The Comeback of the DDR E-Book

Gerd Glaser

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 155

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Gerd Glaser, a veteran journalist in search of a fundamental career change, makes the cold leap from west to east, specifically to Brandenburg. There, amazing things happen both in the editorial office and in the context of political events. West German envy, East German work ethic and a thirst for medals reveal the enduring mentality of the GDR. Glaser offends, reveals and is amazed. What should he do? Go back to Munich? Or stay, wonder and continue working? He decides to stay. The topics of a shift to the right, migration and, not least, the war in Ukraine determine his journalistic routine, where the author also makes his observations and draws his own conclusions.

Leseprobe

Preliminary remark

Now they are all breaking out in jubilation again, singing the praises of German reunification, making speeches everywhere, praising the cohesion of the two German states and seeing the opportunity for a dynamic Germany of the future in growing together: 30 years after reunification, a united Germany is being celebrated that in reality only exists in the dreams and phrases of some appointed keynote speaker. The reality is completely different. We are experiencing a torn nation and many people in East and West who still have a wall in their heads. The majority of people feel very differently and this is ultimately reflected in the very different election results in East and West. 30 years of unification have hardly brought the two Germanys any closer together. The author tries to show why this is so and why it has hardly changed, based on his own experiences, sometimes in an exaggerated, ironic way, always told close to the people. Far removed from all statistics, income structures, tabular balance sheets and pension level developments, this book shows that the GDR never disappeared.

1.

Arriving in Brandenburg and starting work as editor-in-chief

It was a misty, cloudy October day in 2010 and I was taking a regional train into Brandenburg an der Havel's main station. The reason for my trip east was to introduce myself, a Munich resident by choice, as an applicant for the position of editor-in-chief of the private Brandenburg local and regional broadcaster SKB. What have I let myself in for, I thought, when I saw the dilapidated station in Brandenburg and the dilapidated station area. You can't expect anyone to do something like that, except perhaps some directors who want to shoot a new version of Stalingrad in search of dilapidated walls. That was my first thought: a different world, even though unification was announced 20 years ago. I took a cab to a guesthouse right on the Havel, surrounded by beautiful nature, which I had already dutifully selected on the Internet: a very interesting city, was my impression, but the most beautiful houses in the center were rotting away, surrounded by beautifully spruced up town houses. But why, you may ask, did I end up in this Brandenburg province in the first place? Well, there were actually two reasons. Firstly, I was looking for a job and secondly, I had always been fascinated by East Germany and the SED regime. If I was to find someone here who had been in the Stasi, it would have been unthinkable to experience such a thing, the search for living Gestapo men in Munich would probably have been futile, but here there was still the hope of suddenly coming face to face with living specimens of a species of German evildoers. How would I react, as a journalist who had previously only ever encountered people who believed in the dictatorship at the Wehrmacht exhibition in Munich or in the museum?

No, such a state, such a system was not for me. Sure, we also had to chant some opinions at school and university in order to stay in the career game, but of course there were no prisons, study bans and the like. And travel restrictions were unthinkable for my generation: you couldn't ignore the fact that Biermann, Bahro and Havemann were harassed for their opinions, you read about it, but your own career goals were more important. I wouldn't call it adaptation if it was always a bit upwards. The ambition was simply there to overcome hurdle after hurdle, even if it was rocky. There was no time to linger, always higher, always further, DSF, ProSieben, Welt der Wunder and then at 50 in a career hole: suddenly out of the material pleasures of the West, no more glamorous journalist job, such a fall is deep, friends no longer call you, were they even friends and helpers in times of need: no sign. It makes you wonder what to do next, what do you actually want in life? Discovering something new or something old as a journalist, immersing yourself in the history of the GDR, getting to know the people there, that was something else, and then I read this ad: editorial manager wanted in the East and I was motivated again. That could be it, to study the other part of Germany, what was different there, how do the people there think? It grabbed me and I wanted the job, just like I used to want to work as a reporter for a big TV station and made it . So now I'm standing in Brandenburg, trembling as I walk through the city after spending the night in a guesthouse. What awaits me now, can I even score points when I introduce myself, was the anxious question. I had to undergo an assessment. They're really new-fangled if they choose such a procedure for selecting applicants, were the thoughts that flashed through my mind. My condition was just as bumpy as the cobblestones I was walking on. Just don't brag about what a great pike you've been so far, I thought. Do they even want a Westerner and haven't they already had their sights set on another candidate? What I did know was that the head of the company was a highly decorated engineer in the GDR, who ran a traditional company from the former GDR in addition to the TV station. That was reassuring. The conversation revealed that the entrepreneur was very familiar with the German media landscape, but was also disappointed by the development of the media after reunification. A highly competent personality, but one who made it easy for me: he wanted to bring a breath of fresh air into the landscape and leave the old behind. I liked that. We discovered things we had in common during the conversation and so I didn't have to wait long before he gave me the green light for my adventure in East Germany.

