As many people were skeptical of democracy due to its Weimar failure, its acceptance depended upon the FRG’s performance in overcoming the postwar chaos. Initially the victor powers, helped by the United Nations Relief and Reconstruction Agency and the Red Cross, tried to deal with the masses of DPs, KZ survivors, and German refugees. But after 1949 coping with the many victims of the war on top of the rebuilding became a challenge for the fledgling FRG. The government had to take care of tens of thousands of late-returning POWs (Spätheimkehrer) who needed medical help and assistance with reintegration into civilian lives. Similarly, millions of expellees from the East had to be distributed equitably between the federal states, while hundreds of thousands of refugees from the GDR needed to be absorbed as well. With a system of transit camps including Friedland and Marienfelde, the government sought to register and process the needy, offering housing, food, and job assistance.65
In wise foresight, the Federal Republic set up special programs such as the Equalization of Burdens Law to help those people who had had an especially hard time in the war. “Immediate help grants” in 1949 mitigated the worst suffering of veterans and orphans “to tide them over.” As part of a wider integration strategy, resettlement assistance was a “generous and farsighted government policy which largely resolved the postwar expellee and refugee problem.” Even more important was the permanent burden-sharing program instituted in 1952, which compensated expellees “sufficiently to equip their households, start new businesses and receive loans for purchasing property.” Its funds were raised by taxing those Germans whose wealth had survived the war unscathed. While Ursula Mahlendorf got only a small scholarship, Karl Härtel eventually received several thousand DM as compensation. Because it succeeded in helping those in special need, “the Equalization of Burdens Law was one of the eminent social achievements of the West German state.”66
The restitution payment to Holocaust victims was another effort that showed that the FRG had accepted moral responsibility for the suffering caused in Germany’s name. In 1952 the Adenauer government decided to pay three billion DM to the state of Israel and additional millions to survivors as a symbolic gesture and practical help. Individuals had to file claims in person for their lost properties, ruined businesses, and broken careers, a humiliating bureaucratic process that sought to ascertain the amount of damage. Ruth Klüger’s mother was too proud or afraid to travel to the FRG in order to apply. But Peter Gay’s parents did not “object to these payments. For them, they were not blood money but funds owed.” While some victims, such as Lucy Mandelstam, got a one-time sum, others like the Gompertz parents, “received a monthly check as pension and German Social Security, which, of course, made their life in the US easier but in no way compensated for what they had lost in fleeing Germany.”67
Such acts of symbolic contrition also helped many émigrés to deal with the ambivalent memories of their German background. Some Jewish victims, such as Albert Gompertz, so successfully reinvented themselves as Americans that they shed virtually all traces of their prior existence. But other ethnic German emigrants kept in contact through letters and visits. Composer Gerhard Krapf even persuaded nurse Gertrud Lichti in a touching transatlantic courtship to become his future wife. The specialists in German language, literature and history (for example, Ruth Klüger and her sometime-husband Tom Angress) returned intermittently to Central Europe for their academic research. Even more prominent intellectuals such as George L. Mosse and Fritz Stern, involved themselves actively in the construction of a critical memory culture and the democratization of the Federal Republic.68 While public efforts at atonement could never undo the suffering caused by the Nazi crimes, they could begin a difficult process of reconciliation.
Proud of their success in rebuilding a devastated country, the adults born in the 1920s were surprised by the generational revolt of the late sixties, which seemed to call all of their achievements into question. Many of them were already too old to participate in a movement driven by their own children. Only some leftist intellectuals such as Dorothee Sölle—who was deeply ashamed of the Nazi past and opposed to West German rearmament—sympathized with the youth revolt. Blaming the conflict on US neocolonialism, she recalled that “an important part of my development from a liberal to a radical-democratic socialist took place in the context of the Vietnam war.” While she admired the Quakers, the US intervention in Southeast Asia “made me realize for the first time, what kind of country it was under whose domination we lived.” Considering the student movement a wonderful mobilization of many like-minded protesters, she organized a series of “extra-parliamentary, interconfessional” evening prayers that gradually evolved into a fundamental opposition of the FRG.69
Most of the Weimar cohort viewed the youth rebellion skeptically as a loss of order and discipline. Though rather apolitical, Ursula Baehrenburg noticed a “spirit of aggression and destruction” in her school, in which the older pupils terrorized the younger ones. “Free love began in the faculty. Most marriages broke up. Young teachers who came from the universities wanted to change society through the education of the children.” She despised the smoking, beer drinking, and pot parties of the teachers and pupils. Even “among some of the little ones an unchildlike arrogance and obscene expressions appeared” that she had never noticed before. On her daily trips to and from school in a Frankfurt suburb she worried about being caught in clashes between the police and demonstrators. “Young colleagues saw my generation suddenly as Nazis and cursed us” without understanding its postwar achievements. She therefore concluded “that from this time on the FRG has changed for the worse” due to a new “egotism, elbow mentality, and irresponsibility.”70
