Berlin Down: Piece of Paper that Brought Down the Berlin Wall -

dexa

WITNESS - The piece of paper that brought down the Berlin Wall
By Douglas Hamilton


REUTERS - It was a flimsy piece of paper that swept away the Berlin Wall.

The statement from East Germany's official news agency ADN ran to four paragraphs and was as matter-of-fact as some Post Office advisory.

"You'll all have seen this?" grumbled Guenter Schabowski, the government spokesman, as he waved the dispatch at a crowded news conference in East Berlin on the evening of Nov. 9, 1989.

"No! What is it? Read it out!" demanded the foreign press.

So he did, mumbling at speed in a harassed tone punctuated by cries from scribbling reporters to slow down.

East Germans would be given permission for private journeys to the West without "fulfilling preconditions", ADN said. They would get permits at short notice and could have "permanent emigration" visas too, if they wanted.

When would this begin? "Immediately, as far as I know," replied the bemused Schabowski, a member of the Politburo who we assumed would know.

Correspondents raced off with the news. But whole minutes ticked by before the penny dropped. This was no travel policy tweak: after 28 years as a lethal divider between East and West, the Wall was coming down.

And so began a night of little wonders.

THE DARK SIDE

Checkpoint Charlie in the American sector of post-war Berlin was one of the most menacing strongpoints in the Iron Curtain.

A gateway for Westerners entering East Berlin and the stuff of Cold War spy novels, it was a forbidding barrier of razor wire, machinegun nests and watch towers erected by the East German state to deter citizens bold enough to dream of escape.

When I passed through earlier that November, on a freezing night that made my boots creak, its unsmiling guards had no idea their intimidation skills would soon be obsolete.

Neither did I, though we all sensed change was accelerating as East Germany's crumbling communist power structure confronted a wave of popular resentment over a bankrupt economy and state repression.

There was never any question that the concrete wall thrown up overnight on August 13, 1961 by the German Democratic Republic was built to fence in East Germans, not to keep out West Germans.

Over the years, 1,000 people died in desperate bids to defeat lethal man-traps along the "death strip" which split Germany and separated drab, provincial East Berlin from the glittering capitalist showcase that was West Berlin.

A bare hour after Schabowski's grumpy delivery, I was back at Checkpoint Charlie. Cold fluorescent light reflected in the steel-rimmed glasses of the guards as I timidly approached.

"People are going to read this and say: 'There must be some mistake'," muttered an officer with a sub-machinegun, clutching a crumpled copy of the ADN announcement I had handed him.

My German colleague Herbert Roessler and I glanced at each other and concealed our smiles.

"It's not good," said a junior guard who peered over his superior officer's shoulder to read the note. "We'll lose our jobs," he added, and he was right.

It turned out that travel freedom had not been intended to start quite as "immediately" as Schabowski had told the world's media. But the genie was out of the bottle.

TOUCHING THE FLAME

Thousands of East Germans, acutely attuned to news, had phoned in to state TV which had to interrupt programmes several times to re-read the ADN announcement.

Now they were flocking to police stations across East Berlin for travel permits that were being issued as fast as humanly possible, until overwhelmed officials simply discarded the formality.

Ecstatic crowds zeroed in on the few locked gates they knew existed in the Wall, a human tide drawn to West Berlin's neon brightness, laughing, crying and dancing in the streets.

At the narrow gate on Invalidenstrasse, West Berlin's mayor used a loud-hailer to urge cheering Westerners to let the East Berliners through first.

Fume-spewing East German Trabant cars drove slowly in among rivers of incredulous Berliners. Strangers embraced like long-lost lovers.

The East Berliners discovered a consumer cornucopia in the brightly-lit stores of the West. They could not afford much. But it seemed to me they all bought bananas, a luxury they rarely saw.

"It was like touching a forbidden flame," one East Berliner told me as he walked happily home, knowing a new future had just opened before him.

