From East Germans to Germans? | Geli ober ididegede biel iin ei pris iii ad sini neieN| ‘The New Postcommunnist Eli leg Jennifer A. Yoder From East Germans to Germans? Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2021 with funding from Duke University Libraries https://archive.org/details/fromeastgermanst01yode From East Germans to Germans? The New Postcommunist Elites Jennifer A. Yoder DUKE UNIVERSITY PRESS Durham and London 1999 © 1999 Duke University Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper Typeset in Melior by Keystone Typesetting, Inc. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data appear on the last printed page of this book. Contents List of Tables vii Acknowledgments ix Introduction 1 1 Elite Building afterCommunism 17 2 Political Culture and Leadership under Communism: GDR Socialization 41 3 East German Leadership in the Revolutionary Year 1989-1990: Elite Circulation 61 4 The Transition to Democracy in East Germany: Transplant and Elite Replacement 85 5 Developing FRG Politicians: Horizontal Integration 113 6 Elites and the Masses in Postcommunist Germany: Vertical Integration 155 7 Transplanting Democracy: The Consequences for Elite Building and Integration 197 Appendix A: The Interview Study 223 Appendix B: Political Parties before and after German Unification 229 Appendix C: Civic Groups in the GDRin 1989 231 Notes 235 Bibliography 263 Index 279 List of Tables 3.1 Results of the March 18, 1990, Volkskammer Election 74 4.1 Circulation of East German Legislators,1990 96 4.2 State Election Results in East Germany, by Party, 1990 (percentage of vote) 97 4.3 Occupational Structure of Legislators in Three East German States, 1990-1998 100 4.4 Political Career Paths of Eastern State Legislators 104 5.1 Age Structure of Legislators in Three East German States, by Party, 1990-1994 and 1994-1998 117 5.2 Gender Balance among Legislators in Three East German States, 1990-1994 and 1994-1998 by Number (percent) 118 5.3 Conceptions of Democracy among Eastern and Western State Legislators, 1991-1992 125 5.4 Acceptability of Old Elites among Legislators in the State of Brandenburg, 1994 138 6.1 Trust in Institutions in Eastern and Western Germany, 1991 and1992 158 6.2 Comparison of Party Leadership Positions of Eastern and Western Legislators, 1991-1992 and 1994 166 6.3 Legislators in Eastern and Western Germany in 1995 with Institutional Contacts, by Party (percentage) 167 viii List of Tables 6.4 Class Voting by Party in Western and Eastern Germany, 1990 (percentage of class) 169 6.5 Voter Turnout in Eastern Germany for State and Federal Elections (percentage) 178 6.6 Party Membership (and percentage change) in Eastern and Western Germany 180 6.7. Federal Election Results in Eastern Germany, by Party, 1990 and 1994 (percentage of vote) 182 6.8 State Election Results in Eastern Germany, by Party, 1990 and 1994 (percentage of vote) 183 7.1 Degree of Support forthe FRG System 208 Acknowledgments I would like to express my gratitude to the institutions that supported me and this project in many ways. Colby College generously provided re- search support, including an Interdisciplinary Studies Division Grant that allowed me to travel to Germany in the summer of 1997 to complete this study. Iam especially grateful to the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung in Germany, which granted me a year-long doctoral research fellowship in Germany in 1993-94. Without the support of that organization, this project would not have been possible. Additional support for this project was provided by a German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD) summer grant to attend a re- search seminar on German unification at the University of California, Berkeley in 1992 and by a DAAD/American Institute for Contemporary German Studies (AICGS) grant and summer-in-residence at the AICGS in Washington, D.C., in 1995. Finally, I want to acknowledge the support of the Fulbright Commission for allowing me to spend the historic year 1989-90 studying in the Federal Republic of Germany. I am also grateful to the many individuals in Germany, too numerous to name here, who generously gave their time and assistance to me as I re- searched this book in 1993—94 and 1997. I owe special thanks to the many members of the Landtage in Brandenburg, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, and Thiiringen, who made time in their busy schedules to meet with me, graciously answered my many questions, and kindly shared their experi- ences and insights as participants in the transition from communism. I would especially like to thank state legislators Lothar Kliesch of Branden- burg and Professor Gerhard Poppei of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern for tak- x Acknowledgments ing so much time to show me around their towns and to describe the changes in their communities over the past ten years. My warm thanks also go to Valerie Millholland, editor at Duke Univer- sity Press, for her interest in my work, and copyeditor Maura High for her superb editing job. At Colby College, students Christine Vaughn, Jennifer Mason, and Kerry West provided me with valuable assistance in preparing the manuscript for publication. I am also deeply grateful to Vladimir Tismaneanu of the University of Maryland at College Park for his support of this project since its inception in 1990 and for his thoughtful profes- sional advice. Finally, I want to thank my family for supporting me in so many ways. In particular, I want to thank my husband, Greg, for his moral support, pa- tience, and encouragement of this book project. It is to him that I dedicate this book. Introduction Nearly a decade after the fall of the Berlin Wall, much is known about the process of political system change, from communist structures, norms, and procedures to democratic ones. In contrast, relatively little is known about the adjustment of political beliefs and behaviors, or culture and identity, to the changed circumstances. Yet it is precisely the realm of beliefs and behaviors upon which the survival of a democratic system ultimately depends. This book draws our attention back to this most fun- damental aspect of postcommunist political development in the case of eastern Germany. It explores the variables that affect cultural adjustment and the consequences of this process for German politics and society. Postcommunist eastern Germany offers a particularly interesting study of political change and adjustment. Here, system change went beyond the institutional realm—from communist to democratic structures—and en- tailed the disappearance of the East German state, the German Democratic Republic (GDR), and the absorption of its territory and citizens into the West German state, the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG). This unusual type of system change raises important questions about the process and outcomes of cultural adjustment. To what extent do attitudes and be- haviors conform to the new arrangements, loyalties change from the GDR to the FRG, and identities shift from East German to German? With what ease or difficulty do such adjustments occur? Do they happen all at once, or in a particular sequence? If they occur slowly, unevenly, or incom- pletely, what are the consequences for political and social stability in unified Germany? Why might some people be more apt to adapt to the new 2 Introduction institutions, culture, and identity than others, and does this have any impact on social and political system stability? Finally, what role does western Germany play in this process? Has the west merely provided a model system and culture, allowing the East Germans to adjust at their own rate and according to their own tastes and preferences, or have west- ern political actors played a more active role in the postcommunist adjust- ment process, attempting to influence the pace and outcomes of adjust- ment in the east? In an effort to investigate these questions, I consider an important sub- group of the eastern German population: the new state parliamentarians. The experiences of this group in the new system provide a window onto the larger process and outcomes of political cultural adjustment in post- communist society. Furthermore, as elected leaders and examples for the eastern German public, the adjustment experiences of this group have significant consequences for political life in the east and, ultimately, for unified Germany. With that in mind, linvestigate the development of postcommunist elites in the east, analyzing several variables suchas the elites’ backgrounds, their path to politics, and their training within the new institutional setting. The analysis reveals a range of different adjustment experiences among the new state parliamentarians and considers the consequences of these differences for political development in the east. As an introduction to the study, we can consider the following three composite portraits, which are reflective of important patterns of postcommunist elite development in Germany. In 1985, Konrad L.! was a citizen of GDR and lifelong resident of the small town of Forstenburg, seventy kilometers north of the capital city of “the socialist state of workers and peasants,” East Berlin. Konrad L. was mar- ried with three small children. He and his wife were both math teachers at a local secondary school. He was not, nor had he ever been, a member of the Socialist Unity Party (Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands, SED), the East German communist party, or of the so-called national front parties that were allied with the SED. He may not have enjoyed the priv- ileges that come with party membership, but he and his family lived a decent life in Forstenburg. He did not pay much attention to politics; it was not something he could influence, even if he wanted to. He knew the party leaders “up there” did not answer to the people “down here.” He did not dare to speak out against the regime—he had heard what hardships such disagreement could bring to a person and his family, for example, harassment by secret police, trou- 3 ble at work, even jail. Rather than fight a losing battle, he preferred quiet evenings and weekends with his family, taking walks in the woods, or working in his garden plot. He, his family, and his friends in the commu- nity and at work all believed life in the GDR would continue much the same for many years to come. Although he may have occasionally dis- agreed privately with the authoritarian style of the political leadership or disbelieved the official claims about the GDR’s economy and strength vis- a-vis the democratic-capitalist FRG, he remained silent, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He never imagined that, in a few years, the regime would collapse as a result of mass protest or that their country would disappear and he would become a citizen of the FRG. Four years later, in the autumn of 1989, Konrad L. and his family and friends watched intently the West German news reports of mass demon- strations of East Germans in East Berlin and Leipzig. He looked on in amazement as Erich Honecker stepped down after eighteen years as leader of the GDR. All across the GDR, including in his small town, people began to organize political discussion groups and to found new political parties. The bloc parties, which were subordinate to the ruling communist party, abandoned the SED national front and began to ally with their West German sister parties. Events happened at a dizzying pace. Soon demonstrators across the GDR began calling for one Germany, replacing the chant “We are the people” with “We are one people.” Konrad L. was excited by the idea of eventual unification. He looked forward to seeing places that for decades had been forbidden to him. At that moment, however, his attention was on the many changes occurring in his community. He decided to join one of the new parties, the Social Democrats, because he felt that there was fi- nally an opportunity to participate in political life in a meaningful way; at no other time in his life were the chances for real change so great, and at no other time were there so many complex and significant decisions for cit- izens to make about their own future. “I simply could not remain a passive observer, so I decided to participate in the changes at the local level.” Plans for unification proceeded quickly, with formal unification scheduled for October 3, 1990, and new, state and all-German federal elections sched- uled for October 14, 1990, and December 2, 1990, respectively. Soon lead- ers of the Social Democrats (now merged with the West German party and receiving advice from West German party managers) approached Herr L. and asked him if he would be a candidate in the upcoming state par- liamentary elections. The party leaders wanted to recruit people with “clean” pasts; that is, without positions in the party or state hierarchy and, preferably, without past party involvement at all. Moreover, Konrad L. was 4 Introduction attractive to party leaders because, as a teacher, he was familiar to the people in the community. Konrad L. was hesitant at first. “What did I know about politics? I had no idea what the new state parliament was supposed to do.” His family and friends urged him to accept the nomina- tion, arguing that after years of seeing the same faces in political office and feeling as though politicians were far removed from the people, the com- munity needed an “everyday person” such as himself to represent them in the new political institutions. He accepted the nomination and soon found himself a member of the state parliament, the Landtag, of the newly re- founded state of Brandenburg. Although he knew nothing about parlia- mentary procedures or party organization, he was eager to learn (and learn he did—“every evening I studied FRG laws and regulations”) and hopeful that he and his new legislative colleagues could guide their state through the difficult transition process. His first four years in the state parliament were a learning experience— in FRG laws, parliamentary procedure, party discipline, and political campaigning. These years also entailed learning a new political discourse, new styles of communication and argumentation, and the skills of public relations. Like most of the members of the eastern Landtage, he had a western German legislative aide who helped him wade through the com- plexities of the legislative process, as did the western press secretaries and other party advisors who made sure that parliamentarians’ public state- ments were polished and reflective of the party goals and image. By the end of the 1990—94 legislative term, however, Konrad L. lost much of his earlier enthusiasm and optimism that he could make a difference in poli- tics. He felt that many of the ideas he brought to parliament were quickly lost in the mountain of legislation that needed to be passed to guide the new state institutions. Moreover, it seemed that individuals’ contributions were soon overshadowed by the agenda of the party. Work in the Landtag became routine. The creativity and spirit of cooperation that pervaded the early years of the transition faded almost completely by the end of the first legislative period. The rich cross-party discussions of the first two years in parliament, about making a contribution to FRG democracy and about bringing citizens closer to the political decision-making process, gave way to a highly partisan and bureaucratic style of politics. “It is unfortunate... but the ‘Bonn style’ of politics—all elbows and profiling for the press— developed here too.” He regretted this development, because he and his colleagues “missed an opportunity to improve politics” in their country. Moreover, he regretted the lack of time spent in his home district: since his election in 1990, work in the provincial capital of Brandenburg, Potsdam, 5 occupied most of his time. There was precious little time for meeting with his constituents at home or for spending time with his family. Surely public office demands that one make sacrifices, but this was particularly difficult for Konrad L., knowing that his family and members of his com- munity confronted profound adjustments in almost every dimension of their daily lives. Back in Forstenburg, the many changes have taken an emotional toll, straining friendships and family relations. For Konrad L., the adjustment has been somewhat easier: he has many opportunities to travel, meet new people, and learn new ideas. Moreover, his new role in politics puts him in the foreground of the changes, giving him a sense of purpose and empowerment that many of his friends and relatives at home cannot share. Rather than feeling they are participants in the new system, many people feel they are once again passive observers. Today, Konrad L. does not regret his decision to enter politics. He does not, however, foresee a career in politics—perhaps only one more term. Running for national office is out of the question because in his opinion, “the federal government in Bonn is too out of touch with what is happen- ing in the east.” Moreover, eastern politicians, as only one-fifth of the elected political representatives, have little chance of influencing politics on a national level, especially considering “the tight ‘old-boy network’ of Bonn politics.” Besides, Konrad L. believes that he should make room for others to participate in politics. Most importantly perhaps, he does not see himself as a career politician. He remains “first and foremost a family man and a teacher.” Despite his reservations about a political career, Konrad L. believes that it is time he and his colleagues in the east brought more influence to bear on politics in the new Germany. At first he and his eastern colleagues were newcomers to politics (“greenhorns,” as he says) and relied on western colleagues for guidance. Now, they are capable of guiding themselves. Over the last several years, it has become evident that some of the established ways of conducting politics and policy prescrip- tions of the west are not the most appropriate for the east, especially where employment, subsidies of certain sectors such as agriculture, or relating to the public are concerned. “We’re making politics for Brandenburgers and that requires Brandenburg solutions!” Ulrich S. lost his father in the war. In 1945, he, his two younger siblings, and his widowed mother left their home in Silesia and moved westward to what is today the eastern state of Thiiringen. In those immediate postwar years, the Catholic Church helped his family, providing clothing and food. His mother instilled in him a strong commitment to Christian values, although they never attended church regularly. Growing up in a small 6 Introduction town outside of Weimar, Ulrich attended a vocational school where he earned a degree in mining engineering. When he was eighteen years old, he joined one of the bloc parties allied with the communist party of the GDR. He did so, in part, out of respect for the Christian tradition that the party historically associated itself with, and also to preempt the inevitable pressure one felt to join the communist party. Ulrich observed the disadvantages that came with abstaining from party membership: his older colleagues at work who long refused to join a party were passed over for promotions and awards, and their children were often refused places at the university or jobs in certain professions. Ulrich was not particularly politically motivated, but he saw bloc party member- ship as a small price to pay to gain a bit of room for maneuverability. Ulrich quickly made friends in the bloc party and was even asked if he would consider representing the party in a minor post in the local admin- istration. He accepted and for many years was both a bloc party member and a local official in the GDR. Ulrich never believed his participation in these activities contributed in any way to the perpetuation of the GDR regime. On the contrary, he disagreed with many of the policies and ac- tivities of the ruling elite; however, he knew better than to speak openly against the regime. Deep down he knew that German division was wrong and that someday, perhaps even in his lifetime, steps would be taken to reunite Germany. He watched the West German news every evening and he respected Chancellor Kohl. When the political and economic situation in the GDR became increasingly unstable in 1989, Ulrich listened closely for indications that the West German chancellor would come out in sup- port of German reunification. When