Loyola College's in Maryland's Berlin Seminar, "Meet the Authors"

Organized by Dr. Ursula E. Beitter, Dept.of Modern Languages and Literatures
Report written by Lisa Ohm, College of St. Benedict

The authors who attended this annual conference to discuss writing in a united Germany, current literature, politics and culture were: Guenther deBruyn, Erich Loest, Helga Schubert, Monika Maron, Joachim Schaedlich, Stephan Krawcyzk, and Stevan Tontic. Every writer gave generously of his/her time, usually a 3-hour morning or afternoon session and oftentimes an added visit over lunch or dinner.

The conference had a strong central theme: literary production in a united Germany. Since all the guest writers were originally from former East Germany--some had remained there, a few left--others were exiled, and all had published both before and after German unification in 1989, each one represented a different aspect of a now multifaceted current literary scene which had previously been divided into an East-West split..

While we 45 conference participants each had our own favorite guest writer, I think we would all agree that if any single guest had not been present, the overall discussion would have suffered. DeBruyn, trained in library science, remained in East Berlin because,"Ich konnte das Brandenburgerische nicht verlassen." Concentrating on regional history and avoiding politics, deBruyn was able to publish his works in the East. He admits to censuring himself: "Die Selbstzensur setzte sehr früh ein, schon bei der Ideenentwicklung, zum Beispiel." If for some reason he had not been able to publish in the East, however, deBruyn states unequivocally "dann wäre ich sicher auch weggegangen." .

As for all writers, German unification has opened up to deBruyn entirely new categories of literary topics. True to his interest in Heimat and history, deBruyn has turned to autobiography. Turning sixty, says deBruyn, inspired his interest in his own life's story. In August 1996 the second volume of his autobiography, Aus vierzig Jahren, will appear, telling the story of East Germany from its formation as a state in 1949 to its end in 1989. This volume follows the story of his youth in Berlin in Zwischenbilanz, and I anticipate that Aus vierzig Jahren will attract the widest international readership deBruyn has ever had..

DeBruyn admitted that he was as surprised as everyone else by the dissolution of East Germany as a state, but he says he was even more surprised that the West was caught off guard. When he heard-- once again!--the statement, "Die DDR kann einfach wirtschaftlich nicht weitergehen; jetzt sind wir bald am Ende," he didn't take it seriously since he had heard the same things for the last 40 years: "Mein Gott, das h&oumlre ich seit 40 Jahren!" But he couldn't resist teasing the West Germans: "Aber die DDR-Forscher im Westen, da¤ sie nicht gewußt haben!".

DeBruyn lamented the loss of literary talent when those writers who provoked the regime were punished or exiled: "Jeder Autor, der in den Westen ging, war für uns ein Aderlaá, ein Trauma." Erich Loest, who read from his 1995 novel Nikolaikirche, represents one such bloodletting for the former GDR: Loest spent 7 years in Bautzen prison for his criticism of the East German government's brutal handling of rebelling workers on June 17, 1953. In 1981 Loest settled in Hamburg, West Germany, but since unification he returns to his beloved Leipzig for part of every year. In the West, Loest wrote about his experiences in the East; now back in the East, Loest said he would write about his experiences in the West..

His most recent work, however, is a docu-novel about the peaceful revolution of October 1989 in the Nicolai [Lutheran] Church in Leipzig, East Germany. Loest's Nikolaikirche has reached a wide audience through the 1995 film of the same name, which has received rave reviews in the German press. Loest was fascinated by the absence of violence on that evening of the 9th of October, 1989, in Leipzig when 70,000 demonstrators faced 7,000 police in the streets. "Es hätte auch anders in der DDR ausgehen k&oumlnnen," says Loest, who says the lack of force on the part of the Russians or the East German police was "die größte Überraschung meines Lebens." The demonstrators, using passive resistance techniques, overwhelmed the police, who state in the film, "Wir waren auf alles vorbereitet, nur nicht auf Kerzen und Gebeten.".

Loest had been observed by the Stasi (Staatssicherheitsdienst), the East German secret police, for years, and after unification he published his Stasi file. Discovery of a Stasi file has been part of the pain, anger, jealousy and rage of German unification; it is painful for individuals who learned that trusted neighbors, acquaintances, friends, even family members were spying on them for the Stasi and receiving some benefits for doing so. It was equally painful for those doing the spying to be suddenly exposed as Stasi informants. Such Informelle Mitarbeiter (I.M.) never expected to be uncovered, and many even had a public reputation as opponents of the East German government. Writers who spied on other writers for the Stasi were in an especially uncomfortable position when their collaboration was exposed. The whole issue is so sensitive that even Loest was criticized for publishing his own Stasi file, accused of trying to garner publicity for himself..

Loest, a gifted writer and intellectual, emits an aura of solidity and common sense. "Keiner wird mit einer wei¤en Veste durchkommen," predicts Loest, suggesting that he who is without sin may throw the first stone. Despite what seems to be a call to forgive and forget, Loest said of another guest writer, Monika Maron, "Ich werde nie mehr eine Zeile von ihr lesen.".

