44 TheEconomistNovember 2nd 2019
1
O
n november 9th 1989, as the Berlin
Wall tumbled, Hans-Joachim Binder
was on night shift at the potash mine in
Bischofferode, a village in the communist-
ruled German Democratic Republic. Mr
Binder, a maintenance worker who had
toiled in the mine for 17 years, had no idea
of the momentous events unfolding
240km (150 miles) to the east. The first sign
something was up was when most of his
colleagues disappeared to investigate what
was happening at the border with West
Germany, just ten minutes’ drive away.
Only three returned to complete their shift.
Less than a year later Germany was re-
united, capping one of the most extraordi-
nary stories in modern history. Not only
had a communist dictatorship collapsed,
releasing 16m people from the fear of the
Stasi (secret police) and the stultification of
censorship. Unlike any other country ever
freed from tyranny, the entire population
of East Germany was given citizenship of a
big, rich democracy. As a grand, if ill-fated,
gesture of welcome the West German chan-
cellor, Helmut Kohl, converted some of
their worthless savings into hard currency
at the preposterously generous exchange
rate of one Deutschmark to one Ostmark.
More than 1m Ossies took advantage of
their new freedom by moving to the West,
where most thrived. Official statistics no
longer counted this group—who were dis-
proportionally young, clever, female and
ambitious—as East Germans. For those
who stayed behind, however, the 30 years
since the fall of the wall have been a mix of
impressive progress, often taken for grant-
ed, and sour disappointment.
A price to pay
The harm wrought by four decades of op-
pression and indoctrination could not be
undone overnight. But a people brought up
in a society where initiative was ruthlessly
crushed had to adapt suddenly to the rig-
ours of capitalism. Unsurprisingly, many
could not. Mr Binder was laid off. So were
hundreds of thousands of others who pre-
viously toiled in safe, dreary and unpro-
ductive state-backed jobs. Despite at-
tempts to save it, including large protests
and a hunger strike, the potash mine was
shut down—one of 8,500 companies in the
east privatised or liquidated by the Treu-
hand, a new government agency. Mr Binder
bounced around in odd jobs for a while,
eventually winding up on Hartz IV, the
stingiest of Germany’s unemployment
benefits, where he languishes today. Like
many East German women, his wife re-
trained and left for a job in the west. Asked
how he feels about the reunification of his
country, he shrugs. “My safe job was gone.
For me, the gdrcould have carried on.”
There was no manual to guide the ab-
sorption of east into west. The policies that
failed people like Mr Binder were always
going to be subject to fierce dispute. The
surprise, as Germany approaches the 30th
anniversary of the fall of the Wall, is the
speed with which these debates have
roared back into the public sphere. News-
papers and magazines are full of reassess-
ments of the Wiedervereinigung(reunifica-
tion); westerners are lapping up memoirs
and polemics by eastern authors. Never be-
fore has Germany debated its reunification
with such vigour. Why?
Many observers say the debate grew
louder three or four years ago. The most ob-
vious explanation is therefore the migrant
crisis of 2015-16. Petra Köpping, the integra-
tion minister in Saxony, one of the five
eastern states established at reunification,
says that when she tried to explain to her
constituents why the state was helping ref-
ugees, some replied: “Integrate us first!”
Many easterners resented the resources be-
ing devoted to help newcomers when they
felt left behind. They also disliked the la-
belling of their complaints as racist.
But the refugee crisis merely triggered a
East Germany
Thirty years after the Wall fell
BERLIN, BISCHOFFERODE AND LEIPZIG
Germans still don’t agree on what reunification meant
Europe
47 EasternEurope, 30 yearson
48 Charlemagne: The magnetic field
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