the indication came shortly after the fall of the Berlin Wall in November 1989, Ulrich was jubilant. The period leading up to unification on October 3, 1990, was very exciting for him. He was finally able to express his feeling of national pride. He and his wife took their grandchildren on trips to West Germany to see the sights that had been forbidden for so many years. At home, he worked with his party to reformulate its image and policy positions. The biggest step for them was the formal withdrawal of the party from the so-called national front allied with the SED. Since late 1989, they worked closely with their western counterparts to reorganize the party in East Germany. Eventually, the eastern party merged with its western coun- terpart and adopted the western organizational framework and party plat- form. In the first free elections in the GDR in March 1990 their reformed bloc party received the largest percentage of the vote. Shortly thereafter, party leaders in his district, as well as the western party managers that came over to help in the transition, urged him to consider running for a directly elected seat in the new Thiiringen state parliament. Greatly hon- ored by their confidence in him and eager to help make the transition a success in his state, he accepted the nomination and won election to the Landtag in 1990. Ulrich S. found the work in the Landtag interesting and rewarding. In 1994, he won a second term. The only regret he has about his work is that “everyone always tries to throw my past in my face! I have nothing to be ashamed of. . . . If people are looking for the responsible ones, they need only look to the pps [Partei des Demokratischen Sozialismus/Party of Democratic Socialism, the successor to the communist party]. They are directly responsible for the unjust system we had in the GDR. It is shame- ful that they sit here today in the Landtag.” He is quick to add, “I do not fault the people who vote for the PDS necessarily . . . the changes are confusing for some people and they look for easy answers . . . but the PDs is not the answer. They wanted to preserve the GDR! Now they try to manip- ulate the feelings of voters ... such populists!” Ulrich believes that there has been too much self-pity and longing for the past since 1990. He prefers to focus on the present and on the many important tasks he and his party must accomplish in order to promote economic stability in their state. “We Thiiringers must stop complaining about things and move on!” Birgit M. is no stranger to politics. Both of her parents were members of the communist SED, and there was never any doubt in her mind that she would join the party, which she did at age eighteen. Twenty years later, Birgit M. sits in her parliamentary office in the Schwerin castle, the loca- tion of the Mecklenburg-Vorpommern Landtag. In her thirty-eight years, she has seen unbelievable changes occur in her country; however, she has remained true to her beliefs. “I know who I am. I was a member of the SED, and I am a member of the pps. I have nothing to hide, and I have not compromised my beliefs in order to get elected. I always believed a better system was possible, and I still believe it. This [FRG] system is far from perfect, and I intend to keep on fighting for a better system!” Indeed, Birgit M. sounds like a fighter. Her speech is polished, sprinkled with references to important political theorists and social science concepts. She is a well-educated woman, with a Ph.D. in philosophy and two years’ experience as a lecturer at a university. Although she is a petite woman, the excitement and conviction with which she speaks gives her the air of a political giant. On the floor of the Mecklenburg-Vorpommern plenary ses- sions, her impassioned speeches about the urgent need for reforms in her state are met with applause by a few parliamentarians—all members of her 8 Introduction PDS caucus—and jeers by the majority of the conservative-dominated par- liament. It is ironic that less than a decade earlier, the people who heckle her and her party now were not so outspoken. They were largely silent, letting a few civic activists take risks and speak out. Birgit M. was not silent in the final years of the GDR, although she was not a civic activist. She became critical of the communist party, its lack of vision, its ossified leadership, but she did not quit. She believed the only way to change the party, and to improve the GDR, was to work from within the system. Along with a number of other critical party members of the younger generation, she worked locally, in her town of Alt Brandenburg, to generate discussion about the need to modernize the party. During the autumn of 1989, she represented her party in the local roundtable discus- sions about the future of the GDR. For a brief period that fall, she consid- ered leaving the party, which could only react lamely to challenges from society. Soon, however, a younger generation of leadership replaced the old guard and promised renewal of the party (reborn as the PDs). Birgit M. does not regret her decision to stay in the party; “My role has not changed drastically. I am still fighting for change. ... Now 1am in the opposition... . and this is an important role to play in a parliamentary system!” The stories of Konrad L., Ulrich S., and Birgit M. are typical of many par- liamentarians interviewed in the new states of Germany. Like Konrad L., many of the eastern Germans elected to the new state parliaments in 1990 report that they neither belonged to a political party nor held public office prior to 1989-90. They are political amateurs who, for a variety of reasons, decided to become active in the political transformation process. The largest segment of the new eastern German elite is made up of former bloc party members, like Ulrich S. Though their reasons for joining bloc parties in the GDR vary, they have in common a strong resistance to the idea of shared responsibility for the GDR regime. They tend to place the blame for the GDR solely on the pps, the successor to the SED. Like Ulrich S., most former bloc party members held only minor positions under the old sys- tem, and many held none at all. Those who held even minor posts often have administrative and leadership skills that are useful in the new politi- cal system. While these people were clearly not the power elite of the GDR, their status in the old system remains a sensitive issue. A minority of the new parliamentarians comes from the old-system elite. Most of the former SED members, like Birgit M., held neither “party functions,” positions of power in the party apparatus, nor significant positions in the political- administrative institutions of the GDR. They are, however, from the rela- tively more privileged sphere of the GDR. They have enjoyed more oppor- tunities for education and career advancement and have acquired valuable skills, not to mention thicker skins. These three character sketches capture several important elements of the eastern German transition experience at both the individual and the systemic levels. Underlying their stories is the process of the individual’s transformation from citizen of the GDR to politician in the united FRG. The individual experience also parallels the larger story of the merger of two worlds: one developed over forty years along state socialist principles and one introduced practically overnight from the outside. It is the story of how citizens of formerly communist societies adjust to the norms and routines of democratic capitalism. More precisely, it is how citizens adjust to a particular model of democratic capitalism—a model they have not designed themselves according to their experiences and preferences but one that has been transplanted from the outside. There are no precedents for the merger of a communist country with a democratic-capitalist one. What has been attempted with the unification of the GDR and FRG will surely provide lessons for future merger of states, such as North and South Korea, or of two sides of the formerly divided European continent, as with the integration of East Central European countries into the North Atlantic Treaty Organization and the European Union. The merger of two systems (or the replacement of one with an- other) is also the merger of two societies and cultures. It requires ad- justment along numerous dimensions (political, legal, economic, social, cognitive, and behavioral) and at many levels (systemic, societal, and indi- vidual). As a result, the merger of East and West Germany, as well as East and West Europe, will take much longer than most observers anticipated. It is also important to remember that Germany was a unified state for only seventy-eight years (1871-1949). Compared to most European nation- states, Germany has had a brief experience with national unity. Even when it was unified, moreover, it was often a highly diffuse unit. In addition, the postwar democratization experience of West Germany does not, as some might expect, provide a useful model for system trans- formation in the east. First and foremost, the postwar context was entirely different: Germany was defeated in war and subsequently occupied by the victorious powers. Beaten and war-weary, there were few options open to the Germans but to rebuild politics and society along lines acceptable to the occupying powers. The GDR regime in 1989 was peacefully challenged from within its borders. The mobilization of mass protest in that coun- try successfully overturned four decades of one-party rule. Moreover, 10 Introduction through election of a pro-unification coalition government in March 1990, East Germans freely chose to embark on a transformation of their system through unification with the West German state. Since then, the pace and methods of political and economic change have been largely determined by western German politicians and economic experts, whose experience with democratic institutions and the free market were appreciated by most eastern Germans—at least initially. Not only is the context in which democratization occurs different in the east in the nineties than in the west in the forties and fifties, so is the task at hand. In the postwar case, system change entailed both institutional and cultural transformation; however, it did not fundamentally challenge per- sonal identity. Germans remained Germans (although certainly there were many difficult issues to confront on the individual and societal levels that affected how one defined Germanness or what attachment one had to Ger- man national identity). One could argue that political allegiance and be- haviors changed, while the individual’s identity did not. For East Ger- mans, the transformation to a democratic system occurred at the same time as their citizenship changed: from GDR to FRG citizens. The center of power shifted from East Berlin to Bonn (at least for the first decade of unification). Identity is deeply affected in this case, not only because of system and country change but primarily because of their status as “new citizens.” They are apprentice democrats to the experienced west Ger- mans. Most devastating for many eastern Germans is the feeling that their past lives, indeed, who they are, are of less value because they were on the “wrong side of history.” This aspect of the eastern German experience after 1990 differentiates it from other postcommunist transitions. Unlike the east German, the Romanian, the Pole, or the Hungarian does not experi- ence a fundamental change or challenge to her identity as a result of system change. For east Germans, transformation has occurred faster and more completely in every sphere of life. For example, in the space of about one year, the East German state was dismantled, a completely different politi- cal system was introduced (and with it, new values, rules, and discourse), and a new elite was recruited. Between October 1989 and March 1990, the apex of communist party authority, the Politburo, resigned, the communist party changed its name, and the first completely free parliamentary elec- tions took place. In July 1990, the rules that guide economic, monetary, and social policy were replaced with West German practices. On October 3, 1990, the GDR state disappeared and its territory and people became part of the FRG. In the same month the five new eastern Lander (states) elected representatives to their regional parliaments. In these elections, the former 11 communists, now called the Party of Democratic Socialism (PDs), polled only an average of 12.2 percent in the Landtag elections. Two months later, on December 2, the first all-German federal election took place, with the PDs polling 11 percent in the east and 2.4 percent nationwide. Nowhere else in the former East bloc were the state, the system, and the elite so quickly and profoundly replaced. In most other cases, the state did not disappear with the collapse of communism. In the few cases where the state did change, such as Yugoslavia, the USSR, or Czechoslovakia, it frag- mented into new, more ethnically homogeneous units. Moreover, in other transition countries, political systems underwent reform more gradually and according to the traditions, tastes, and conditions of each context. For East Germany, the role played by an external actor, the West German state and its political parties and leadership, had a significant impact on the process and outcomes of political development. The absorption of East Germany by an established democratic and capitalist FRG put eastern Germans on a different, faster track of political, economic, and social change. Although other postcommunist societies also embarked on tre- mendous changes to their political, economic, and social systems, eastern Germans now operate in a transplanted system. With the introduction of the ready-made system of the FRG, there was little room for modifications that might reflect local conditions or tastes. In other words, what occurred was not truly a merger of the two societies or an amalgamation of the two states; rather, unification meant the replication of the FRG in the east. The FRG system and constitution were extended to the east unchanged. Prior to unification there was a relatively short period of debate in both the East and West German parliaments about the proper method for unification. Swift unification under Article 23 of the Grundgesetz (Basic Law), the West German constitution was chosen over the slower process set out in Article 146. Article 23 provided for the accession of territories to the Fed- eral Republic without institutional or constitutional changes, whereas Ar- ticle 146 entailed drafting a new all-German constitution. The former was viewed as the faster option and reflected a widespread belief in Bonn that the FRG system required no change before being introduced to the east. In stark contrast to their East European neighbors, the adoption of the political system of the FRG in 1990 meant that the new east German elites did not confront the task of designing a new political system. While in other postcommunist transitions, political institutions have changed more slowly and the transformation of politics and society has evolved accord- ing to local or cultural preferences, the democratization process in eastern Germany has been guided significantly by politicians in Bonn or by an 42 Introduction ersatz elite of managers and experts from West German political parties, bureaucracies, and other organizations who went east after 1990. The transfer of western German personnel to the east to serve as facilitators and teachers of democracy became part of the transfer of institutions and rules. Given these advantages, the institutional transformation of eastern Ger- many occurred relatively rapidly. The constitution is firmly in place there (the West German Basic Law was adopted unchanged, according to Article 23 on accession), and there have been free and fair elections at regular intervals at each of the three levels of government. In contrast, it has taken Poland seven years to draft and ratify a constitution. In many postcommu- nist countries, institutions are still in flux and social turmoil threatens to disrupt the democratization process, especially in the former Yugoslavia and the former USSR. Despite the tremendous amount of financial support and technical as- sistance available to the eastern Germans as a result of unification, the adjustment pressures confronting them are more acute than in other post- communist cases. While elsewhere political change has unfolded rela- tively gradually, the general wisdom in Bonn was that a swift and com- prehensive dismantling of the GDR system would aid the development of democratic institutions in the east, by wiping the slate clean and trans- planting the FRG system, norms, and patterns of leadership. The FRG institutions would nurture an FRG political culture. There was no need for tinkering with the system—“why change a good thing” was the logic that ultimately rejected the option of drafting a new constitution for unified Germany. Therefore, the expectation has been that the east should catch up to the west, that it should conform to established western patterns. Implicitly, assimilation to the transplanted model is the key to democrati- zation. A failure to mirror the west would be paramount to a failure to democratize. This implication is not as evident or forceful in other post- communist cases, since it is assumed that culture imprints democratic systems—that there are varieties of democratic systems. Institutional stability, however, is not the same as societal integration. While institutional replication occurred rapidly and peacefully, the same cannot be said of the societal or cultural realms. The transplanted party organizations, policy prescriptions, and leadership patterns developed in another context—the West German state and society—over a period of forty years. As a result, they lack roots in the east and have not mobilized the same degree of support in the “new” states as in the “old” ones. In effect, there is a “societal lag” between the transplanted system and its new host society and between east and west. East and west German societies have 13 not grown together in pace with institutions. While a “societal lag” may not be terribly surprising, considering the length of time east and west were separated, what is surprising is that feelings of togetherness and mu- tual trust between east and west have decreased in recent years. One poll found that western Germans were more sympathetic toward the French, Austrians, and Americans than toward eastern Germans. On a scale with values ranging from +5 to —5, sympathy for eastern Germans fell from +2.0 to +1.2, putting them on par with Russians, who also scored +1.2.2 When asked whether east and west Germans had become closer or more distant since unification, west Germans tended to believe they had grown closer, while east Germans said further apart. When asked if they agreed with the statement “After unification the differences between east and west have become more obvious,” 69 percent of the west German respondents said yes compared with 77 percent of the easterners. Only 35 percent of east- erners polled said they trusted most west Germans, while 42 percent of westerners said they trusted east Germans.° One of the most troubling developments is the fact that, several years after unification, a large percentage of eastern Germans feel less a part of the FRG than they did in 1990. Rather than feeling that they had devel- oped a common German identity, many eastern Germans say they feel a greater attachment to an East German identity than to an all-German iden- tity. From June 1990 to June 1995 the proportion of eastern Germans who saw themselves more as “German” than as “citizens of the former GDR” dropped from 66 percent to 40 percent.* Moreover, there is a growing sense among eastern Germans that they are not accepted by the west as equals; polls from 1990 to 1995 found that 70 percent of the easterners polled believed that they were seen as second-class Germans.® Several years after the fall of the Berlin Wall and the beginning of the collapse of communism in the GDR, there is growing evidence that the rapid replacement of the GDR’s political, economic, and cultural struc- tures with Western institutions and standards has contributed to wide- spread disillusionment among eastern Germans. In several policy areas, such as social security, education, housing, and health service, more east- ern Germans in 1995 than in 1990 assumed the GDR was superior than FRG.