His sense of wonder made me ask myself what it was I had witnessed that night.

It was the power of freedom, the genuine article.

[ Last edited by  amazed at 12-11-2008 03:31 PM ]

homer_simpson

berlin wall da rntuh.. zionis wall bile lagi:@ :@

amazed

Tembok Berlin dilupakan

MAJORITI remaja di Jerman tidak tahu siapa yang membina Tembok Berlin.



SEMBILAN belas tahun selepas kejatuhan Tembok Berlin, bayangan sejarahnya semakin pudar dalam kalangan remaja di Jerman. Malah, ramai di antara mereka tidak tahu siapa membinanya.

Tembok itu dibina oleh bekas kerajaan komunis Jerman Timur pada tahun 1961. Kejatuhannya pada 9 November 1989 sekali gus membuka jalan untuk penyatuan dua negara Jerman setahun kemudian.

Tetapi hari ini, golongan muda di sana menunjukkan minat yang sedikit untuk memahami sejarah Jerman Timur, menyebabkan ahli politik bimbang tentang risiko kehilangan memori yang dikemukakan untuk proses demokrasi.

"Dari tahun ke tahun, German Democratic Republic (GDR) yang dikenali sebagai komunis Jerman Timur menjadi lebih popular. Ramai kini mengingatinya sebagai negara yang beradab di mana ia penuh dengan pekerjaan," menurut laporan yang dipetik dari akhbar Berliner Kurier baru-baru ini.

"Imej Jerman Timur semakin dilupakan. Terdapat kurang sentuhan kepentingan terhadap peranan yang dimainkan oleh SED (Parti Komunis) atau Stasi (polis rahsia)," kata pakar sains politik, Uwe Hillmer.

"Lebih ramai orang berfikir bahawa Jerman Timur sebagai bukan negara demokrasi mahupun diktator," tambahnya.

Tetapi hakikatnya, sebahagian bekas ahli politik Jerman Timur berpeluang melakukan comeback (kemunculan semula) dengan ramai di antara mereka menyertai parti berhaluan kiri, Die Linke.

RUNTUHNYA Tembok Berlin pada 9 November 1989 membuka jalan untuk penyatuan dua negara Jerman setahun kemudian.

Secara tidak langsung, ia menjadikannya sukar untuk mengakses atau mengetahui sejarah Jerman Timur dengan cara objektif.

Untuk badan kerajaan yang bertanggungjawab memelihara arkib Stasi, Jerman telah memindahkan kepercayaan pada tahun 1990-an bahawa 'tidak semua teruk di Jerman Timur' kepada persoalan 'apa yang sebenarnya amat teruk'?

Tinjauan yang dilakukan baru-baru ini oleh Berlin Free University (FU) turut menjelaskan bagaimana generasi muda tahu mengenai bekas rejim komunis, yang ditubuhkan di timur Jerman oleh rampasan paksaan Soviet selepas Perang Dunia Kedua.

Menurut tinjauan tersebut, sesetengah daripada remaja berusia 15 hingga 17 tahun di timur Jerman, tidak berfikir bahawa GDR adalah kepimpinan diktator. Di barat Jerman pula, anggarannya ialah satu daripada tiga.

Manakala setengah daripada 5,200 kanak-kanak yang mengundi berfikir Stasi dengan mudah menyediakan agensi perisikan biasa dan merupakan mereka yang menghabiskan banyak masa dan usaha mengintip rakyat di rumah.

Malah, tinjauan menunjukkan majoriti pelajar sekolah di Jerman tidak mengetahui bila atau siapa yang membina Tembok Jerman sepanjang 155 kilometer daripada konkrit teguh dan kawat berduri yang merupakan sebahagian 'Tabir Besi' yang menjadi pemisah antara timur dan barat negara itu selama lebih 40 tahun.

Hanya satu daripada tiga penduduk yang menetap di timur mengetahui ia dibina oleh kerajaan GDR sementara yang lain berfikir, ia dibina sama ada oleh Jerman Barat atau sekutunya dari Barat.