If you grew up in the West and went to school, you only ever heard one thing: you have to become something, you have to be better than the others and assert yourself in the world of the free market. Then you'll have every chance and find a great job: well, that's what you're taught with your mother's milk and you put it into practice if you want to make a career and aspire to something: At the age of 12, I decided to become a radio presenter, bawling out Dieter Thomas Heck in the living room on Sundays when my parents were out hiking and imitating the presenters from Radio Luxembourg more badly than well. I lost my Swabian accent, which native Stuttgarters can hardly manage, and actually succeeded: I was already sitting at the radio microphone of professional radio stations during my studies. The message had stuck with me: you can achieve anything in the West. At that time, I hardly thought about the people in the GDR, as it was suggested to me that, whether in the family, at school or at work, they didn't achieve anything and people there suffered from a lack of freedom. Unfortunately, I had to experience a game of a blatant kind myself when, at the age of 17, I was frisked on a bus by border guards on a study trip to Polish concentration camps with Aktion Sühnezeichen. There was plenty of prey for the eager state protectors: they caught me with a copy of Der Spiegel, which had written a cover story about Moscow's armament madness. I was detained for several hours and the bus was not allowed to continue. After interrogation and temporary solitary confinement, I was belittled and lectured by my compatriots from the East. But not converted. They managed to give me back a tattered mirror from which they had torn out what they saw as a corrosive story about Moscow's arms mania, plus other articles that they believed would damage the GDR system. They gave me back a remnant of scraps of paper. What a mockery, that actually covered my GDR needs for the time being.

Nobody in Munich was enthusiastic about my Ossi adventure: former colleagues even advised me against it. I heard comments like, I would never do that, go there, I'd rather make a living as a freelance journalist here, was thrown at me.

I couldn't inspire anyone with my new job. I immediately realized that the prejudices against East Germans were all still there, and what really shocked me was that none of my friends, acquaintances and colleagues would have been flexible enough to move to the East and open another chapter in Germany. They were journalists too, where was their curiosity, oh well, they had made themselves comfortable and considered Munich to be the hub of the world. Some even bragged about how much rent they had to pay each month so that everyone could see how well off they were. That was no longer my world, sometimes a few months of unemployment can do you good and make you think about life again. My wife was initially happy that I had a new job again and supported my transfer to the East, looked for an apartment, but then immediately rushed back to Munich, where a well-paid job was waiting for her after she finished her studies. So now I had arrived in Brandenburg and was introduced to my colleagues as the new head of the editorial department. My enthusiasm for the new boss was limited, I felt more like rejection, I even had a feeling creeping up inside me, yes, I felt like I was really just a nuisance here. Formatting, yes, the store didn't have a serious structure, it had been on the air since 1996, why was that? I quickly discovered the reason. The owner of the company, the clever engineer, was married to the Lord Mayoress, both CDU members, and of course it helped when the television kept serving up fresh images of her to increase her profile.

This is how the former building contractor became a mayor who made a career for herself and also knew how to sell herself.

But what were my thoughts? Once again, as so often in the East, where have you got yourself into again? Is there such a thing: my boss owns a TV station and his wife is the mayor. Should I pack up again right now, is my journalistic independence in danger, all these questions naturally flashed through my mind. What should I do, just wait and see, I thought to myself, and take a closer look at the whole thing.

The editorial team didn't care about anything anyway, they did what they were told and implemented it lovingly or lovelessly as the mood took them. There was no impetus or motivation. Only one colleague, who moderated the show and used to run the editorial team herself, showed any real journalistic interest, but she had since been put out of work.

Not entirely without reason: the nice, pretty young lady had a horror drive in the city center one night with a good friend: the result: she had crashed the car into an in-pizzeria, it was demolished and the two had then committed a hit-and-run. Of course she became the talk of the town as a result, she was the station's icon. As already mentioned, the other colleagues, apart from one freelance sports reporter, didn't care where I came from. They would have accepted it without a second thought if I had come from Vladivostok, none of them, apart from the lady with the unfortunate car journey, spoke to me about my previous experiences. You have to get used to that first. Whenever a new face appeared on ProSieben, the grapevine was buzzing and everyone wanted to know what he or she had done before. Every detail was researched, here it was different, well, I was surprised myself, but I also had other things to clarify. The question became exciting for me: Can I still work independently here or am I not the mayor's press officer at the same time?

However, even in the face of widespread opposition, she succeeded in redeveloping the run-down and dilapidated station district. Today, it is a dignified gateway to the city, a completely restored main station invites guests, and a modern health center spruces up the entire station area.

In the following city council meeting, a personal statement by an independent left-wing member of parliament was registered in the agenda.

During the meeting, it leaked out that it was supposed to be about me, which was actually surprising because I didn't belong to this honorable house. It came as it should. The heavyweight councillor approached the lectern during the item on public statements, panting heavily, and began to rant.