° Voter turnout and party membership are both down, and the share of votes for the PDs increased from 11 percent in the east in 1990 to about 20 percent in 1994. The increase in support for the PDs is widely interpreted as a sign of protest against the established parties. Another sign that pol- icymakers may have overestimated the public tolerance for systemic and identitive change was the failure of a new effort to merge east with west— 14 Introduction this time the eastern state of Brandenburg with the western-dominated city-state of Berlin—when put to a referendum in 1996.7 On the other hand, there is mounting frustration among many western Germans, who resent paying higher taxes and social insurance contributions to help fi- nance the rebuilding of the east.* These are only a few examples to illus- trate the challenges of merging two societies and cultures. On the front lines of these simultaneous processes of transplant, adjust- ment, and integration are the new elected representatives in eastern Ger- many. They are a bridge between the old and new systems and between the east and west. The experiences of the first generation of eastern state par- liamentarians are an important window onto the individual- and societal- level changes occurring since 1990. This brings us back to Konrad L., Ulrich S., and Birgit M., and the hundreds of people that were recruited to the new democratic political institutions in the east. Relatively little is known about the new political elites, their backgrounds, or their beliefs. Yet the experiences, orientations, and visions they bring with them are likely to influence how they perceive their roles as leaders as well as how they perform their leadership functions. In other words, their “GDR biog- raphies” and paths to politics after the fall of communism have implica- tions for the functioning of the new system. Have they been successful at adjusting to the western-imported institutions and rules for parliamentary behavior? Little is known about how the new elites have adopted to the transplanted political system, its norms and procedures, and the western patterns of political leadership associated with the FRG system. Yet, these too potentially affect the functioning of the transplanted system and the integration of east and west. Do the new elites share the public’s reserva- tions about the new system and identity? Have elites been able to create an atmosphere of trust and encourage citizen participation in the new system? The answers to these questions are significant for understanding the opportunities and challenges of postcommunist democratization in Germany. The journey from being citizens of the GDR to being politicians of the FRG draws our attention back to the role of people in the process of democ- ratization. It also reminds us that political change involves much more than rules, procedures, and governmental structures; it involves values, attitudes, and behaviors. Postcommunist elite building entails the process of recruiting people to politics, the process of learning new rules, pro- cedures, and institutional roles, and very importantly, redefining the rela- tions between leaders and the people. The chapters that follow analyze the development of a group of demo- 15 cratic political elites—the new state parliamentarians. In doing so, this study tells the story of the merger of two societies. What challenges arise when a democratic-capitalist system is transplanted in a society shaped by decades of state socialism? What remains from the East German experi- ence? How might Germany change as a result of unification? The way in which Germany answers these fundamental questions may have far- reaching consequences for Europe. In many ways, Germany is a laboratory for the larger integration of Eastern Europe into the institutions of Western Europe. The experiences in the first decade of unification set the tone not only for the New Germany but for the New Europe as well. JA 1 Elite Building after Communism Following forty years of one-party rule, the establishment of parliamen- tary democracy in the new Lander marked the dawn of a new political age for eastern Germans. As the protagonists of the new institutions of repre- sentative democracy, the new state parliamentarians play a significant role in the consolidation of postcommunist democracy and the integration of east and west Germany. The purpose of this book is to examine who these new important players are, how they were recruited to the new institu- tions, and what factors shape how they perceive and carry out the func- tions of elected representatives. Before we turn to the elites themselves, we must first consider the context in which elite building occurs. The particular institutional and cultural dimensions of system change in east- ern Germany present certain possibilities and challenges to elite building. The Institutional and Cultural Dimensions of System Change Nineteen eighty-nine will be remembered as the year that the people of Eastern European communist countries peacefully challenged their gov- ernments to fundamentally change themselves. First a few brave individ- uals and then groups of citizens came forward demanding more freedom and pressuring their governments to be accountable to the people. As one slogan chanted by East German demonstrators in late 1989 told the GDR leaders, “We are the people—you answer to us!” Citizens’ demands, com- bined with fundamental changes in international relations and, in particu- 18 Elite Building after Communism lar, on the part of the Soviet Union under Gorbachev, culminated in moves toward large-scale political and economic reform. This marked the rein- vention of politics—a politics no longer to be determined by communist party elites and imposed on the citizenry.! Human rights, “living in truth,” and citizen voice and participation were the watchwords of the newly mobilized publics. The meaning of democracy was richly debated, and the future seemed full of possibilities. It was the year of the citizen and a time of hope. The celebrations of the fall of Soviet-type communist regimes in Eastern Europe quickly faded. The mass public receded into the private sphere of everyday activities, while policymakers and scholars began to focus on institutional design and political stability. This demobilization is under- standable, as one of the first tasks of the transition to democracy was to provide a framework for a new political system. This usually consisted of amending communist-era constitutions or drafting new ones in order to delineate the lines of power, to provide limits to power, and to protect the rights and freedoms of citizens. Most Eastern European polities began the transition toward democratic rule by abolishing the monopoly on power of the communist party and arranging for free elections. The political and economic transition tasks were numerous and complex and, ultimately, were addressed in various ways and sequences by different countries.” Underlying most democratization studies is a belief that nondemocratic societies can and should follow Western models of representative democ- racy—that given the “correct” institutional framework, they will follow in the footsteps of established democratic systems.* However, no institu- tional change occurs in a vacuum; rather, each one unfolds in a particular societal and cultural context. Certain political values and norms for be- havior exist in each society—the product of years of individual and col- lective experiences. In the cases of former communist societies, people ex- perienced four decades of rule that systematically attempted to wipe out any impulses toward democracy, be they individual freedoms or group/ organizational autonomy. How does democracy develop roots in such societies? Democratization, from the root demos, is about people and their atti- tudes and behaviors, not just about structures and processes. Systemic change entails more than institutional transformation, the development of functioning stable norms, rules, and structures for governance.* How such societies and cultures respond to the systemic changes is also of conse- quence, as the nature and extent of societal/cultural responses are likely to affect the functioning and sustainability of the new democratic system. 19 Without the acceptance and practice of those system norms by the citi- zenry, the system remains a hollow shell. Institutionalization and cultur- alization are interrelated processes, although the former usually occurs more quickly and is more readily observable than the change of attitudinal and cultural norms. Democratic culturalization demands special attention in the context of postcommunism. For four decades, the communist countries of Eastern Europe stood apart from, indeed in opposition to, the West, representative democracy, and capitalism. Individualism, competition, uncertainty, and risk were not familiar values and conditions. As a result, the challenges posed by the transplant of Western norms and institutions are formidable. To adopt institutions of democracy and the free market is one thing, but to encourage people to identify with those institutions and to participate in them is quite another. People carry with them deeply ingrained attitudes, habits, customs, and memories. The values and behaviors of the state socialist regimes are likely to be deeply embedded in the culture of post- communist societies. A distrust of political elites and organizations, a tendency toward apoliticism, and the expectation of a dirigist state are attitudes and habits that may take a generation or more to change. Intro- ducing new “objective” conditions such as political rules and terms does not necessarily mean the “subjective” realm of hearts and minds automat- ically or necessarily follows. While these challenges confront every so- ciety that experiences dramatic system change, they are particularly acute in the case of east Germany, where the mode of system change and the in- tervention of an external actor in the transitions process are unique factors and have several important consequences for democratic culturalization. The Mode of Transition: System Transplant In postcommunist eastern Germany, the ready-made West German system was transplanted to East Germany, without modification for indigenous circumstances, experiences, or preferences.° Rather than a gradual intro- duction of the new system, a swift harmonization of institutions occurred through the replacement of eastern structures with western ones. The planning and implementation of institutional transplant paid little atten- tion to culturalization. There was no period of preparation in eastern Germany for the new FRG norms and procedures. The eastern German people—those most affected by the transplant of new structures—were effectively demobilized in the unification process. In comparison with the role of citizens in the breakdown of the old regime, the transplant rele- 20 Elite Building after Communism gated people to being subjects, rather than agents, of change. The process left little or no room for citizen input. It was the hour of the policymaker and the bureaucrat, and few stopped to consider whether the attitudes and shared experiences of East German society might be compatible with the new norms and routines. In particular, there was little attempt made to understand the nature of state-society relations and political culture in the GDR, or to question how a society emerging from decades of bureaucratic socialism might react to the elite-driven transplant of democracy. It is not surprising that some eastern Germans believe not much had changed: it is still “them up there and us down here.” The mode of system change in the East German case belies both an optimism about the transplantability of a ready-made democratic system and culture and a pessimism about the role that citizens potentially play in political development.® After the ini- tial optimism of 1989-90, however, it became increasingly obvious that beneath the surface of common linguistic and historical ties, east and west Germany were very different societies and that neue und alte Bundes- biirger (new and old citizens of the FRG) often hold very different political attitudes, expectations, and behavioral norms, shaped by markedly dif- ferent life experiences since the end of World War II.” An External Actor: The FRG In addition to the unique mode of transition in East Germany, there is another unique transition element that affects democratization: the pres- ence of an external actor—the FRG, broadly speaking—and its role in guid- ing the process of political change after 1989. The East German transition to democracy may be described as exogenously driven. As later chapters of this book will demonstrate, West German political actors began to exert significant influence in the development of the political parties in the GDR, on the 1990 negotiations between the two German states, and in the implementation of the system transplant. The latter process was aided by as many as twenty thousand managers and aides who went east after 1990.8 As a result, more than any other transition case in the region, the East German democratization process raises the question of the legitimacy of an “imported” (and some would even say, though inaccurately, “im- posed”) system. Rather than being a homegrown political system, whose rules and institutions have been fashioned by the society and its leaders, according to their own preferences and visions for the future, the eastern Germans now live in a system they had no role in developing. Moreover, the politicization of this system transplant created unrealistic expecta- 21 tions in the east about how quickly and completely Bonn politicians could deliver prosperity, and it deepened a sense that eastern Germans’ fate lay in the hands of distant elites and a paternalistic state. Perhaps the clearest example of the primacy of politics over prudence, in this case economic prudence, was the Kohl government’s decision to allow East Germans to exchange their ostmarks at a 1:1 rate with the German mark.° Against the advice of economics experts and with an eye on the upcoming elections, Kohl bent to public pressure in the east for a 1:1 conversion rate. Instead of the economic miracle that East Germans desperately hoped for, how- ever, the move rendered eastern industries too costly and unable to com- pete in the open market, triggering massive layoffs and unleashing a pro- cess of de-industrialization in the east. Another effect of this decision was a growing sense of dependency on the west, underscoring many East Ger- mans’ suspicions that they were merely bystanders in the unification pro- cess. As this episode suggests, some of the most difficult challenges of German integration and postcommunist democratization are psychocul- tural—within the realm of values, attitudes, identity, and behaviors. For East Germans in 1989-1990, the apparent wish to enjoy the freedoms and affluence of the West Germans did not necessarily mean that people also desired the freedom to fail, to feel humiliation, or to experience insecurity. Moreover, expressions of national solidarity did not necessarily indicate a desire to forget everything about the previous forty years or to trade in a system of beliefs and behaviors for a completely new one. Even if some individuals desired such an exchange of values, behaviors, and identity, how readily could they cast off the socialization and “identity” nurtured by the GDR regime? All communist regimes attempted to imbue their citizens with certain system values and a sense of loyalty, as indeed do all regimes. Certainly, the creation of the “New Soviet Man” or the “socialist personality” was a primary goal of communist elites. Owing to the origins of the East German state in postwar division, the GDR regime went to great lengths to separate and differentiate East Germans from their West German counterparts. In 1961, the regime erected the Berlin Wall to keep its people in and West Germans out. A policy of Abgrenzung (demarcation) from the FRG followed, which continually indoctrinated East Germans with the notion that West Germany was decadent and imperialist, and that the GDR was the better alternative to the FRG.'° Although there were certainly people in the GDR who disbelieved some or all of the regime’s claims about the FRG, at least one well-known study demonstrates that two sepa- rate national identities began to emerge.'" In the euphoria of 1989, however, the cold war antagonisms and cultural 22 Elite Building after Communism differences between the two Germanies were temporarily forgotten. The prospect of unification offered a way to quickly overcome the political and economic differences between East and West Germans. As former West German chancellor Willy Brandt put it, what “belonged together” could now “grow together.” Then chancellor Kohl envisioned one big “blossom- ing landscape” of prosperity and peace. Moreover, crowds of demonstra- tors in East German cities began to shout “Germany—united fatherland” and “We are one Volk,” suggesting the appreciation for acommon bond and fate that had been long denied them by postwar division. Expressions of national feeling may not be enough to sustain the arduous process of system transformation. There is plenty of evidence in other postcommunist set- tings that attests to the distance between national feeling and democratic tolerance. This gap is best represented by leaders such as Vladimir Me¢iar in Slovakia, Radovan Karadzic in Bosnia, Slobodan Milosevic in Serbia, and Istvan Czurka in Hungary, to name a few. An affinity for national sym- bols or a sense of national identity does not guarantee the development of feelings of loyalty to a political system or identification with system norms. As the public opinion data presented in the introduction suggests, it would seem that national feeling is not inevitable or consistent, as the sense of belonging to the German nation has reportedly declined among eastern Germans since unification. For Germans, moreover, the issue of national identity has been a sensitive one. Some argue that shared domes- tic norms and shared pride in the democratic institutions of the FRG (such as the constitution, the Basic Law) are preferable bases for German identity and unity.'? To what extent then have democratic norms and behaviors become the common bond of East and West Germans? Put somewhat dif- ferently, to what degree has the subjective dimension of democratization paralleled or followed the process of institutional harmonization? These questions turn our attention to democratic legitimacy. Democratic legit- imacy develops along two dimensions: in terms of general support for democracy, also called “abstract” or “diffuse” support, and in terms of support for the particular system, for example, the FRG democracy, other- wise known as “specific” support.!’ Ideally, citizens believe that the par- ticular system to which they belong is the best possible system. This sug- gests a high degree of system support, or legitimacy. In the eastern German case, the question of specific support is particularly significant, since here (and only here) the new system has been brought unchanged from the outside (that is, has been placed onto the society rather than coming from within the society) and implemented, in part, by elites from the west. As a result, there was no possibility for experimentation or for a gradual evolu- tion of the system and little chance to imprint the system with indigenous 23 ideas and tastes. Elsewhere in the former communist bloc, societies and their leaders have chosen their institutions in a more endogenously deter- mined and gradual manner. This allowed for experimentation with dif- ferent combinations of democratic and capitalist structures, modified to fit local tastes and preferences. In this context, eastern Germans are faced with adapting their own/old political culture to the new democratic institutions. The impact on cultur- alization in eastern Germany is not yet satisfactorily known.'