Di samping itu, golongan muda juga mempunyai pengetahuan politik yang bercampur-campur dengan suku daripadanya mempercayai bahawa bekas Canselor Jerman Barat, Willy Brandt dikenali kerana polisinya terhadap hubungan ketegangan dengan Timur dan merupakan pemimpin komunis Jerman timur. Malah, berdasarkan tinjauan lain, sebahagiannya berfikir Adolf Hitler mengetuai Jerman Timur.

Mengajar sejarah Jerman moden adalah satu cabaran, terutamanya di wilayah timur Jerman apabila ia bermaksud untuk membincangkan peranan yang dimainkan oleh bekas kerajaan komunis, menurut Hillmer.

"Di beberapa sekolah, sesetengah guru masih berdebat bahawa kepimpinan GDR tidaklah semuanya teruk," ujar Hillmer.

Berdasarkan tinjauan FU, kanak-kanak di selatan Jerman, Bavaria tahu lebih banyak mengenai sejarah Jerman Timur berbanding mereka yang tinggal di negara itu sendiri.

Menurut Hillmer lagi, bukan hanya kanak-kanak yang keliru tetapi orang dewasa juga mempunyai masalah untuk menghargai sejarah lampau.

"Ini kerana sebahagian penduduk kini mempunyai pekerjaan dan rumah sekali gus mahu melupakan aspek kepimpinan diktator parti tersebut."
Kurator muzium GDR, Stefan Wolle menganggap semua itu memeranjatkan seperti mana mereka yang tinggal di Timur apabila setiap hari, mereka berkonfrontasi dengan polis negeri.

"Pihak parti politik sentiasa terlibat dalam hubungan peribadi. Masalah perkahwinan, penceraian, ketagihan alkohol, kesalahan kecil kanak-kanak dan semuanya dibincangkan dalam mesyuarat politik," ujar Wolle dalam artikel yang diterbitkan sebuah akhbar.

Bagi penduduk di Barat, ramai di antara mereka memilih untuk melupakan sejarah lampau Jerman Timur kerana mereka tidak lagi peduli tentangnya. - AFP

amazed

Saturday November 7, 2009
Fall of the wall

By BRENDA BENEDICT

Come Monday Nov 9, Germany celebrates the 20th anniversary of a historical event that not only dismantled physical barriers but reunited a nation.

A chunk of concrete bearing traces of blue, green and black spray paint sits in our office.

But it is not just any piece of concrete. It was once part of a wall that spanned close to 160km. Starting off as a barbed wire fence, it constantly underwent reinforcement and evolved into the infamous Berlin Wall.

The wall was a ‘‘multi-layered security system’’ designed partly to stem the flow of citizens to the west. Its final version boasted ‘‘sections of reinforced concrete of up to 3.6m in height.

It was reinforced by mesh and electrified signal fencing, floodlights, anti-vehicle trenches, barbed wire, dog patrols, over 302 watchtowers and 20 bunkers. And the purported cost of this entire undertaking? Roughly 16,155,000 (former) East German marks or about US$3,638,000.

And, perhaps the lives of everyone affected by its divisive nature.

The soundtrack to my memory of the fall of the Berlin Wall will always remain The Scorpions’ 1989 hit Winds of Change that received much airtime in Malaysia.

In all honesty, my biggest concern then was whether I’d make it through SPM. I was sure I’d bungled my re-sit of the Bahasa Malaysia paper, as the first version we sat for had reportedly been leaked.

Although images of tearful reunions and of people determinedly hacking at the wall moved me, they were just part of a slew of headlines that had included new terms like glasnost, and perestroika, and a man named Mikhail Gorbachev.

Little did I imagine that years later, I’d come to admire the magnificent city where this wall once stood, let alone marry into a family whose fortunes it influenced.