More liberal spirits were more sympathetic toward the sixty-eighters’ reform demands, even if they were the prime targets of the rebellion. The Weimar children who were already in their forties experienced the youth revolt as a midlife crisis in which their marriages foundered. Political science professor Martin Greiffenhagen encountered student radicalism as, above all, an intolerant call for using Marxist approaches, emphasizing “economic or class dependencies” in analysis. The entire language was changing, for “radical feminists demanded an emancipatory grammar.” He experienced the change to a looser style of academic discourse as liberating, but the assumption of equality between professors and students struck him as silly. Some aspects of the “value change,” such as the emphasis on “self-realization,” were overdue, but the habitual “violations of bourgeois discipline” rather irksome. Although one of his student opponents became Greiffenhagen’s second wife in a partnership marriage, he “did not long for the decade of departure and upheaval.”71
One positive result of the youth revolt was the formation of a set of “new social movements” that ultimately coalesced into the Green Party. “During the 1970s more and more people realized how important it was to preserve the resources of the soil and of nature and to save the environment,” Gisela Grothus recalled. “We participated from the beginning. We thought that much in our immediate surroundings could be improved.” She and her husband got involved because “the Greens want to be ‘ecological, grass roots democratic, nonviolent [and] social,’” things that appealed to them. Horst “was a member from the first day on,” while Gisela worked for the cause without joining. “During the first years, when all members were still guided by their ideals, we discussed ‘the state of the world’ harmoniously and formulated solutions to its many problems.” But once some Green representatives were elected, the city councilors no longer listened to grass-roots demands. When the party later decided to send German soldiers as peacekeepers to Kosovo in the Balkans, Horst resigned.72
Propelled by memories of World War II, the preservation of peace during the nuclear arms race of the Cold War was another key issue of civic mobilization. Dorothee Sölle experienced the 1979 NATO decision to station intermediate-range missiles in West Germany “as one of the blackest days of German postwar history,” for “I cou
ld no longer live in a country with bombs.” She therefore tried “to organize resistance” through a “broad, comprehensive, center-to-left movement against militarism.” The slogan “if you don’t fight back, you make a mistake!” was designed to overcome citizens’ feeling of impotence. Inspired by her theological understanding of the Bible, Sölle called for “radical forms of civil disobedience against the militarist state” through “nonviolent illegality.” Though the protest was able to rouse over three hundred thousand concerned citizens to demonstrate in Bonn, the peace movement failed to prevent the stationing of missiles in the FRG. But it did articulate a widespread pacifism that later on inspired the German reluctance to join in the Gulf Wars.73
Another important cause was the campaign for women’s equality, which sought to end the domination of an often-violent patriarchy. Instead of submitting to male control, many young women shared Ursula Baehrenburg’s desire “to be a loving wife, but to maintain my independence and freedom.” Realizing “how much women were disadvantaged in almost all societal areas compared to men,” Gisela Grothus made feminist causes “the center of her future social engagement.” With other activists, she founded a women’s shelter in her home town of Dorsten in 1983 in order “to protect battered women and their children from further violence. And then their independence should be strengthened, so that they can make their own decisions.” Starting with a small apartment, her group gradually expanded the shelter into a real house, hired social workers, gained municipal support, and became a refuge for about two thousand abused women and 2,800 children during its first twenty-five years. The approach of offering “help for self-help” proved amazingly successful.74
Other feminist activities set out to change social consciousness and make “women’s equality a matter of course in daily life.” For instance, Gisela Grothus inspired the foundation of a women’s forum as a pressure group that would allow those “interested in the situation of women to meet, articulate problems, and initiate measures of improvement.” This discussion circle tried to make discrimination publicly visible, strengthen “female solidarity,” and launch other activities to help women. One method was to raise awareness of the subtle gender discrimination in children’s books (image 25). Another was the creation of a “women’s café” as a meeting place that would provide a “public space in which we can exchange our daily experiences, stimulate and inform each other.” The flyer announced: “We don’t want to be the silent losers of this society, but rather develop confidence and trust in our achievements and abilities.” The agitation of the group succeeded in getting the city to appoint an “equal opportunity officer” as watchdog and initiator of further activities such as “women’s culture days.”75