* With the introduction of the new system have come a host of new uncertainties, the intensification of feelings of displacement, and even the loss of identity. It is true that these uncertainties also confront citizens of other postcommu- nist countries. However, in other cases, citizens are all equally new to, and unfamiliar with, the new order: there are no “new” and “old” citizens with more or less experience with democracy. The institutions, such as politi- cal parties, electoral laws, or legal system have evolved more organically in other postcommunist societies, according to historical experiences and societal cleavages. In eastern Germany, the political party system (with the exception of the former communist party, the PDS) was transplanted from the outside, from the FRG. Moreover, the pressure postcommunist so- cieties feel to catch up to the prosperous West is qualitatively different for east Germans. They became “the West” overnight. Along with their new democratic credentials, however, east Germans are confronted with 63 million new fellow citizens, new ways of doing things, new standards by which to judge their past (both communist and precommunist/ fascist), and even a new discourse. In unified Germany, east Germans are only one- fifth of the total population (sixteen million out of eighty million). They are neue Bundesbiirger—new citizens. As later chapters of this book sug- gest, they face some of the same adjustment pressures as immigrants in Germany. At issue is the integration of eastern Germans into a new state, a new political system, and anew culture. In eastern Germany, democratization and integration have been con- flated by the society’s unification with an established democracy. As I have noted, democratic legitimation in east Germany entails the public’s acceptance and internalization of FRG political norms and the activation of those norms. It is useful here to introduce a distinction between passive support (where there is at least no resistance to the system) and active support (where practice of the system norms suggests a stake in the sys- tem). Where democracy has been transplanted, active support of citizens in the new routines becomes particularly important. Contrary to those who claim that passive acceptance of the democratic system (e.g., because there are no better alternatives) is enough to consolidate democracy,'° this 24 Elite Building after Communism study takes the position that active support is necessary to consolidate democracy in the east and to further the democratic integration for the two Germanies. It is important to develop a deeper, popular legitimacy that reflects mass support for democratic values and an attachment to the par- ticular system. For democratization to be complete, eastern Germans must feel they have a stake in the system—that their participation is worthwhile. More than any other subgroup of the population, the first generation of postcommunist political elites plays a crucial role in democratic legitima- tion and integration.'® They are the first democratically elected, represen- tative leaders, giving a voice to people who have never experienced de- mocracy and linking them to the FRG system. Moreover, the new elites demonstrate to the larger population the new rules and procedures of democracy. Through their example and through their responsible and ef- fective leadership, they can convince the public of the legitimacy of the new system and encourage the internalization and activation of demo- cratic norms and values. Elite Building and Postcommunist Democratization Political development is, in part, a function of political leadership. The characteristics and functions of political leadership in democratic settings are the focus of numerous theorists ranging from Max Weber and Joseph Schumpeter to Robert Dah] and Robert Putnam. Political elites are gener- ally defined functionally, that is, on the basis of their role in the political decision-making process, or positionally, on the basis that they occupy political office. Traditional elite theories examine the nature of elites—the minority that, in every society, rules.!” Others analyze the characteristics of elites, their social backgrounds,"® and their values.'® It is generally as- sumed that the composition and value orientations of elites influence aspects of their leadership, for example, their responsiveness to constitu- ent interests. Much contemporary theorizing about elites emphasizes the importance of establishing a “consensually unified” elite in order to pro- mote the political stability of democratic institutions.”° In other words, most elite theories focus on the role of leadership in an existing demo- cratic system. In the process of establishing and consolidating democracy, political elites also play significant roles.*! To illustrate, we may view democratiza- tion as having different phases, including the breakdown of the old re- gime, the transition to democracy, and the consolidation of democracy. Each phase is shaped by the preceding one(s) and is associated with cer- tain tasks to be accomplished before moving to the next step.”* The actors 25 involved may vary from stage to stage and across cases. In some cases, mass mobilization plays an important part in bringing down the old order by exerting pressure from below, undermining elite confidence and erod- ing further regime legitimacy. In other cases, mass mobilization might be less of a factor than elite-led reforms. Studies of regime change often high- light the either proactive or reactive role of political elites in the transition from authoritarian rule to democracy.”’ For example, old regime elites may facilitate reform and negotiate with societal groups about the direction of political change, or they may react to pressures from society to reform the political (or economic) system, trying to protect their status and block alternative plans for the system. In the first instance, the old regime elites are more likely to maintain a role in the second stage, the transition to democracy. This was the case in Poland and Hungary, where reformist elites agreed to negotiate with opposition groups. In both cases, many old elites gained entrance into newly created parliaments or retained their administrative positions. In the other instance, elites that resist change are likely to be marginalized in democratic elections and, possibly, be re- moved from their administrative posts for fear they may try to block re- forms. This was the case in Czechoslovakia and the GDR. Invariably, political elites are central actors in the second, transitional phase. Parliamentary elites design legislation to guide the new system and administrative personnel implement the new laws. The public is usually demobilized during this stage. The third and final stage is the consolida- tion of democracy. Consolidation entails the durability of the new regime. This is the stage where culturalization, the rooting of the new democratic order in society, becomes essential. It is also at this stage where the masses again become actors.”* That is not to say that political elites are any less important in the consolidation phase. On the contrary, their role in mobi- lizing support for the new system is crucial and is at the center of this study. Elites are agents of democratic socialization, and their performance can contribute to the legitimation of the new system. It is important to remember, however, that elites are part of the systemic change: they are not just static actors in the process, but their own development occurs at the same time. Therefore, elite building is embedded in the larger democratization pro- cess. Elite building can also be viewed as a process, with stages and identi- fiable patterns and relationships. Elites themselves—both the “old guard” and the newly recruited—also undergo a great deal of transformation. Elite transformation occurs along two dimensions: elite structure”> (or compo- sition) and elite culture.*° Postcommunist elite transformation entails the shift from a communist to a democratic elite structure; that is, from a 26 Elite Building after Communism closed, exclusive, and ideologically conformist nomenklatura system, named after the lists of positions under the control of the party, to an elite recruited through free and open elections. Elite transformation further entails the development of a normative commitment to the rules of the democratic game and the behaviors that represent interests in society. As with systemic transformation, elite transformation does not occur in a vacuum. In order to grasp the challenges to elite transformation, it is essential to know where the elites originated (their background), the na- ture of elite-mass relations in the old nondemocratic system, the previous patterns of political socialization and participation, and the degree of space permitted by the old regime for autonomous self-organization. Fac- tors such as the presence of splits within the ruling elite, the organiza- tional strength of the opposition, and, perhaps, the influence of external actors and events can all have a significant impact on the constellation of power in the new order. In addition to elite origins, elite recruitment is another important step in elite development.”” How a person becomes a member of the elite and whether she draws on previous party membership or leadership experience may influence the outlook and behavior of the postcommunist elite. Political elites are dynamic actors whose collective and particular life ex- periences, attitudes, and norms of behavior likely influence their choices and actions at each stage of the democratization process. Who the elites are (for example, what their demographic characteristics and occupations are) and what beliefs and behavioral norms they hold certainly have an impact on how they themselves perceive and interact with the new democratic system—how they bring the new institutions to life—and how they link the polity with the new system.”® That brings us back to the final and most difficult stage of democratiza- tion, consolidation. As we have suggested, this stage entails the very im- portant process of creating elite and mass cultures that support the new rules and procedures. It is at this stage where elite-elite and elite-mass interactions play an essential role in the functioning of democracy by facilitating communication and collective action, by fostering trust in the system, and by promoting a sense of national democratic citizenship. Bridging Society and the Political System: The Integrative Function of Elites in the Democratization Process Elites perform important integrative functions in democratizing societies, functions that are essential for the consolidation of democracy—both in- 27 stitutionally and culturally. Integrative, or linkage, functions refer to the role patterns of interaction between elites, as well as between elites and masses. Horizontal elite-elite interaction entails developing elite con- sensus on the positive value of the basic rules and institutions of the system. An “integrated elite” is necessary for the pursuit of system goals, insofar as a fragmented elite may diminish system performance and pose a threat to system stability.2° In addition to elite value consensus, hori- zontal integration implies the development of a sense of esprit de corps and of elite competence and responsibility.*° Horizontal integration also implies patterns of communication between elites and the establishment of patterns of behavior within the political institutions conducive to the smooth functioning of democracy and, ultimately, to the sustainability of democracy.*! Interaction between elites and masses, or vertical integration, is equally important to the democratization process.*? On one hand, elite commit- ment to democratic institutions and norms sets an example for the society at large and generates legitimacy that can help democracy survive politi- cally turbulent or uncertain times and perhaps less than satisfactory per- formance in the early stages of social and economic adjustment.*? A basic level of trust in the democratic process is likely to be engendered by the perception that elites are responsive and responsible to the people, that they accept responsibility for failed as well as successful policies, and that they are willing to be voted out of office and replaced by new actors. By adhering to the democratic rules, elites demonstrate democratic norms to the larger public and thereby foster their identification with the system. Moreover, through dynamic patterns of interaction between the political elite and the mass public (or groups therein), vertical elite-mass integra- tion occurs.** Linkages between elites and masses create and nurture pop- ular acceptance of the system, which is important for generating legit- imacy, maintaining democracy, and making democracy thrive. Elite-mass linkages may be viewed as two-way communication and activity. On one hand, the flow of communications and the mobilization of political ac- tivity is from the top down. As already noted, elites pass on political information, diffuse regime norms, and attempt to convince the populace, or segments of it, to act (or not act) in certain ways, as well as to support particular ideas, policies, and candidates. Elites interact with constituents through established channels, such as the media, political parties, interest groups, and a variety of organizations representing industry, business, employers, and employees, as well as through direct contact with citi- zens, usually in the “home” political district, or with citizens’ initiatives 28 Elite Building after Communism groups. Communication and mobilization also occur from the bottom up, from citizens to representatives. This aspect of vertical integration en- sures elite accountability and responsiveness and is essential for modern democracies. Through these channels, constituents pass on information and articulate their demands and concerns (their “interests”) to the elite, thereby furthering their integration into the political system and giving them a “stake” in maintaining democracy. The importance of leadership, vision, and initiative cannot be underesti- mated in the transition from communism. The very nature of the Soviet- style communist regime, with the communist party monopoly on power, its inextricable link to a monolithic ideology, and its domination of all or- ganizations and associations in society, did little to prepare the ground for the emergence of liberal democracy. Under the old state socialist system, leadership was paternalistic, hierarchical, and highly centralized. Politi- cal elites treated the people as children, as passive subjects whose political mobilization in support of the party, its policies, and its symbols was com- pulsory, while in exchange the socialist state would provide basic needs, a reasonable standard of living, protection. The people of Soviet-style com- munist societies were not encouraged.to think and act independently or to organize their own interests. The parameters of possible activity were set by party leadership, administratively organized by a huge bureaucracy, and strictly enforced by the secret police. The latter institution reflected the insecurity of acommunist leadership whose legitimacy was not based on popular support but was tied to an ideology and “legitimated” by the threat of force by domestic security forces or, worse, by Soviet forces. The resulting relationship between elites and non-elites was one of mutual mistrust, fear, and resentment. Given this state socialist legacy, people are still likely to mistrust power holders and underestimate their own capacity to impact politics and to hold leaders accountable—even in the new demo- cratic system, where leaders are democratically elected. In such an en- vironment, democratic elites must somehow inspire confidence in their leadership and in the new system, its norms and institutions. Factors Influencing Postcommunist Elite Building So far we have concentrated on the influence of the communist past on elite building. Elite building after communism, however, is affected by two broad categories of factors: the societal and cultural conditions orig- inating in the old state socialist system and the normative and institu- tional imperatives rooted in the new democratic order.*® The factors orig- 29 inating in the old order we might call “push” factors, and those presented by the new order “pull” factors.*° Both push and pull factors are likely to affect who becomes a member of the postcommunist elite, what attitudinal and behavioral orientations they bring with them to their new roles, and how they perform their elite functions in the new system of governance, including how they interact with one another and with the public. To illustrate, let us recall the story of Konrad L. and consider the variable of elite composition. The recruitment of previously apolitical persons like Konrad L. to politics in 1990 owed much to the nature of leadership and opposition in the GDR, as well as the type of regime transition that oc- curred there. GDR elites remained unsympathetic to the demands for po- litical reform until it was too late. The old guard was marginalized in free elections in 1990 and almost completely removed from positions of power in political and administrative offices. The opposition-minded intellec- tuals and civic activists who led the push for reforms in 1989 were also marginalized in the marketplace of politics after 1990. Not only was their vision for a better socialism in the GDR unpopular with many east Ger- mans eager to avoid further socialist experiments, the civic groups also failed to organize themselves sufficiently to be able to compete with the political parties that dominated the scene by the winter of 1989-90. In this leadership vacuum, many previously politically inactive east Ger- mans, people like Konrad L., entered politics. These people had no expe- rience in politics and, therefore, represented a “fresh start” for the east. For party leaders and a public exposed to daily revelations about the re- gime’s lies and abuses, as well as the extensive web of informers for the Staatssicherheitsdienst (Stasi), the East German secret police, newcomers such as Konrad L. were particularly attractive due to their distance from the regime. Although these newcomers to politics were free of the taint of having been a member of the old power structure, that is not to say they had no connection to the norms and behaviors associated with that regime. The values, attitudes, and norms of behavior deeply ingrained over a lifetime in another setting will likely have an impact on thinking and behavior in the new system. Forty years of division and the development of two pro- foundly different political systems produced very different political cul- tures in East and West Germany. State socialism generally produced a more egalitarian, collective-oriented, and conflict-averse political culture in East Germany than did the political system in West Germany, where political culture emphasizes freedom over equality, individualism over collectivism, and is more conflict-oriented.?” 