On my first trip to Berlin, I had wanted to see what was left of the Wall. When we finally located its remnants along Bernauer Street, I found it difficult to imagine that this unassuming, graffiti-covered structure once symbolised the Cold War. Although there are approximately only 200m left, special markings made with double rows of cobblestones on the streets help visitors picture how the wall once ran through Germany’s once divided capital.

Amongst many other poignant reminders is one that is located close to the German parliament. A collection of crosses bear pictures and biographies of East Germans who were shot dead by border guards as they attempted to escape to the West.

The wall had, in fact, comprised two barriers with an empty strip of land in between, called the ‘‘death strip’’. This was kept clear of debris so that the East German border guards could easily spot escapees’ footprints in the sand and have an unobstructed view to shoot them. One tragic example is that of 18-year-old Peter Fechter who was shot in the pelvis in 1962. He fell on “no man’s land”, and bled to death despite being in plain sight of helpless West Germans and the press.

Many spectacular escape attempts were made involving underground tunnels, hot air balloons, sewers and aerial wires. One daring escape, though, hits closer to home.

In late October 1956, a group of 17-year-old students of a high school in the Beeskow district, held a five-minute silence to honour those who were killed in a bloody revolution against the communist government in Hungary. The East German regime considered this as an affront to their ideology and immediately set out to identify the ringleader. Despite intense interrogation, none of the students buckled.

They were given an ultimatum — confess or face expulsion and be barred from graduating from any high school in East Germany.

Undaunted, the group decided to flee to the west. Although the wall had not yet been built then, travel barriers to the west had already been imposed. They individually fled via trains, leaving everything behind, including their families whom they had no guarantee of seeing again. The state security (or Stasi) tried luring them back — including sending parents over to the west to encourage their children to return. Meanwhile the West German government, knowing the group’s predicament, allowed them to complete their studies and graduate from high school.

One member of the group was my husband’s uncle, who gave us that chunk off the Wall. In 2006, he published a book entitled Das Schweigende Klassenzimmer (The Silent Classroom) detailing the group’s incredible journey, putting a human face to what most of us know as simply “the Cold War”. His family, including his little sister, my mum-in-law, would also later flee to the west. His book is now being adapted for the silver screen.

Listening to their individual recollections of their escape and of the stringent ‘‘post-Wall’’ border checks they underwent whenever they visited relatives who remained in the east, often gives me goosebumps. If anything, I can better understand the euphoria on the faces of those who scaled and hacked at the Wall on that night of Nov 9, 1989.

This upcoming Monday marks the 20th anniversary of that momentous event. While large-scale celebrations have been planned nationwide, I’m assuming many more will be rejoicing inwardly, not just because the wall came tumbling down, but because its fall signified the rebuilding of lives and families and, to an extent, a nation.

dexa

Two decades after it fell, the Berlin Wall is still drawing visitors
and chilling them with a reminder of the Cold War

dexa

Sunday November 8, 2009
‘Let’s go!’
By Dr TORSTEN SCHAAR

A former East German who was among the first to cross into the West when the Berlin Wall fell in 1989 shares his story.

THE summer of 1989 was exciting and full of trepidation at the same time. As a young student of 25 in East Berlin, my friends and I were caught up in the meetings, protests and peaceful demonstrations that were taking place every single day. People were openly demanding for the freedom to travel, to speak their minds, to form political parties, to have different opinions.

The air was filled with uncertainty. We sensed something was going to happen. But we didn’t know what and we had no idea when. Would things turn bloody? Tiananmen had just happened. (The seven week-long Tiananmen Square anti-government protests in Beijing in 1989 left hundreds dead.)

I was researching my PhD in Potsdam and sharing an apartment with friends. I think everyone was keenly aware of what was happening. The situation was getting tense, crowds kept swelling in the streets. There was a very real possibility of violence.

Yet the ruling party was paralysed. They couldn’t admit their mistakes or embrace change, even as Hungary, Poland and Czechoslovakia were opening their borders.