How I would come to criticize this venerable assembly and also him in such a way, that would not be possible, a media scolding of the very finest delivered by the dear gentleman.

I could only marvel at WHAT WAS POSSIBLE HERE: none of the other councillors were outraged or stopped his torrent of words against the free press. But then he hit top form: He addressed the Lord Mayor directly and called on her to use her influence to get me fired. He literally swaggered into the microphone: "You, Madam Mayor, have good contacts with the boss of this so-called journalist, make sure he is thrown out.

There was no indignation about this idea in this chamber, no, they parted as if nothing had happened. Incidentally, this incident was not mentioned at all in the left-leaning daily press.

Of course, I immediately radioed this number home, which Munich still was for me: my wife asked me to give up my job immediately and return; former colleagues said, we told you straight away, this is madness, you can't stand this kind of thing. A good friend of mine, who is also a journalist, remarked that the whole thing reminded him of the dark years; in GDR times, FRG correspondents in East Berlin were immediately stripped of their accreditation after a critical report. Lothar Loewe sends his regards. But there were no personal consequences for me, as I was under the protection of the media patriarch, who was

The media had put a very well-known media lawyer in position.

This was necessary and became even more important in the following years, as the left-wing alliance did not let up. Things continued to get heated, especially in the other city council meetings. When I nodded off a little during a meeting because of the unbearable monologues, a Social Democrat city councillor had nothing better to do than to capture this snapshot for eternity. But that was not all. He also sent the photo to an editor of the well-known weekly newspaper, who promptly published it online.

Only after hours of intervention with the publisher in Cologne was I able to prevent the photographic document from finding its way into the print edition.

It got even scarier: at the request of some left-wing city councillors, my exclusion as rapporteur at the SVV was prepared. They had realized that, according to the rules of procedure, even a single member of parliament can prevent audio and video recordings. They then used this unbelievable, completely undemocratic statute to chase my cameraman out of the room at the next meeting. It goes without saying that I then left and showed solidarity with my colleague.

In the meantime, this statute no longer exists in its original form; a majority of councillors is needed to exclude audio and video recordings, but to this day there are at least four stubborn councillors who raise their arms against freedom of the press session after session.

The majority of readers will surely understand why I suddenly had no problem following the mayor's course after such socialist united front measures. Especially as she didn't have it easy either: she constantly had to look for new majorities to get her urban development policy through.

My task was clearly outlined by my boss: to change the media landscape in the Brandenburg region as far as Potsdam. A particular annoyance in his eyes was the local daily newspaper, the Märkische, which was completely biased in favor of the red/red government. This did not suit the media entrepreneur, especially as his wife was also constantly put down by this press. First of all, I was interested to know what kind of woman this was who had climbed from entrepreneurship to the highest ranks of local politics. Her reputation preceded her like thunder. She conquered the hearts of the people of Brandenburg, I was told, by single-handedly closing a hole in the Neustädtischer Markt, a nationally known dirty hole that had been an eyesore for months because of a hoped-for investment. As a building contractor, she procured the necessary sand, gathered a few faithful people around her and closed the hole with her own hands. In no time at all, a year later she was mayor . Much to the displeasure of the GDR apologists and socialists, who suddenly had to put up with a CDU woman as mayor of the red city of Brandenburg. It was also a shock for the red/red government in the state capital. The woman was to cause even more grief for those in Potsdam. More on that later. I liked that because I've always been fascinated by spectacular actions. As a Westerner, it was incomprehensible to me anyway that a party that was partly responsible for the injustices in the GDR was even part of the state government here. In preparation for this party, I had smuggled myself into meetings of this party in Munich before, but nothing much came of it - aimless people discussing nothing and scoring just two percent. Of course, it was completely different here, the left was a power, governed and warned against the West. Things were about to get even worse: My new task was set: reporting from the city council for the TV station: while I had previously had illusions that I could report from the original cell of democracy, the local parliament, I was thrown back into the darkest days of socialism during my first reporting assignment. The year was 2010 and I was downright shocked: Here sat people who reminded me of the People's Chamber of the GDR, or at least of what I had read about the anti-democratic People's Hell with its Stalinists. Arguments from times long past, a language that I perceived as totalitarian. A few stood apart, including the mayor, who repeatedly tried to fight pragmatically for solutions. It was understandable that I was viewed with suspicion, I was new and what would I write?

After a night of trauma, I wrote my lines the next day in the editorial office. I just didn't want to understand that they didn't want to tackle urgently needed school renovations just because they had to take out private loans. It didn't matter to the left-wing forces sitting in this SVV that it was raining into the school rooms, the main thing was to reject Western credit aid . My comment thundered in. Uproar, outrage, how can this Western journalist criticize us? On social media and Facebook, the first writers were up in arms against me. But the hardest was yet to come: The upcoming city council meeting showed that democracy had still not arrived in 2010, 20 years after reunification.