30 Elite Building after Communism Pull factors also affect elite recruitment. The patterns of political party organization, the personnel policies of particular institutions, and the availability of a substitute elite have also influenced elite recruitment in postcommunist eastern Germany. Some political parties have been more open to former members of the SED than others, and some parties have particular goals in mind when composing a party election list (e.g., gen- der balance). Certainly an institution’s personnel policies (e.g., regarding whether to admit “old” personnel, whether to screen persons for past political and security service connections, and whether to retrain or re- quire entrance exams) also affect elite recruitment. Finally, the propensity to “cleanse” the elite of persons associated with the old regime was much higher in eastern Germany than other postcommunist cases, in part be- cause the GDR regime was particularly dogmatic and resistant to change (a push factor), and also because with unification there was a ready-made legal system to handle decommunization. The transplanted system thus opened up opportunities for previously marginalized groups to enter politics, and it contributed to keeping many former political elites out of office. Democratic pluralism entails competi- tion, and the structure of competition depends on many factors, including the type of state (unitary or federal), the type of regime (presidential or parliamentary), the political party system, electoral rules, and laws regard- ing the participation of previous party or regime officials in the new sys- tem. Not only does the new political system affect the way people are recruited to politics, it also determines the training elites receive and structures their interaction. In eastern Germany, the transplanted institu- tions have certain formal rules and norms of behavior associated with them, and these norms can be expected to guide elite behavior. Postcommunist elite development is shaped by a complexity of factors owing to the new system, its norms, and institutions, as well as factors rooted in the communist past. It is reasonable to assume that some fac- tors exert more influence over elite building than others. Their relative strength will likely depend on the particular postcommunist case, on the stage of democratization, on the level of politics (national or local), on the institution, and even on the individual member of the elite. In the east German case, where democratization has been profoundly affected by uni- fication with another country, we might expect the pull of the new order to exert greater influence on elite building than in cases where the institu- tions have evolved more gradually and endogenously. If that is indeed the case, we would want to know whether the particular model of elite build- ing has any implications for democratic legitimation; that is, for the de- 31 velopment of public trust in the new system and for the encouragement of public identification with system norms and routines. All of this is not to say, however, that the push of the values and norms of behavior developed in the GDR will no longer have an impact on elite development and elite-mass relations. At the very least, these factors may lead to occasional difficulties for new eastern elites as they adjust to their new roles. At most, the push of the past may lead to modifications of the transplanted patterns of leadership and of elite-mass relations, especially if many new elites believe that the established routines transplanted from the west are not sufficient to address local concerns and encourage politi- cal activity. Bridging State and Society, Past and Present, and East and West: A Framework for the Study of East German State Parliamentarians While this discussion of postcommunist elite building has defined politi- cal elites rather broadly, the chapters that follow focus on the origins, recruitment, and functions of eastern German parliamentary elites at the Land, or state, level. As an elected subgroup of the population, parliamen- tarians are on the front lines of democratization: they are agents of polit- ical change, and they link the new democratic institutions to the public. Rather than focus on elected officials at the national level of politics, this study narrows its focus to representatives in the Landtage, the state parlia- ments, because the state parliamentarians are closer to the people than the federal parliamentarians in Bonn—both in proximity and proportionately. Whereas there are approximately 134 elected officials linking the eastern electorate with the national level of politics (one-fifth of the 672 delegates in the lower house of the German national parliament, the Bundestag) there are, combined, over 500 serving as elected representatives in the five state parliaments. The Ldnder governments are also important actors in Germany’s “cooperative federalism,” as well as foci for political mobiliza- tion and identification. As such, the state parliamentarians are important, yet often overlooked, agents of integration in the German federal system.*® The state-level parliamentarians are important for other reasons as well. When the five eastern Lander were refounded in 1990, new state parlia- ments and administrative structures had to be created. The new states are Brandenburg, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Sachsen, Thiiringen, and Sachsen-Anhalt. The Lander were effectively dissolved by the GDR leader- ship in 1952, just seven years after the Soviet Military Administration established them as state governing units. The GDR regime then set up 32 Elite Building after Communism fifteen (counting East Berlin) Bezirke, or administrative districts. After 1952, the practice of “democratic centralism” denied autonomy to the regions: all decisions, all “identity,” would flow from the top down—from East Berlin to the periphery. Thus the five states have had only a brief experience as administrative/territorial units. Local governments continued to exist in the GDR, so, after unification, institutions and personnel had to be transformed—not built from scratch. At the national level, the Bundestag and Bundesrat, the upper house of the German parliament representing the Lander, were merely enlarged to in- clude representatives from the east. In contrast to these two levels of gov- ernment, the state level of government had to be newly constructed. It is here where the greatest amount of “building”—of both institutions and an elite—has been done since 1990, and it is at this level that this study of elite building will focus. Very little is known about the new state parliamentarians in the east. Of the few full-length studies of postcommunist elites in Germany, the Pots- dam Elite Study focuses on national elites broadly speaking,*° the study directed by Werner Patzelt of the Technical University of Dresden exam- ines the roles of elected representatives at both the national and state levels but largely ignores push factors,*° and other studies focus only on nonelected administrative elites.*1 With the exception of a few articles published in American political science journals,*? there is little informa- tion about the new eastern state parliamentarians available in English. The purpose of this book is to describe the process of elite building in the new state parliaments and to analyze the implications of this process for democratic legitimation and integration in the east. The empirical data derive from extensive field research in three of the five new Lander: Bran- denburg, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, and Thiiringen. Brandenburg, with East Berlin at its core, was the heart of the old GDR regime and previously the heart of old Prussia. Brandenburg (capital Potsdam) surrounds Berlin, the new German capital, and receives a great deal of tourism, investment, and general interest from the west. Mecklenburg-Vorpommern (capital Schwerin) is a sparsely populated agricultural and coastal region in the north. Thiringen (capital Erfurt) lies in the southern, relatively industrial part of eastern Germany. While logistical factors made it impossible for me to conduct the study in all five states, these three Lander represent a great deal of geographic, economic, and political variety, and there are no significant reasons why the basic elite-building patterns in those states should not apply in the other cases of Sachsen and Sachsen-Anhalt. The data include over eighty personal interviews with state-level par- 33 liamentarians. The first interview study was carried out in 1993-94, in Brandenburg. A standardized written survey, along with a request for a personal follow-up interview, was sent to approximately 70 percent of the membership of each parliamentary Fraktion, or caucus, in the Land- tag. Only seventeen parliamentarians returned a completed survey, while thirty-nine consented to a personal interview. Most of those who did not complete a written survey explained that they simply preferred a personal meeting. The personal interviews were conducted in German, using a semistandard questionnaire and lasted an average of one hour. The eval- uation of interview data was entirely qualitative. In 1997, I returned to Brandenburg to reinterview members of my previous sample and to inter- view parliamentarians who had first been elected in 1994. This time, I ex- panded the interview study to Mecklenburg-Vorpommern and Thiiringen. Again, interviews were requested with about 70 percent of the member- ship of each parliamentary Fraktion in the Landtage of Brandenburg, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, and Thiiringen. Interview requests tried to re- flect a balance of gender, generation, and geographic representation in the Fraktion. At the request of many interviewees, where direct quotations from the interviews appear in the study, I have not included the names of members of the Landtage, but only the party affiliation of the member and the place and date of the interview. The translations of these quotations are mine. Appendix A contains the names and party affiliations of the inter- viewees from the Brandenburg study of 1994 and the three-state study conducted in 1997, as well as a sample of the written survey. The inter- view study is supplemented by other sources, such as the handbooks of the Landtage, political party programs and other publications, and, where appropriate, the findings of the German studies mentioned above. Elite Building and German Unification: From GDR Citizens to FRG Politicians? The data presented in this study provide a picture of the structural and cultural transformation of elites in postcommunist Germany. On one level, new elites must adjust to their new institutional role, as political leaders in a democratic setting that, as noted, was transplanted from the outside. This adjustment process entails learning new rules, procedures, and pat- terns of communication and interaction that guide elite behavior in the FRG system. In stark contrast to the highly centralized and hierarchical system of the GDR, the new elites operate in a competitive environment with the new pressures of elections and public opinion. 34 Elite Building after Communism On another level, elite building in postcommunist eastern Germany also entails the transformation of the status, or position, of a person in the state and political system, from citizen to politician. For reasons to be elabo- rated below, most of the east German elite after 1990 were new to political office. Most had worked in occupations that did not expose them to politi- cal leadership roles. Therefore, in addition to learning the rules and pro- cedures that guide politics in the Federal Republic, many eastern German elected officials have had to learn how to be elites; that is, to assume leadership responsibilities, communicate with constituents, and promote particular policy positions and themselves as capable leaders—all within a highly competitive and partisan environment. Another large segment of the postcommunist elite had previous party experience in either the SED or its bloc parties. Some of these old party members had also held posts— though usually relatively minor ones—in GDR political or administrative institutions. One of the underlying areas for investigation in this study is the impact of past socialization, educational and career patterns, and pre- vious political or party experience on postcommunist elite development. In particular, it examines whether the different backgrounds and career paths of the postcommunist parliamentarians affect their ability to adapt to the new institutional roles. In addition to their own transformation, elites are charged with the tasks of convincing the east German public of the merits of the new system and encouraging their acceptance of the system and its norms. In other words, they must create legitimacy and create it in a system that is not home- grown. One might posit that this unique circumstance makes the process of linking the system to the society more challenging and will likely re- quire special sensitivity. Vertical, or elite-mass, integration may be ex- pected to pose particular challenges in postcommunist societies where intermediary institutions are weak, or lacking, and (in eastern Germany), where the norms and procedures of FRG parliamentarism are unfamiliar. Another important area for investigation is whether new parliamentary elites report difficulties in making linkages with the public and, if so, what they believe to be the cause of the difficulties and whether they employ particular strategies to overcome them. Moreover, it would be interesting to know whether there are certain types of elites, distinguishable by back- ground or party affiliation, for example, who are more successful than others in making links to the public. Do the elites themselves believe there are particular elite characteristics or qualities that are important to the public, help to promote public trust, and encourage active political sup- port? Although a relatively short period of time has passed and elite build- 35 ing is still occurring, it should be possible to identify patterns that may have emerged since 1990. I will investigate the following three areas: elite structure, elite culture, and elite performance. Elite Structure: Origins and Recruitment Postcommunist political elites are brokers between the old and new politi- cal systems and cultures. They bring with them particular experiences, attitudes, and orientations. On one level, we can investigate the composi- tion of the postcommunist elites in terms of demographic features: age, gender, education, social and career background. These features provide a context for comparison of new elites to the old communist elites to de- termine how much continuity exists with the old regime, for example, whether the postcommunist elites are the same actors who mobilized the forces of political change in 1989, or whether a substantial number of the new elites are neither “old” elites nor former dissidents. The background of the new elites may have implications for values, attitudes, and behavioral norms of these new leaders, which, in turn, may affect the ease or difficulty with which new elites adapt to the new system. Therefore, it is necessary to examine the political cultural origins of these new elites. This requires an understanding of GDR socialization mecha- nisms and the range of public responses to regime norms. As has been argued, an examination of the political culture and socialization patterns in the communist past provides a basis for better understanding the politi- cal attitudes and norms for behavior that the eastern German elites bring to bear in the new political context. Chapter 2, “Political Culture and Lead- ? ership under Communism: GDR Socialization,” examines how the past shapes elite recruitment and, perhaps, elite culture after the collapse of communism. In addition, this book explores the recruitment of the new elite in the revolutionary period in late 1989 and the immediate postrevolutionary phase in 1990. Chapter 3, “East German Leadership in the Revolutionary Year 1989-1990: Elite Circulation,” considers the characteristics of the regime crisis, including the domestic and international factors involved, whether old elites participated in regime change through negotiation, or if mass mobilization brought about a change of leadership. The transfer of West German political institutions, rules, and personnel are also closely examined to discover their role in the replication of the FRG system in the east. Chapter 3 also explores the related process of decommunization and demonstrates its effect on elite recruitment in the new system. 36 Elite Building after Communism Elite Culture The study of elite development entails not only previous political experi- ence and culture, nor just the recruitment paths of elites. Elite develop- ment also entails the acquisition of certain skills appropriate to political office. Eastern German elites, contrary to those in other Eastern European countries, did not design the new institutions. These elites, like other eastern Germans, may have some knowledge of the FRG system (most notably through exposure to West German television before the collapse of communism), but they have no previous direct experience with that sys- tem’s political structures. The congruence between old socialization and new structures is not automatic. With this in mind, we can examine elite professionalization, or the acquisition of certain skills required for politi- cal office: what type of training do new elites undergo? Do they learn primarily on the job through a process of trial and error that draws from their own experiences and ideas about political behavior, or are they taught by western imports? The answers have implications for the ease or difficulty of learning the new rules and procedures. Additionally, the na- ture of the learning process may affect the possibilities for elites to influ- ence the content and implementation of the new rules and procedures for democratic governance. Political learning occurs at each stage of the democratization process, from the breakdown of the old regime to the consolidation phase of the new one. For example, the “exit from communism” was a learning process for eastern elites. The recent experience of having lived through a period of acute and rapid political change and, occasionally, having been a par- ticipant (perhaps as a civic group member or founder of a new political party) in the process of bringing down the old regime is likely to have in- fluenced postcommunist elites’ perceptions, evaluations, and values and preferences, in particular regarding political reform, system goals, appro- priate types of political behavior, or elite-mass relations. In addition to formal institutional training, “life experiences” on the road to political office will have imprinted elites’ orientations and behaviors in impor- tant ways. With this in mind, the transition phase in eastern Germany is examined in chapter 4, “The Transition to Democracy in East Germany: Transplant and Elite Replacement.” In the transition stage elites usually make deci- sions about the institutions for the new system. The introduction of an external actor and the transplant of ready-made political norms and insti- tutions, however, make this transition unusual. What may be described as 37 directed democratization in eastern Germany was accompanied by di- rected elite building, in that the transplant of the FRG political system pro- foundly affected not only elite recruitment but also elite resocialization. Elite Performance: Horizontal and Vertical Integration Roles As I have argued, elites may be viewed as agents of socialization and integration. They “lead the way” into the new system, transmitting system norms, articulating interests of the society, and mobilizing support for system goals. Chapter 5, “Developing FRG Politicians: Horizontal Integra- tion” explores whether, and to what extent, there is consensus between eastern and western elites about basic system values; specifically, whether eastern elites conform to western practices, or if elements of past socializa- tion, including value orientations and behaviors, have been integrated into the new political culture. With horizontal integration in mind, the study considers whether there have been different patterns of elite re- sponse to the new institutions and procedures and, ultimately, if there have emerged new patterns of leadership. This investigation necessarily looks at the relations between eastern and western elites in the formative years of postcommunist democracy because, unlike in other postcommu- nist cases, this east-west dimension is part of the elite integration process. Since the consolidation of democracy entails system commitment and identification, it is imperative that integration along the vertical axis be considered. Chapter 6, “Elites and the Masses in Postcommunist Ger- many: Vertical Integration,” explores the various dimensions and signifi- cance of integration. Integration is not just about the convergence of value systems or political behavioral patterns; it is also about belonging, about the inclusion of new members, and about having a common interest in supporting the system. In these respects, eastern elites play a potentially crucial part in linking the east and west, as well as the system and citizens. Relative to non-elites, political elites in the east have more frequent and direct contact with the norms and procedures of the new democratic in- stitutions and with personnel from the west. Therefore, postcommunist elites serve as a conduit between the new institutions and eastern society. It is thus important to examine the following specific questions: do the so- called homegrown elites effectively transmit system norms? What societal or constituency interests do eastern elites articulate in the new system and do they do this effectively? Are they able to mobilize the eastern public to act in the new political system? Are the symbols and structures of West German democracy, that is the recognized mode of interaction and politi- 38 Elite Building after Communism cal conduct, the most appropriate