Maron, whose first novel, Flugasche, was published in 1981 in West Germany, created a sensation since it exposed the low priority environmental issues had in East German economic planning and the government's ability to muzzle the press and suppress the truth about the extent of environmental degradation. Though mistrusted by the state for having published in the West, Maron did not leave East Germany until 1988; she went to Hamburg where she continues to reside..

Literary circles were shocked to read an article in the German press on August 8, 1995 which revealed that Maron, too, had worked for the Stasi as an informer. Maron's response to the sobering report, calling her Stasi work from 1976-78 "spannend" and "sogar komisch," seemed unjustifiably flippant to many. Maron stated that she had done it "aus blanker Neugier" and added, "wahrscheinlich täte ich es wieder." .

Maron's situation is typical of any number of dilemmas produced by German unification. Maron says in her own defense that during those months that she worked for the Stasi "ich habe mich nicht anders gehalten als sonst." Loest said something very similar about being observed by Stasi informers: "Ich habe mir die größte Mühe gegeben, es nicht zu merken, und das war das beste, was wir machen k&oumlnnten." Both positions seem impossible to defend. Hans Joachim Schädlich insists that no report from a reformer is harmless: "Die I.M.s lieferten die Bespitzelten Stück für Stück aus." Those who were observed often found obvious indications that their house had been searched or their telephone tapped. The clumsiness could be interpreted as incompetence on the part of the Stasi. It could also be interpreted as a clear signal to the observed that the Stasi had access to and information about their most private lives..

Hans Joachim Schädlich suggests that Maron may have been like others who agreed to Stasi demands in order to gain a highly desired privilege. Maron is the step-daughter of a former high government official in the GDR. Consequently, she had every social privilege--except a passport, and with the passport the right to travel outside the East Bloc countries. The simple application for a passport often turned into an invitation from the Stasi to work for them in exchange for the coveted freedom to travel..

Schädlich describes himself as "nicht kommunistisch gesinnt aber ein glaubenswollender Bürger." His first disillusionment came when he encountered a dissident who spent 16 years in the Russian Gulag. His second disillusionment was Prague 1968. "Seit 1968 habe ich heimlich geschrieben." Schädlich left East Germany in December of 1977 and resides in West Germany. He is glad that the repressive communist system is no longer in power, but he reminds us that the former GDR has a great deal more practical experience dealing with the Russians, the Poles and other East Bloc countries than we do in the West..

Stefan Krawczyk is a Liedermacher who has remained in East Berlin. "Das Wort," Krawczyk reminds us, "macht uns menschlich und bringt uns zusammen." Many question today whether the word has the same power that it had in the past. In the former East Bloc countries hungry readers milked every word of its multiple meanings. Of the East Germans deBruyn says: "Wir haben gelernt, zwischen den Zeilen zu lesen." Krawczyk suggests that readers have been replaced by consumers and, in his biting and somewhat Brechtian humor, remarks that "Im Westen wir dürfen alles sagen, aber kein Mensch pa¤t auf!" .

Helga Schubert, who just returned from her first visit to the U.S., was a delightful speaker, entertaining, informative and confident. Like deBruyn, Schubert was born in Berlin and remained in the East. She credits her coping ability to her intellectual preparation as a psychotherapist. Feeling at home among scientists, she felt freer to discuss the situation of the individual within society. Previously active in politics, she has now both left her profession and dropped out of politics in order to write full-time..

Still, Schubert felt pressured by the regime. When on a literary tour abroad, she was instructed by the East German government to not appear in a Goethe Institute. She acquiesced but now asks if she shouldn't have challenged that order..

Our final guest served to remind us that the pain and chaos of a uniting Germany is a picnic compared to the hell of war in the former Yugoslavia. Writing in Serbia, or Serbo-Croatian, Stevan Tontic's poems from Sarajevo depict the death, destruction, starvation, and hopelessness of a populace caught in the clutches of genocide and war. "Am Anfang war ich absolut gelähmt. In Sarajevo war Poesie schreiben sinnlos! Doch Poesie ist mein Glauben; ch mu¤ schreiben. Aber langsam dachte ich, ich mu¤ diese fürchterliche Einmaligkeit festlegen. Auch war das Schreiben eine gewi¤e Therapie für mich." The poem, "Das Ei," where the yellow of the egg is compared to gold and the cracking of the egg to the butchering of a pig reflects the desperate state of food supplies in the city. "Oh, Reiskorn" and "Ein handvoll Tabak" demonstrate how daily necessities loom large in the poet's imagination in the same ratio that God retreats into the distance: "Gott ist mir ferner als je zuvor.".

In Sarajevo Tontic was plagued with fears: fear of starvation; fear of humiliation--"Es gibt schwere Erniedrigungen, die wir nicht ertragen k&oumlnnen"; fear of military conscription; fear of being killed or badly wounded. Not until he was facing conscription into the Bosnian Army did Tontic escape the country. He is currently living in exile in West Germany, separated for 3 years from his wife who is likewise an exile, but in Bulgaria. Tontic feels that the European powers were not prepared to face the use of force that the opposing forces in former Yugoslavia were willing to expend. His hope is that the situation "kann nicht so ewig dauern."