25. Feminist activism. Source: Gisela Grothus, “Mein Leben.”
The third dimension of civil society engagement was environmental activism, both in fighting pollution and in providing nature protection. Shocked by the exploitation of resources in Brazil, Hans-Gerd Neglein moved to Andalusia after coordinating the German participation in the 1992 Seville Expo and bought a finca of about seven hundred acres in order to conduct biologically based agriculture, animal husbandry, and forestry. His biggest challenge was the recurring drought, which he fought by creating several impoundments. The local populace was convinced that “this German is loco.” But torrential rains finally came and quickly filled his ponds, allowing him to irrigate his land without depleting the groundwater. In order to address the problem beyond his own farm, he created the foundation Monte Mediterraneo to promote the reforestation of the entire region, which also benefited local wildlife. After decades of merciless managerial competition, which had ruined his first two marriages, this ecological commitment and a new partnership finally brought him peace. He wrote in his memoir, “Never in my life have I been as contented and happy as today.”76
These new social movements also strengthened civil society engagement in other areas where reforms were needed, but to which the political authorities were paying too little attention. From the late 1960s on Gisela and Horst Grothus sponsored numerous “projects in which we are not only spectators or visitors but rather become actively involved.” They started with traditional charity initiatives such as looking after a couple of truant working-class youths in order to keep them out of jail and organizing a Christmas Eve party for the homeless. In the wake of the youth rebellion, the couple also pleaded for strengthening school self-government and for creating a center that would improve apprentice training. In order to increase the literacy of underprivileged children, Horst initiated a twice-weekly reading program in which volunteers read stories aloud. He also helped found a playgroup for Turkish toddlers to help them learn the German language. Such initiatives sought to address specific problem areas in a piecemeal fashion.77
Over several decades, the growth of public involvement created a civil society infrastructure that helped to solidify the second German democracy. In contrast to the Nazi and SED repression, people were initially happy if “politics played no role at all” so they could pursue their careers and private lives. Hence they were willing to put up with Adenauer’s authoritarian style and the paternalism of the bureaucracy. Only the trade unions and the SPD protested for higher wages and against rearmament. But during the 1960s a critical public sphere developed that encouraged youths to rebel with mass demonstrations and to demand more substantial changes. The social-liberal coalition under Willy Brandt responded to this challenge with the call “to dare more democracy,” which promised internal reform. When welfare state expansion failed to address problems such as the environment, critical spirits founded a series of new social movements during the 1970s.78 Propelled by the postwar cohort, these successive pressures managed to reform and broaden a reluctant FRG.
The surprising overthrow of the SED dictatorship in 1989 seemed to confirm the West German choice of liberal democracy and market economy. Most Westerners had little interest in the GDR, unless they had fled from there or still had relatives on the other side of the Iron Curtain. The Ministry of All-German Affairs continued to sponsor school trips to Berlin, while the June 17 holiday commemoration of the GDR uprising reminded the FRG citizens rhetorically of their less-fortunate “brothers and sisters in the East.” But the gap between the two successor states had grown so wide that Westerners could merely observe the mass exodus, growth of demonstrations, and fall of the Wall with sympathetic interest. Only when Eastern relatives in their unfashionable clothes and funny cars arrived on their doorsteps did they have to confront the enormous task of reunification. Pondering the GDR’s lack of success, Horst Grothus concluded, “Socialism has always failed, since it contradicts more important needs of human beings, which appear to be better satisfied in other social systems.”79
SUCCESS STORIES
When reflecting on their adult lives, most memoirists have represented their experiences as a successful mastery of difficult challenges. Some ceased reporting with the postwar years, when their life lost its drama and normalized, “which is the reason why it is not worth writing about.” Those who continued their story through the subsequent decades emphasized the contrast between their war-induced struggles for survival and their increasing postwar success. “When I looked back on the years that went by since the end of the war,” Hans Tausch reminisced, “I had to admit that many things turned out to be better than I had dared to expect.” Due to the division of labor, the narratives are once again gendered, with men emphasizing their professional advancement and increasing prosperity and women their families and personal happiness. While most of the accounts ignore politics, they implicitly concede that West Germany’s “free democratic order” created a supportive framework for their professional achievements and private satisfaction.80
Male writers have portrayed their career success as a product of hard work, intellectual acuity, and ability to seize an opportunity. The autobiographies are full of outward indicators that signal professional achievement. Some authors, suc
h as Horst Andrée, stressed their advancement through the ranks to positions of influence. Others, like Gerhard Baucke, emphasized increasing prosperity, commenting that “it was almost scary how fortune was spoiling me.” Still others, including Robert Neumaier, reported on the positive reception of their books and articles. Consultants such as Horst Grothus described their international travels so as to demonstrate the popularity of their work. Almost all of them, like Hellmut Raschdorff, wrote about building houses, buying cars, and taking exciting vacations. Reaffirming the credo of the Economic Miracle, these narratives follow a plotline of great effort and intense struggle that rewarded the authors with their subsequent prosperity. The common tenor of these retrospectives is gratitude for “the great richness of my life to this point.”81
Accounts by female authors follow a different pattern that is centered on family and personal relationships. Some writers, including Edith Schöffski, described work outside the home with pride in their competence. Others reported resenting being confined to the domestic sphere and then engaging in charitable work, like Gisela Grothus. But all wrote extensively about their parents and siblings, first describing how they emancipated themselves from their tutelage and later also reflecting on how they took care of their failing health. Most of these narratives focus on the task of finding the right partner, which was not at all easy, as Ursula Baehrenburg found out, for she wanted more than a physical relationship. The narrators described their marriages in great detail and reported with much satisfaction on the growth of their children. Of course, men also mentioned their personal relations and gratitude for the appropriate spouses. But it was women such as Anneliese Huber who articulated the maternalist message: “My happiness was solely the joy of a love fulfilled.”82
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