vehicles for representing eastern inter- ests and mobilizing citizen participation? In order to investigate these aspects of vertical integration, chapter 6 examines “issue congruence” be- tween elites and the public. By comparing data about the most important issues to elites and to the public, we can test one aspect of vertical integra- tion. We can also look at patterns of elite-mass interaction, such as chan- nels of communication, frequency of interaction, or the mobilization of active citizen participation in politics. Mobilization might include party membership, voting, and other forms of participation. Finally, we can investigate the role of western elites in all of the processes mentioned above. The impact of western elites in postcommunist elite building is difficult if not impossible to measure. Yet, because they have played a central role in the transplant of democracy, this study of east German elites also touches briefly upon the role of western German elites. In this case of direct democratization and, as I argue, directed elite building, the relationship between transferred western German institu- tions, norms, and even personnel, on the one hand, and the process of indigenous elite formation, on the other, has implications for German domestic unity and for the means and ends of German democracy. The unique mode of transition—unification—raises important questions. Who is “leading” the process of democratization, and, moreover, where are they leading it? If western elites are the primary agents of institutionalization and socialization in the east, it is likely that the political system and the emerging state culture will conform closely to western patterns. In this case, what might the impact be on integration, system identification, and political participation in the east? Alternatively, if indigenous elites are given latitude to influence the process of democratic consolidation, there may be innovations to the FRG model of democracy. What might they be? Would this encourage system identification in the east? What would the result be for unified German democracy? These questions and this framework for analysis draw our attention to legitimacy and to the cognitive and behavioral orientations that are impor- tant for making democracy thrive. System legitimacy is not guaranteed by the transplant of a system for democratic governance. In general, the tran- sition in the institutional sphere, aided by the transfer of laws, structures, and personnel, has been a smooth one. System stability, however, is not the same thing as system legitimacy. Moreover, elite replacement and re- socialization, following established western guidelines, do not guarantee integration or public identification with, and participation in, the new system. The east German case may suggest that administrative compe- tence is not always enough to satisfy a society undergoing a transition, that 39 cultural competence, familiarity, and empathy are also important aspects of democratic leadership. Like no other postcommunist case, the east German case sheds light on the sensitive issues of building trust in the new system, bridging the com- munist past and the new political order, and redefining elite-mass rela- tions in the postcommunist setting. Here, the breakdown of the old regime and the transition to a new system occurred relatively quickly. The consol- idation of democracy, particularly the process of socialization, require much more time. Though many wanted to believe that the prospect of “blossoming landscapes” and the kind of economic prosperity found in West Germany would provide a sound basis for system legitimacy, the new system also calls for sacrifice, for living with uncertainty, and for making new decisions under unfamiliar circumstances. Legitimacy, therefore, must be based on more than economic performance or policy output: it must develop deeper roots, based on respect for democratic norms and freedoms and a basic consensus about the system that endures periods of economic hardship. Ultimately, the postcommunist environment may yield democratic sys- tems and polities that do not necessarily mirror those of Western Europe or North America. As a result of past socialization and collective experiences and particular conditions of the transition toward democracy, postcom- munist politics may yield a number of unexpected ideas, policies, styles of leadership, or even institutions. Developments that would be deemed “dangerous” to democracy in the West may be legitimate political out- comes in postcommunist countries: one obvious example is the election of former communists to the highest offices of the land in Poland (1993, 1995) or Hungary (1994), to mention only two examples. Even in Germany, where unification provided a blueprint for democracy, it is possible that a mere extension of the West German system to the east will not be enough to meet the specific concerns of eastern Germans or to develop a common ground for united Germany. It may well be argued that there were no good alternatives to the transplant of the FRG democracy to the east. Yet, this transplant occurred without a period of preparation or cultivation. Few policymakers in 1990 entertained the notion that there might be a range of responses by the indigenous “soil” to the new “variety” of political life. No one asked whether, in the new environment, the system itself might be altered, ultimately yielding something new—a new hybrid. Post—cold war Germany and Europe may indeed yield new varieties of political life. Per- haps postcommunism will even yield a different kind of elite with new patterns of leadership. These possibilities will be addressed in the con- cluding chapter of this book. 2 Political Culture and Leadership under Communism: GDR Socialization In many respects, postcommunist elite building did not begin suddenly in 1989 when the old regime collapsed. Elite building originated in the old system and was shaped by the contours of power and ideology in the GDR. The old regime limited access to political office, fostered particular types of relationships in society, and influenced the development of political beliefs and behaviors. An investigation of postcommunist state parliamen- tarians must therefore begin by briefly examining features of the GDR regime and culture. Other studies have more systematically investigated the GDR state and society.! The opening of the GDR archives has led to significant new research on the anatomy of the GDR state and society.” The examination of the past in this chapter and the next brings into focus several interrelated processes that affect postcommunist elite develop- ment: those of regime and state collapse, the transplant of the West Ger- man system, and the replacement of the GDR elite with an overwhelm- ingly new group of politicians. The past also helps us to better understand the outcomes of elite building. Specifically, the patterns of political social- ization and leadership in the old regime have implications for postcom- munist elite recruitment, culture, and performance. The Old Order: Regime and Culture in the GDR In 1946 in the Soviet Zone of occupied Germany, the Socialist Unity Party of Germany (SED) was formed as a result of the forced merger of the German Communist Party (Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands; KPD) and the East 42 Political Leadership under Communism German Social Democratic Party. Over the next few years, the SED brought some of the other existing parties into its orbit as bloc parties in a so-called unity front. Moreover, on cue with the Soviet model, the East German com- munist party also created a network of mass organizations. Then, in 1949, the German Democratic Republic was created in reaction to the founding of the democratic, capitalist Federal Republic of Germany. The SED quickly seized control of all state institutions. All the while, the Soviets were directly involved in the founding, development, and especially the Stalin- ization of the SED regime, first through the Soviet Military Administration and then, in 1949, through the Soviet Control Commission. The GDR, like other Soviet-style regimes in Eastern Europe, was ruled by a communist party that jealously guarded its monopoly on power. Marxist- Leninism provided the guiding ideology of these regimes. Though these regimes called themselves “people’s democracies,” there was no “democ- racy” permitted, in the sense of true electoral competition or the guarantee of the political or civil rights familiar to liberal democracies. Rather, a monolithic, highly centralized, and hierarchical party supposedly knew the will of the people and ruled in their name—in the name of the workers and peasants. Many of the GDR regime founders had fiercely opposed fascism and spent the war years in exile or in prison. Upon their return to the then Soviet-occupied area of Germany, these communists dedicated them- selves to founding an alternative socialist German state. The SED soon became indistinguishable from the GDR state. The party-state tried to pen- etrate all spheres of life—political, economic, social, legal, and cultural. A major preoccupation of the GDR-SED regime was the creation of the “so- cialist personality,” loyal to the principles of Marxism-Leninism, subser- vient to the communist party, and physically and emotionally detached from the “imperialist West”—in particular, from the Federal Republic of Germany. Since its founding, the GDR painstakingly presented itself as an antidote to the “other” Germany. In reality, it found itself in the shadow of the prosperous West Germany. This only served to reinforce the regime’s vigorous attempts to create a sense of “GDR citizenship” and national identity.° The basis for regime and state legitimacy was clearly tied to an ideology and to the notion that the GDR provided an alternative to the FRG. The tenuousness of the GDR regime’s legitimacy and of the state’s very exis- tence contributed to an underlying insecurity among GDR elites. This caused the regime to become one of the most ideologically orthodox, its secret police one of the most repressive, and its society one of the most 43 atomized in the East bloc. Eastern German psychoanalyst Hans-Joachim Maaz even argues that the environment created by the GDR regime “infan- talized” East Germans, making them dependent on the paternalistic state. The origins of the state in postwar European division, its position on the front line of that division, and its existence as the mirror opposite of an- other state produced a highly constrained society where opposition voices were muted or silenced. To comprehend the impact of the old order, it is useful to examine ways in which the society responded to state socialism. Political Culture and Communism Throughout the East bloc, it may be argued, despite the regimes’ efforts to mold communist political cultures, the indigenous cultures and national identities were never entirely extinguished.®° The imposition of commu- nism on the countries of Eastern Europe failed to produce uniform copies of the “official” communist culture proscribed by the Soviet Union. In- stead, there developed various brands of communism, influenced by in- digenous cultures. We might point to the so-called Goulash communism that developed in Hungary. Under the leadership of Janos Kadar, the re- gime in Hungary allowed a second economy to exist, providing the people with limited economic freedoms in return for their regime loyalty (that is, their guarantee not to repeat or even discuss the rebellious events of 1956—the Hungarian Revolution). The Polish and Romanian communist regimes also carved an independent niche for themselves in the commu- nist bloc, taking “national” roads to communism, which often meant inde- pendence from the Soviets in areas of domestic policy (in Poland) or in foreign policy (in Romania). The GDR, however, remained a dogmatically communist and stalwart ally of Moscow. A significant reason for this was the lack of legitimate national discourse that could provide momentum for independent stances vis-a-vis the Soviets or an alternative culture and identity to the one propa- gated by the communist regime.® “Criticizing socialism forever smacked of exculpating Nazism, and any deviation from this Manichaean socialism- versus-capitalism scheme would lead one into the repressed abyss of na- tional identity.”” This Manichaean scheme is what made the GDR regime and political culture different from other Soviet bloc satellites. The very presence of the West German state set the East German regime and society apart from countries like Poland and Czechoslovakia. The presence of a democratic capitalist German state meant that socialism was fundamen- tally important to the identity and culture of the GDR elite and the opposi- 44 Political Leadership under Communism tional culture that emerged. Herein lies a significant reason why an op- position group comparable to the mass-based trade union Solidarity in Poland could not arise in the GDR: there was no national discourse for opposition-minded East Germans to rally around and to contrast with the communist regime. Moreover, East Germans who were opposed to social- ism could find a “home” in the FRG. If it was socialism they opposed, there was another Germany offering a nonsocialist model of life. All one had to do to be banished from the GDR and excommunicated to the West was voice criticism of the GDR or the SED. If they were lucky, “troublemakers” were swiftly shipped off to West Germany. If they were not, they were often jailed. As a result, the “opposition” that stayed behind remained loyal to the East German state, to socialism or, at the very least, to the idea of a better brand of socialism. To understand political culture in the GDR is to understand how East Germans dealt with this pressure for political conformity and the lack of plausible alternatives in the Marxist-Leninist German state. As Mary Fulbrook notes, “The key factor in the East was the issue of political con- formity. From this everything else essentially flowed.”* Although the re- gime intended for conformity and encouraged a strict adherence to social- ist norms, political culture within the GDR developed in unintended ways. The GDR was far from a plural political system; however, it is possi- ble to distinguish broad patterns of motivation, reaction, and perception, or what may be called cultural milieus.? In the GDR, it is possible to deline- ate three political cultural patterns: an official (sometimes called “in- tended”) culture, a private (“real”) culture, and a protest culture.1° The relevance of these patterns extends beyond the GDR period, as they corre- spond to certain postcommunist elite-building developments. The official political culture. The pattern of beliefs, orientations, and be- haviors associated with the official culture was derived from the social and political goals of the East German communist party and propagated systematically by the GDR regime. East German official culture was based on a number of core tenets, including the leading role of the working class and its Marxist-Leninist Party in state and society; the claim that socialist society provided equal life chances to all and that the individual will must be subordinate to the collective; an emphasis on work as the central hu- man life-expression; the political participation and activation of citizens in the organizations of democratic centralism; and the coupling of the socialist way of life with the military policy of the SED and the protection of the socialist homeland, which must be defended against the West, pri- marily the FRG." 45 Despite these tenets and the regime’s claim to be a “corrective” to nega- tive German traditions, elements of the GDR official culture actually per- petuated many aspects of the petty-bourgeois authoritarian state of the German, and particularly the Prussian, tradition. The so-called revolution from above, the imposition of socialist political values to counter the nega- tive images of German traditions, maintained several dimensions of tradi- tional German culture—namely, the authoritarian tradition with its sepa- ration of state and society; the idea of the neutrality of the state that is not an expression of the society but is, rather, above the society; and the politi- cal values of subservience (Untertanen), obedience, and political absten- tion. In a statist tradition, the state is viewed as an independent entity and as the highest authority. Continuing this tradition, the GDR state became the instrument of the SED. Bureaucrats were not neutral servants of the state but party cadres. Moreover, citizens were not participants in society and politics: they were to be mobilized for the goals of the party. This authoritarian model of politics encouraged what may be called an “output,” or passive, orientation to politics, whereby “[o]ne reckoned the state would take care of providing protection and order and the communal activities would provide warmth and coziness.”!? Through socialist laws that claimed to further the welfare of the people over the will of the indi- vidual, East Germans could expect security. The idea that the state protects society, providing a minimum of security and welfare, relieved the indi- vidual from having to worry about such matters. These aspects of the dominant culture were widely internalized and proved difficult to adjust to the new political, economic, and social order after 1989.1° Elements of the old German working-class culture with roots in prein- dustrial, peasant, craftsman, and plebeian Volkskultur continued in the GDR. The vital role of work was deeply embedded in GDR citizens and was supported by a number of organizations, not only the party and its social organizations and unions but also hobby and sport clubs and cul- tural organizations. The collective identity cultivated by the regime cast the GDR primarily as a workers’ society, with “work that is conscientious, honest, and useful-for-society as the heart of the socialist way of life.”14 In work, East Germans could find all essential needs, such as income and social security, provision for families’ shelter, food and daycare, provision of cultural activities, as well as free-time and vacation activities. Looking back at her life in the GDR, the Brandenburg minister of labor, social pol- icy, health and women, Regine Hildebrandt, said this: Twenty-six years of career-life, with very strenuous workdays, not only meant a scientific life for me but was also filled with good con- 46 Political Leadership under Communism tacts with female and male colleagues, and an active recreational life in the labor collective, which included about thirty people. There were brigade celebrations, a brigade journal, where some touching experiences were recorded. There were professional excursions un- dertaken with colleagues and their families; we hiked, grilled, and sang together. There were sports and other festivities. We created a mineralogical task force that, ambitiously, searched for and then ex- hibited our processed stones. All those things were fun and fostered friendships.'® Schutz und Gehorsam, the notion of protection and belonging, was a sig- nificant aspect of GDR statist culture. The state was the economic motor and solver of social problems. The loyalty of East Germans to the GDR-SED state proved eventually to be conditional; that is, it depended on con- tinually improving economic and social security. This conditionality be- came Clearer in the late 1980s, when the economic problems became more visible. In any case, aspects of the Prussian-German state orientation were pre- served in the ritualism, militarism, and authoritarianism of the GDR-SED re- gime. East German society was characterized by a culture of conflict avoid- ance, formalism, and a desire for security. As a result, “the communist-goal culture of the GDR shaped a strange amalgam of norms, handed down through generations of a Protestant- and Prussian-characterized people, and postulated a new personality type whose version of revolutionary Marxist-Leninism often appeared only as rhetorical decoration.” In East Germany, rather than a solidaristic, classless society, there was a gulf be- tween the authoritarian SED leadership and the masses that affected society profoundly and linked the GDR with the Prussian Junkertum of the past. At the same time, in the West German state after 1949 traditional values were transformed through internationalization, the Western market orientation of politics, and exposure to and interactions with so-called new value orientations.” The goals of the GDR culture were first spelled out in the GDR constitu- tion and then in 1958 in the contours of the socialist personality outlined by Walter Ulbricht, the first general secretary of the SED, in his ten “Funda- mentals of the Socialist Ethic and Morality.”'