the course of 1989, half of Europe had come to the conclusion that it need not continue to live under nondemocratic regimes in the interest of maintaining the stability of the whole. Put differently, that half decided that it was not stuck with the receipt for deceit in perpetuity. Western Europe might have had a good Cold War, but Eastern Europeans most definitely had not, and they wanted fundamentally different life choices, now that the threat of violent repression was gone.134 Cha
nge to the existing order, as in 1789, 1939, and 1949, was once again possible in 1989. The division of Germany had ended. Would peace or conflict follow? What new model of political and social order would emerge to replace one that had failed so comprehensively?

  CHAPTER 2

  RESTORING FOUR-POWER RIGHTS, REVIVING A CONFEDERATION IN 1989

  At midday the Germans brought basins of turnip soup or loaves of bread and left you to shift for yourself for the day. First it was the reign of the knife … after all the knife is the knife, a simple principle of established order. However, that did not last three months … new delegates, designated who knows how, cut black bread in six slices to the nearest millimeter, under the penetrating stare of universal suffrage. A rare and instructive sight. I was witness to the birth of the social contract.

  —François Mitterrand, reflecting on his wartime experience in a German prison camp

  Freedom and chance are a question of the middle distance, a matter of how far away you are. Do you understand?

  —from the bestselling German novel Measuring the World, 20051

  The East German street—meaning protesters old and new—had brought down the wall, with the help of the media. Most of the rest of the world had simply sat in front of a television set and watched in amazement. It was a good show; the contest between the power of the party and the power of the people played out on a grand scale. The end of the spectacle was the realization that the party and its Soviet backers were not willing to shed blood to maintain the Cold War order.2 Clearly new models for order were needed, and five key actors would soon propose them. They would become the crucial players in the international politics of the unification of Germany.

  Before looking in detail at these five and what they did after the wall opened, it is worth taking a moment to define the notion of “key actor.” 3 This definition rests not so much on rank as on capability. At a time of revolutionary change, when norms and institutions were all called into question, the capacity for successful action became more important than any particular title, collective designation, or structural niche. At times the expected, traditional figures—heads of government and state, plus their aides—were more significant; but at other times the masses on the street dominated. What mattered most was the ability to achieve change in a desired direction, or put another way, to emerge as a leader in the struggle to define a new order. Moreover, there was a dynamic component as well; the same individuals were not always able, throughout the transition between November 1989 and October 1990, to maintain their leading roles, so the “mantle” of key actor passed often from one group to another.4

  Chronologically, the five emerged in the following order: (1) The first was Kohl, together with his closest aides, but as distinct from the government of West Germany; distinct, because the chancellor often formulated policy in secret from the liberal Free Democratic Party (FDP), ostensibly his governing coalition partner. This practice was risky. Without the Liberals’ support, and that of their leader, Foreign Minister Genscher, Kohl’s government would fall; so the chancellor had to be careful not to push them past the breaking point. He understood this dynamic well, because it was how he had become chancellor in the first place. In 1982, Genscher and his party had deserted the previous left-of-center chancellor, Schmidt. They had shifted their support to Kohl. Despite knowing all of this, the chancellor would often daringly keep Genscher in the dark. It would be, however, too simplistic to say that Genscher was not a key actor. It was when he and Kohl worked together (as in July 1990) that they would accomplish the most. They did not always cooperate, though, and so it is best to maintain an awareness of Kohl as separate from the full coalition.

  (2) The second key actor was a kind of twentieth-century constitutional convention, formed at the end of 1989. Leaders of the East German protest movement decided to create this new “round table” with the very forces that had repressed them in the past, in a bid to bridge old divides and act in a unified fashion to create an autonomous East Germany. Such a round table in Poland had helped bring Solidarity into a workable coalition government with the ruling regime, and the East German version initially commanded a great deal of attention, as it seemed like it might duplicate that success.

  (3) The Americans realized that after intentionally disengaging for much of 1989, they needed to step forward. Bush, Baker, Scowcroft, and their aides, in close consultation with Manfred Wörner, the secretary general of NATO and a West German himself, began working closely with Kohl. A small dinner in December 1989 between Bush and Kohl personally, overshadowed at the time by the Malta Summit and the U.S. invasion of Panama, was crucial in starting this process. Cooperation between Washington and Bonn switched into high gear at the start of 1990.