And then came Nov 9. We caught the press conference. I believed Gunter Schabowski (a member of the ruling party who mistakenly made the announcement about borders being opened) said the borders would be closed again so we went to sleep that night not realising what was happening.

Early in the morning, the news came that the border guards at Bornholmer Strasse (Street) had given in to people’s demands to be let through. We were stunned and immediately we said, “Let’s go!”

It was incredible. There were thousands of people queuing up to go through the checkpoint. They were in work clothes, in uniforms, there were students, the elderly, everyone came. Rumours flew back and forth: we’d be turned back, they’d changed their minds, we needed a visa, a passport....

But all the guards did was quickly stamp my pass and I continued walking. I heard later they just stopped stamping passes because it was pointless.

It was a surreal moment for me as I was walking through the strip of land between the Walls. I did my national service from 1983 to 1985 patrolling the inner Wall to keep people out. And now, here I was, walking over a piece of land that all my life I’d been told was impenetrable.

When we got across to the West, a huge party greeted us. It was euphoric. People just came and hugged us, gave us champagne, and told us which bank had the shortest queue to collect our deutsche mark 100.

The first thing my girlfriend and I did was to run into a bookstore. I was researching Adolph Hitler and WWII for my thesis and we had limited books in East Berlin. There were endless titles available in the West. Then we went to the great shopping streets we’d heard about, like Kurfürstendamm and the KaDeWe shopping mall. We went straight to the food hall on the sixth floor to look at the exotic imported foods.

The choices they had! While we hadn’t gone hungry in the East, we never had the luxury of choice. We bought imported chocolates and coffees with whatever was left of our deutsche marks.

Everything was different! Even the air in West Germany smelt different – their vehicles used unleaded fuel then.

After the euphoria settled, though, came the hard realities. I grew up in a divided city. I had never regarded West Germany as my country. We’d always been taught since young that the Wall protected us from very possible aggression from the West and the Allies. Of course, as we grew older, we realised that it was to keep us in, to stop us from emigrating. Over 20% of our citizens had already left by 1961 (when the Wall went up), and most were educated professionals and skilled workers. The Wall was a drastic measure to contain people from leaving.

Life improved, of course. We had freedom of speech, freedom of movement, and free and fair elections. There were many positive developments. We had access to very advanced infrastructure. But all that came at a price.

After the Wall fell, many people lost their jobs overnight. Factories closed. Entire industries collapsed. We faced new phenomena, like drugs flooding in. Our way of life changed overnight. We believed we had traded a political dictator for another form of dictatorship – money.

Earlier this year, a survey revealed that 57% of former East Germans believe that life was better before the Wall came down. There was social security; everyone had a job. There was a strong sense of comradeship and solidarity. Now, people have the “elbow” mentality; we jostle others aside for what’s “me and mine”.

I was lucky I only lost a job; others had suffered bigger losses. After my university studies I was supposed to lecture at the University of Rostock. But departments closed down and professors were sacked for dubious reasons, like close ties with the party, and there were ugly incidents and a lot of real hatred between the former halves of the city.

And till today, there is a certain stigma about people from East Germany. We have lower salaries and pensions. The West seems to feel it needs to teach us things because its people are superior to us. We’re seen as having been suppressed and oppressed.

It’s true that many East Germans suffered for their religious and political beliefs, but the majority of people lived normal lives. And the role of the secret police has been overplayed! While we had to be careful of our speech, we never had to look over our shoulders all the time.

For the younger generation, the Berlin Wall exists as a story told to them by their parents and teachers. They have no emotional attachment at all. Some merely have nostalgic feelings. To Germans like me, the Berlin Wall is a symbol of a historical period that really began during WWII. And there will always be a little of the Berlin Wall in our hearts and minds even after 20 years.

dexa

..quite interesting  to read stories about the fall of berlin wall -
i still remember story about the fall of the wall in 1989 -  a historical moment  -