® The intention of the party elite was to create a rationally, as well as emotionally, founded acceptance of Marxist-Leninism. The ideological foundation of the intended culture was double-edged: it was based both on the rationality of a planned econ- omy with its bureaucratic tutelage and on socialist utopianism. As such, 47 the GDR official culture was one of irreconcilable contradictions and con- flicting goals. Through the imposition of this highly ideological frame- work on society, the GDR elite sought to create legitimacy simultaneously for Marxist-Leninism, the party, the regime, and the state. As a result, when the legitimacy of one of these pillars eroded, the legitimacy of the others was undermined as well. The seeds of the breakdown of the regime were thus contained in the regime’s foundation. Socialization into the official culture. In order to create a political culture supportive of its goals, the SED regime, in true “bureaucratic, collectivist” style, exercised unbridled state intervention. The socialization instru- ments of the state followed a “uniformity principle” (Einheitlichkeit), which integrated all levels of education, beginning with daycare and pre- school. The ministries of culture, “people’s education,” high and technical schools, and, since 1967, the ministry for science and technology were all part of this political socialization effort. To create support for the regime, political-ideological education, particularly the mandatory subjects of “citizenship instruction,” history, geography, and “homeland instruction” (Heimatkunde), aimed to mold young “GDR citizens.” In addition to a cur- riculum rich with Marxist-Leninist principles, anticapitalism, and anti- Western ideals, the regime also infused the educational sphere with the principles of military education.’ Thus, at an early age, East Germans were exposed to the siege mentality of the SED regime. This militarization of GDR education became a source of great resentment among East Ger- mans, as well as a rallying point for the budding East German peace move- ment in the early 1980s. Adult education was another component of ideological education and included “employee academies,” especially, in the fields of science and technology. These academies were vehicles for politicizing and mobiliz- ing the workplace, in particular that of the scientific and technical intelli- gentsia, for furthering the goals of the regime.”° Mandatory military service was another agent of state influence on societal norms and goals in the GDR. The National People’s Army, or National Volksarmee, aimed to create the “citizen in uniform.” The continuity of Prussian-German mili- tary traditions was reflected not only in the goals of military education but also more visibly in the uniforms of the People’s Army, which were similar to those of the earlier German Wehrmacht, in the goose-step of the troops, and in the taste of the elite for rituals and military ceremonies. Societal organizations were also essential to the state’s effort to steer political culture. Whereas in liberal democratic systems such organiza- 4s Political Leadership under Communism tions are autonomous, that is free from state steering, in the GDR and other communist regimes societal organizations were the “transmission belts” of the party. The system of mass organizations controlled by the SED played a central role in the integration and mobilization of society. These organi- zations were “schools of socialism” and also played an important function in grooming party cadres. The organizations also acted as channels of information flowing from the party membership back to the leadership. The largest organization, with 9.6 million members (out of a total popula- tion of sixteen million) in 1988, was the Freie Deutsche Gewerkschafts- bund (the Confederation of Free German Trade Unions). The confedera- tion was active in the cultural and educational spheres of working people and functioned as a mediator between the party, state companies, and employees. Youth organizations complemented the political-ideological and mili- tary training young East Germans received in school. The Free German Youth (Freie Deutsche Jugend) played the most central role in the mo- bilization and integration of the youth into the socialist society. Freie Deutsche Jugend organized about three-fourths of all fourteen- to twenty- five-year-olds and was an important reservoir for cadre careers in the party and state. The Pionierorganisation “Ernst Thalmann” (Pioneer Organiza- tion named for the communist politician in Weimar Germany) organized about 1.5 million pupils into the Young Pioneers, between six and nine years of age, and the Thalmann Pioneers, between ten and fourteen. A section of the by-laws and principles of the children’s organization reveals its support for official-intended regime norms; “We Thalmann Pioneers... live [for] and protect peace and hate warmongers . . . study hard, are orderly and disciplined . . . love work, respect every type of work and all working people . . . love the true, are trustworthy, and friends with one another.”*! The state-sponsored Jugendweihe (youth consecration—the secular alternative to confirmation), moreover, was part of the rites of passage in GDR socialist society, marking the graduation from the Pioneers to the Freie Deutsche Jugend. So deeply ingrained was this ceremony in East German life that many easterners continued the ritual after 1990, albeit minus the political-ideological underpinnings. Though all citizens of the GDR were exposed to the total political- ideological socialization efforts of the regime, probably a minority of East Germans were actually committed to the proclaimed goals. The pressures and incentives to join the SED were everywhere, presenting themselves in the form of education opportunities and career advancement. Higher edu- cation and good jobs were usually tied to SED membership, ensuring that 49 the intellectual, scientific, and technical elite were thoroughly socialized into the official culture. Though there were 2.3 million members of the SED—about one in five adults in the 1980s—few were party functionaries or activists. Many joined the party for personal reasons, such as career advancement, rather than out of genuine conviction. In addition, many East Germans joined the bloc parties of the SED, the Christian Democrats (Christlich Demokratische Union, CDU), Liberal Democrats (Liberaldemokratische Partei Deutsch- lands, LDPD), National Democrats (Nationaldemokratische Partei Deutsch- lands, NDPD), and the Democratic Farmers (Demokratische Bauernpartei Deutschlands, DBD). Until 1948, the CDU and LDPD operated independently of the SED. The NDPD and DBD were created by the communists. All four of the bloc parties cooperated with the SED and were “effectively mouth- pieces for the SED facing different directions only as far as target audiences were concerned.””? (See Appendix B for a list of political parties before and after unification.) If the official culture was internalized and propagated by a minority of East Germans, the real, or dominant, culture was represented by the major- ity of the people in the GDR—das Volk. It has already been noted that most East Germans did not join the communist party. However, among those who joined the SED, its bloc parties, or mass organizations such as the Gewerkschaftsbund, did so not necessarily out of conviction, but as a means of getting by or playing along as necessary to prevent hardships for oneself or one’s family. Although these people did not participate in mak- ing political decisions, they did help the system function in a variety of ways. Of particular relevance in this regard, was the subgrouping of East German society we might call the “gray zone,” to borrow a term that Jirina Siklova employed in the case of Czechoslovakia.”* The gray zone was located between the socialist establishment and the dominant culture. Though individuals in the zone were not part of the nomenklatura (com- munist elite), they often worked within the structures of the state in a variety of nonparty capacities, for example as lawyers, professors, scien- tists, engineers, managers of enterprises and agricultural cooperatives, medical personnel, and even as teachers. These jobs were “parking orbits,” to use Ivan Szelenyi’s metaphor, for persons who sought roles in society and economy but, for a variety of reasons, apart from the bureaucratic politics of the regime.** As a result, many of these eastern Germans pos- sessed an education and training that would give them an edge in the new postcommunist system. Their professional backgrounds allowed many from the gray zone to move into positions in the new administrative and 50 Political Leadership under Communism political institutions. In the GDR, these included many members of the bloc parties and mass organizations. For a number of these people, their connections to the old system raise the question of collaboration with the old guard and culpability for the problems of the old system. Similarly, the willingness of some individuals to “arrange themselves” in the new sys- tem without accepting any responsibility for the past has drawn charges of opportunism to some postcommunist eastern elites, about which more will be said in chapter 5. The GDR political elite was comprised of a much smaller group of in- siders far removed from the people—not only in terms of political interests and ideas but in terms of status and living conditions. Their privileged status was well hidden, and it was only after the old regime collapsed that East Germans found out about the secret retreats and lodges like the Wand- litz compound for elites and their families on the outskirts of Berlin. If we define the political elite of the GDR as those who participated in political power, the political leadership nucleus included the full and candidate members of the Politburo, the secretaries of the Central Committee of the SED, the first secretaries of the SED district committees, the SED members of the Presidium of the Council of Ministers of the GDR, the chairmen of the National Defense Committee of the GDR and the Council of State of the GDR, and the president of the People’s Chamber.”° Surrounding this nu- cleus of GDR elites were thousands of intermediate-level cadres. These elites, as well as elites in the military, economic, scientific, educational, and cultural spheres, were socialized in, and recruited from, the official culture exclusively.”° Compared with other East-Central European communist countries, no significant reform wing developed within the GDR elite.?”? The harsh re- pression of reform movements in Hungary in 1956, Czechoslovakia in 1968, and Poland in 1980-81 may have discouraged dissent within the SED from crystallizing. Individuals such as Rudolf Bahro who tried to cri- tique the GDR’s implementation of Marxist-Leninism were stripped of party membership and often expelled from the GDR.** Any latent counter- potential had been effectively neutralized until it was too late and events in 1989-90 had overtaken the SED’s ability to reform itself. After the collapse of communism in the GDR, some members of the elite, particularly in the technical fields, found their way into positions of some authority in the postcommunist economic order, notably in the Treuhand Anstalt, the holding company for state-owned companies and real estate. However, most of the true believers, the ideologues of the official political culture, were discredited by the Wende, the transition from communism. 51 Today they stand on the margins of society, finding comfort only in the Party of Democratic Socialism (PDS), the successor party to the SED. Even there, the old guard’s comfort is limited by a new generation of social- democratic-leaning PDs leaders. As future chapters demonstrate, the repre- sentatives of the GDR elite who remained active in politics after 1990 are what Thomas Baylis has called the “lower nobility” of the old guard— middle- and, mostly, lower-level officials.?9 The private culture of the niche society. The regime’s efforts to politicize all spheres of public life in the GDR effectively had the opposite effect: rather than creating a monoculture of “true believers,” the reaction of most East Germans to the pressure for political conformity was apoliticism—a disinterest in political life, even passivity. Although not the overt in- tention of the regime, this disposition complemented the regime goals and leadership style quite well: even if there were few true believers, the majority of the population was unwilling to risk engaging in regime- contradicting behavior. As a result, the most prevalent response to the imposed nature of GDR political culture was to withdraw from anything political or official and to seek refuge in the private sphere. The retreat to the privacy of the family began at a very early age: due to the high percentage of working parents, including mothers, most East German children were exposed very early to the guardian role of the socialist state in the daycare centers and pre- schools. Among friends and within the family, an “unofficial” set of rules, values, behaviors, and even language developed in everyday life. Alongside the official direct influences on political culture in the GDR, there were important nonstate socialization agents such as family, peer groups, and the churches. In these spheres people could receive informa- tion independent of the official version. Moreover, Western television and relatives visiting from the FRG provided additional sources of information and channels to the outside, noncommunist world. Religion and peer groups, especially under the protective shelter of the Protestant church, played an indirect but important role in political social- ization in the GDR. By carving out a niche of its own “within socialism,” the Protestant church was able to maintain a degree of independence from the state. Though it was, for the most part, left alone by the state, the church’s criticisms were from within socialism; within the established constellation of power. Church-sponsored groups provided a sense of be- longing and solidarity that was privately found, in contrast to the soli- darity and collective identity imposed by the regime. 52 Political Leadership under Communism In addition to providing information and imparting values that were independent of the official ideology, these groups afforded East Germans the opportunity to pursue nonstate forms of educational and occupational opportunities. For example, the barriers to education and jobs to nonparty and Freie Deutsche Jugend members were partially alleviated by pursuing an alternative Abitur, college preparatory study, through theological study. In addition, particular occupational spheres allowed East Germans a rela- tive amount of privacy and distance from the intrusions of the official culture, particularly the clergy. Despite the totalizing, intrusiveness, and uniformity of the official cul- ture, a minority actually believed what the regime said, and the majority understood that the rhetoric was not consistent with reality. Yet the major- ity used the official language and culture when necessary to get by. One did not have to believe what was being said to understand what was meant or expected. East Germans were familiar with this ritual of false represen- tation. Most people learned to adapt, to “arrange themselves,” and not dissent openly in public but only in private. People played along in order to get by and, perhaps, to extract whatever advantages were possible in the repressive system. What resulted was role-playing in official circles, in schools, on the job, and at organization meetings, and “private authen- ticity” among friends. Whether one calls it a double culture, a two-track existence, or a niche society,*° many East Germans chose to retreat to the private realm. In their private niches, Giinter Gaus observed, there existed the “closeness and Kleinbiirgerlichkeit” of the “true Germans.”*! East Ger- mans found an escape from the intrusive official culture in their Klein- gdrten—allotment gardens, weekend Dacha—cottages, and also by watch- ing the West German evening news on television (something that all East Germans, except for those in the Dresden area, could do). As some observers of GDR culture argue, however, the recoiling from politics and public life also led to a withdrawal from personal respon- sibility. In essence, the “guardian state” neutralized the citizen. For some, “(t]he regular intrusion of the guardian state in individual biographies was not found as totally negative: this release from autonomy and personal responsibility meant also much security—security which certainly was to be paid for by incapacitation.”’? The repressive system of “really existing socialism” kept people in eternal childhood, freed from the responsibil- ities of adults and trapped in a situation of subordination and social con- formism.*? Another response to the immense pressures for conformity was a desire for normalcy or anonymity, rather than distinction and “self- styling.” In this regard, the private culture stood in stark contrast to the small, but heroic, protest milieu in the GDR. 53 The relationship between the people of the GDR and the authoritarian state has been described as an “emergency community of citizens against the state.”** The arrangement between the state and the people of the GDR and, concomitantly, between the official and the “real” political cultures was not so much opposed to each other as it was dualistic and comple- mentary.*° These two spheres fed off each other: one was intrusive and paternalistic, while the other was neutralized and preferred a secure life of anonymity, what Fulbrook calls the “retreatist compliance of the niche society. ”°° In the place of civic participation and organization, the GDR regime and culture resulted in “social atomization” and what Timothy Garton Ash has called “civic neutralization.”*”7 As East German civic activist Gerd Poppe pointed out, “The entire society displayed a specific passivity .. . a great abstinence where politics was concerned. That is no good premise for the development of a political culture.”** In response to the unpleasant intru- sions of the SED-state, the niche culture preserved a number of orientations of traditional German political culture, such as the characteristics of the Biedermeier, a satirical name for an uninspired German bourgeois, Unter- tanengeist (obedience), privatism, and political apathy. Ironically, the withdrawal from official culture and escape to the private sphere does not preclude people looking to the state for their well-being, for security and comfort. After 1945, the tradition of a society and economy based on top- down planning was transformed in the FRG; in the GDR, by contrast, it was strengthened, by the socialist state bureaucracy and its planned economy. Rather than encouraging and rewarding innovation, individual respon- sibility, and initiative, the GDR system sought to render the individual helpless and dependent. In contrast to the FRG, where political culture developed away from the gemeinschafts orientation to a more individu- alistic and conflict-oriented one, the GDR preserved a collective orienta- tion that, it might be argued, provided little experience with the West German-style culture. Though many East Germans recognized that such an existence was es- sentially passive and compliant, they were convinced the system could endure unchanged indefinitely, at least for the rest of their lifetime. And although the East German population was not completely aware of the extent of the economic difficulties in the GDR in the 1980s, there was sufficient evidence to lead many East Germans to suspect there was a significant gap between official claims and economic realities.