  (4) Next, Mitterrand, together with a few senior EC leaders, would come to play a critical role. He first had to consider alternatives and make his peace with the prospect of rapid German unity. However, this would happen in the early months of 1990.

  (5) Finally, both Gorbachev and his inner circle, but also their high-level opponents in the party and military, were central to all developments. Although the Soviet Union was in a state of economic collapse, the already-mentioned fact that it maintained troops on the ground in East Germany meant that nothing could be finalized without its agreement. Such agreement emerged fitfully between February and September 1990.5

  What immediate impact did the news about the opening of the wall have on each of these five actors?

  ON THE NIGHT OF NOVEMBER 9

  Kohl was getting the feeling that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he did not like it. He had arrived in Warsaw earlier that day with an enormous delegation, including nearly all of his top aides, to great pomp and fanfare. They were there for what, by any standard, was a necessary event: an extended visit to Poland on the fiftieth anniversary of the Nazi attack in autumn 1939. Kohl’s goal was to improve West German–Polish relations, now that members of the independent trade union Solidarity were out of prison and in government. But questions about East Germany kept coming up from the minute he landed, including in a conversation with the world-famous Solidarity leader Lech Wałęsa. Kohl and Wałe˛sa had started talking at 6:05 p.m., even as the 6:00 p.m. Schabowski press conference in East Berlin was just beginning. Wałe˛sa had surprised Kohl by asking what it would mean for Poland if the wall opened. Kohl had dismissed the idea outright, saying that the East German crowds were simply not that radical.6 Wałe˛sa’s instincts, though, were better than Kohl’s; even as the chancellor took leave of Wałe˛sa and made his way to the opening banquet, he began getting word that Schabowski might have announced something big.

  Now, at the elegant dinner, the head of Kohl’s press office, Johnny Klein, was doing the unthinkable. Klein was coming to the chancellor at the banquet table and interrupting Kohl’s conversation with the Polish prime minister, former Solidarity activist Tadeusz Mazowiecki. The excuse was that earlier reports of some kind of sensation at the Schabowski press conference seemed to be true. Around 9:00 p.m., Kohl excused himself from the table and called one of the few trusted aides left back in Bonn, his head of public relations, Eduard Ackermann, to ask what was going on. “Mr. Chancellor, as we speak the wall is falling!” his aide replied enthusiastically. “Ackermann, are you sure?” the chancellor demanded. The aide responded “yes,” he was sure, because there were already crowds assembled on the eastern sides of border crossings, hoping to exit. Indeed, if he was rightly informed, a few had already made it out; presumably Ackermann was referring to the trickle out of Bornholmer Street that would soon turn into a wave. Kohl had to take Ackermann’s word for it. Even in the West German embassy in Warsaw, it was not possible to get FRG television channels. Sitting inside Warsaw Pact territory, the chancellor had limited ability to send or receive sensitive communications. In other words, he was now certain that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and would have to do something about it.7

  Kohl, born to a Catholic family i
n 1930 as the youngest of three children, had grown up admiring another Catholic politician: the first chancellor of West Germany, Konrad Adenauer. The younger man admired Adenauer’s attempts to revive democracy after the disaster of the war, in which Kohl’s older brother Walter had died at age nineteen. The young Helmut decided to become active in politics as early as possible, by joining the youth organization of the CDU and studying political history in college. He would eventually earn a PhD in history at the University of Heidelberg, with a dissertation on the formation of West German political parties after 1945. Kohl’s studies in no way interfered with his political career; a shooting star within the CDU, Kohl was already governor of the state (or “Land”) of Rheinland-Palatinate by 1969, before turning forty. Later, his talent for local and party politics proved to be a success on the national level as well. Kohl became chancellor of all of West Germany in 1982, after winning the support of the Liberals (as described above). He would eventually hold the position for sixteen years.8

  In 1989, however, he was on the verge of what could potentially be the biggest crisis of his chancellorship. As a student of history, he was not about to make the same mistake that Adenauer had made. On the advice of the Western allies, Adenauer had not gone to Berlin in 1961 in the midst of his own major crisis, when the wall went up. The old man had been soundly criticized for staying away from the scene of the action, and Kohl did not want to face the same criticism. Tracking events as best he could after the formal banquet ended that night and into the wee hours of Friday, November 10, Kohl decided that he had to go back—not to divided Berlin, but rather to his seat of power in the West: Bonn.9