*° The re- sponse of most people, however, was to wait and to try to make do by concentrating on their own family and peer groups. Not everyone chose conformity and grumbling. Numerous East Ger- 54 Political Leadership under Communism mans fled the GDR. Instead of the “inner emigration” of the private sphere, millions of East Germans chose to emigrate to the west. The numbers of émigrés grew dramatically after the workers’ uprising of June 17, 1953, was countered with Soviet tanks. By the time the Berlin Wall was built in 1961 to contain this outpouring of East Germans, two million people had fled the GDR. Moreover, the dominant culture began to slowly change in the late 1970s. Following the rapprochement initiated by the West German gov- ernment’s Ostpolitik, which led to an increase in economic and cultural contacts between the FRG and GDR, expectations were raised in the east. For a growing number of East Germans, particularly the youth, the predic- tability and stability of the GDR was becoming less acceptable, while the desire for more freedom and openness increased.*° Erich Honecker’s visit to Bonn in 1987 also significantly raised East Germans’ expectations that the SED regime would embark on a process of liberalization. When those hopes were not realized, frustration grew among many East Germans. In just a few years, however, those hopes would be fulfilled by a peace- ful challenge to the GDR regime and the beginning of a transition toward democracy. By 1990, regime-enforced conformity was replaced by a new and unfamiliar set of political, economic, and social norms and institu- tions, which, in turn, produced a new kind of anxiety and insecurity for many East Germans. In the postcommunist situation, with a new regime and a new discourse, finding one’s bearings often proved to be difficult. In an all-new environment, the individual was left to interpret, make choices, and take risks. Though freed of the intrusive guardian state, many East Germans found themselves alone, without the familiar networks and roles they had known all their lives. GDR political socialization had significant implications for political cultural development in the new Lander after 1990. This “GDR legacy” not only affected the values and attitudes easterners hold regarding their own role in the political system, it also influenced orientations to political institutions and leaders. GDR socialization fostered a discomfort with am- biguity and political compromise, characteristics that do not prepare the individual for a political and economic system based on bargaining, coali- tion building, and market forces. GDR political socialization, moreover, provided no guide for navigating the rules and institutions of plural de- mocracy, nor did it contribute to the individual’s ability to conceptualize and articulate political positions independently, free from elite cues. GDR socialization encouraged neither a sense of political efficacy, nor more fundamentally, a feeling of political self-confidence. Finally, GDR social- 55 ization did not prepare people to take risks or initiative, nor to accept personal responsibility. Many members of the postcommunist leadership came from deep in the niche society and had decidedly apolitical lives in the GDR. Like Kon- rad L., the character sketched in the introduction, these people kept a low profile until it was clearly “safe” to emerge from the private protective sphere. As a reservoir for the postcommunist elite after 1989, this milieu provided no practical political or administrative experience. As chapters 5 and 6 will demonstrate, this general lack of political experience among new eastern elites has implications for their beliefs and behaviors in their new parliamentary roles. An alternative culture—A Gegenelite?. An examination of the protest po- tential in the GDR requires some discussion of relevant concepts. “Alter- native culture” and “alternative elite” suggest that a culture or group stands outside of the official culture and the established elite poised to replace the old regime. Gegenelite (roughly translated as an oppositional elite) refers to persons or groups whose ideas about governance and politi- cal system goals are in fundamental contrast to those of the established elite. The idea of a Gegenelite, moreover, is more complex than merely “alternative,” because gegen suggests an anti-elite orientation—not just to the incumbent elites, but to the very idea of an elite, a class of rulers, or a hierarchy in general. Analysts of the West German Greens and other social movements have noted the ideological and practical problems that the gegen element posed for social movement activists.*! Specifically, assum- ing the goal of removing the established elites was achieved, who should replace them? The troublesome relationship to power and, specifically, the lack of will to assume political leadership positions in the transition to a new order posed a central problem for Gegenelite. The potential for developing an alternative elite in the GDR was clearly limited compared to other Soviet bloc countries, such as Hungary, Poland, or even Czechoslo- vakia. In particular, the East German intellectual and artistic community presented a special problem. Since dissent was not tolerated by the regime and was harshly dealt with, critical intellectuals in the GDR were caught between exile and complicity. The existence of an intellectual and artistic community required a healthy dose of regime loyalty. Of course there were exceptions who voiced regime criticism in their novels or music, but these rebels periodically found themselves in jail, under house arrest, or in exile. In general, GDR intellectuals were not anticommunist or antiregime. For 56 Political Leadership under Communism this reason, after the revolution of 1989, they were not trusted by many East Germans to fill the leadership vacuum. Oppositional intellectuals had been neutralized or banished to the West by the SED regime by the time the revolutions spread throughout Eastern Europe and to the GDR. Else- where in the East bloc, intellectuals were waiting in the wings as protest potential able to take active roles in the process of renewal in those societies. Yet, despite the threat of repression, a minority of East Germans were not satisfied to wait passively in a niche or privately disagree with the official culture. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, a tiny minority of East Germans, particularly among the younger generation, began to meet with other like-minded “alternative thinkers” in small groups throughout the GDR. Wolfgang Bergem explains, “The overwhelmingly young representa- tives of this alternative political culture separated themselves consciously and decisively from the state-propagated pattern of values and orienta- tions, but also from the political escapism of the overwhelmingly older niche-dwellers.”4? Elements of an alternative protest, or conflict, culture became more vis- ible in the GDR in the eighties. Emerging protest-oriented groups con- cerned with topics such as peace and ecology found a safe haven under the protective roof of the Protestant church. Since the 1960s, the church had defined itself as the “church in socialism”: “The Church in socialism does not mean that the church opts for socialism, but that it admits that social- ism is the place of its activity and (therefore) must bargain with it to present itself as the voice of civic values and western traditions in so- ciety.”*3 The church achieved a degree of maneuverability in the GDR, of which it took full advantage, offering a place where reform-minded East Germans could discuss the problems of GDR society relatively free from the intrusions of the state. In this “school of democracy” the critical poten- tial of the alternative culture was nourished. The result was the “develop- ment of a political-discussion-culture on the basis of a Christian ethic of responsibility.”** Members of the protest culture were generally noncon- ventional, socially engaged, democratic-minded, well-educated, young, and idealistic. Groups concerned with human rights, peace, ecology, women, and gay rights emerged but were never ideologically nor organizationally unified. This protest potential was comprised of diverse voices. What these groups had in common was that they were operating outside the official state realm and they were working toward changing the stagnant, unresponsive, and repressive policies of the regime. Moreover, these groups, it should be 57 noted, were not oppositional in the sense of rejecting socialism in the GDR entirely or supporting a Western form of capitalist democracy in its place. Rather, they were opposed to particular developments in their country, such as the militarization of GDR education, and certain positions of their government, especially concerning peace and human rights. The Biirgerrechtler, or civil rights activists, who emerged in the late 1980s overwhelmingly asserted that their goal was not to do away with the socialist system of the GDR, but rather to introduce a number of changes, particularly concerning civil rights such as the freedoms of speech and movement. Essentially, these Biirgerrechtler challenged the SED regime to honor its own claims regarding human rights and to live up to the inter- national Helsinki Accords of 1975 on human rights to which the GDR was a signatory party. Human rights became the rallying point for protest- minded East Germans. The issue of freedom was a response to unfreedom, peace a response to the militarization of society, and human rights a re- sponse to dictatorship. The protest culture that developed in the GDR was qualitatively different from other dissident movements in the communist bloc. As Christian Joppke points out, “[D]emands for rights and liberty are always raised by, or in the name of, a bounded collectivity. In Eastern Europe, this collectivity has been the ‘nation.’ In East Germany, there could be no dissidence proper because no unambiguous ‘nation’ existed in which it could be grounded.”*® To expand on an earlier point, while in other East bloc countries national traditions and symbols became rallying points for opposition to communism, these symbols were more problem- atic—given the division of the German nation and the war and Holocaust that preceded that division. Moreover, antisocialist dissent would have questioned the very basis of the GDR, not just a particular set of leaders or the socialist regime. In addition to these identitive or cultural issues, there were certain structural differences between the GDR and other cases that further dif- ferentiated its protest milieu. For instance, in Poland, Solidarity was an expression of working-class unrest in that country. Eventually, Solidarity’s workers and opposition-minded intellectuals formed a powerful alliance that effectively challenged the Polish communist regime. In contrast, East Germany appeared to offer its citizens a better economic and social con- tract. The GDR regime, moreover, went to great lengths to create pride in the economic performance of the country. Compared to the economic sta- tus of other East-Central European societies, East Germans had relatively little cause for worker unrest. As a result, an alliance between the critical intelligentsia and a frustrated working class never emerged the way it did 58 Political Leadership under Communism in Poland. In fact, East German dissidents did not articulate the interests of any particular mass-based group. Moreover, unlike Solidarity or Charter 77 (the underground human rights movement in Czechoslovakia), East German dissidents were far more homogeneous: ideologically, they fa- vored a better, “more humane” socialism—not a nonsocialist alternative— and socially, many came from nomenklatura circles. The GDR protest culture wanted to realize “humanistic” socialism. As such, it did not pre- sent a force opposed to the regime; rather, it opposed the regime’s flawed vision of socialism. In the fall of 1989, these East Germans led the push for glasnost and perestroika in the GDR; however, their marked socialist ori- entation prevented them from building bridges to the mass public. Finally, it must be said that the ubiquitous mechanism of repression in the GDR, the Stasi (reportedly the most ruthless secret police in the Soviet bloc), was another factor that prevented the development of an opposi- tional elite comparable to those in Hungary, Poland, or even Czechoslo- vakia.*° This organization, with its macabre practices, such as archiving smells of its citizens and poisoning protest-minded East Germans, clearly contributed to the disarray of the nascent counterelite. As a result of these conditions in the GDR, the protest groups that emerged in the 1980s were organizationally very weak. Moreover, the mobilization potential of protest groups was weakened by their ideological distance from average people—from das Volk. Detlef Pollack, professor of theology in Leipzig, explains, “In a population whose behavior was determined by inconspicu- ousness and normalcy, the groups faced the rejection of the people due to their eccentric style of self-presentation.”*” By “style,” he means the de- monstrative, attention-drawing actions of the protest group, which tried to force taboos or controversial ideas into the open space in a challenge to the established order, the style of a minority that wished to come out of hiding, to open East German society up for discussion of the problems facing the GDR, to critically debate “real-existing socialism” (as opposed to theoret- ical or intended socialism), and to promote citizen involvement. The dif- ference between this cultural milieu and that of the dominant culture was its emphasis on voice and participation. In sum, the protest culture was opposed both to the authoritarianism, paternalism, hierarchy, and milita- rism of the official culture and the passivity and private-action orientation of the dominant culture. As such, it was stigmatized by the political estab- lishment and on the margins of GDR society. The protest culture in the GDR had always been limited to a brave few. It was a moral force and a critical corrective in society.*® However, due to the idealism that underlay the protest groups’ difficult relationship to power, many of the representatives of this alternative culture were “hesitant 59 elites” in the transition. In bringing about the revolutionary events of 1989, the protest culture played the essential role of a motor for change. After starting the process of change that would eventually lead to the implosion of the old system, the role of the Biirgerrechtler became uncer- tain, and there was much disagreement about whether the civic groups should remain a movement or become political parties and thus institu- tional actors. Eventually, through a lack of organization and will to power, as well as a lack of popular backing, these groups were marginalized in the political transition period. The East Germans, who in 1990 organized themselves as political parties, accepted logistical assistance from West Germany, and appealed to the concerns of average citizens (namely swift democratization and economic stability through free-marketization) pre- vailed over the revolutionaries. The protest culture was again in the shad- ows. The civic activists went their separate ways, and few remained in public life after unification. The protest culture was the symbol of hope for democratic renewal and the ferment of revolutionary change. It may have acted as a “moral” elite, but it did not represent the interests, values, ideas, or identity of the major- ity of East Germans. In the final analysis, the Gegenelite were committed to the idea of a socialist GDR. With this commitment, they eventually alienated those who wanted to end the system rather than rejuvenate it, das Volk. Implications for Postcommunist Elite Recruitment In 1990, sixteen million East Germans found themselves in a new system with all unfamiliar norms and procedures. What united Ossis (eastern- ers)—the common bond of having lived behind the Iron Curtain and grow- ing up in the socialist GDR—set them apart from their new brothers and sisters, the Wessis. This fact is likely to have implications for the extension of a democratic political culture to the east and for the societal integration of reunified Germany. Yet, as we have seen, there were divergent back- grounds or political socialization experiences within the GDR—including the traditions, routines, expectations, behaviors, and attitudes with which they are associated. These differences, too, are likely to have implications in the new democratic setting. The institutional and cultural factors rooted in the GDR past affect postcommunist elite building in a number of ways. In terms of postcom- munist elite recruitment, the GDR regime and its patterns of socialization had a profound effect on what we might call “elite reservoirs.” The regime elite consisted of a small, tightly knit core of individuals whose legitimacy 60 Political Leadership under Communism was inextricably tied to an ideology. The resulting communist orthodoxy prevented any significant reform elite that might retain a leading role in the democratization process from emerging in this case. The nature of the GDR regime also prevented the emergence of an alternative elite that would have been willing and able to assume leadership positions when the old regime collapsed. Moreover, very few people possessed admin- istrative and leadership qualifications and had not been coopted in one way or another by the communist regime. In order to attain the skills and qualifications useful for leadership positions, one had to have participated in some way in the official realm. As a result, in the transition from communism, where a premium was placed on recruiting “politically untainted” personnel to the new demo- cratic institutions, filling the leadership vacuum posed a challenge. In the administrative institutions of the five new Ldnder, the challenge was met, in part, by recruiting external actors (West German elites) to fill the leader- ship gap. In the political institutions, the political parties themselves and then the electorate replaced the old guard with largely new, politically inexperienced persons. Most of the postcommunist leadership in the new state parliaments has come from the silent majority of the former private culture and from the gray areas between the private and official spheres of the GDR. The attitudes and norms for behavior of the first generation of post- communist elites was also shaped, in part, by the GDR experience. The egalitarian values, the emphasis on collective rights and socialist soli- darity, the anti-elite bias of communism and the avoidance of conflict and “self-styling” are likely to influence elite character after communism. By the same token, the rigid hierarchy, paternalism, and statism of the old system are also likely to have an impact on postcommunist attitudes and norms of behavior. The antagonistic nature of elite-mass relations in the GDR is a difficult legacy to overcome. Among the mass public, there per- sists a mistrust of elites and a low level of political efficacy. Among elites, there is a hesitation, at least initially, to lead, as well as a discomfort with the idea of being an “elite.” The results for elite development have been mixed: the “everyday” backgrounds of elites and their familiarity with the cultural norms asso- ciated with the old regime puts them “in touch” with the concerns of aver- age citizens. On the other hand, these political neophytes possess little decision-making experience, negotiating skills, or management expertise. This fact put them at an even greater disadvantage in negotiating unifica- tion with West German politicians and meant the new elites would have much to learn about operating in the new system after 1990. 3 East German Leadership in the Revolutionary Year 1989-1990: Elite Circulation The political elite of the GDR changed little in four decades. When elite change did occur, it was through a policy of gradual co-optation and gener- ational change rather than abrupt shifts. In 1989, Erich Honecker was in his eighteenth year as general secretary of the SED and leader of the GDR. Like other hardline communists, he surrounded himself with old-school Stalinists. This old guard was stubborn, firmly entrenched in the party and state institutions of the GDR, and deeply confident of its own infallibility. Honecker was unabashedly critical of Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev’s reforms (Honecker even banned certain Soviet publications for being too radically democratic and, therefore, subversive) and was openly disdain- ful of the reforms under way in Poland and Hungary. In January 1989, Honecker proclaimed that the Berlin Wall would stand for another one hundred years. As much as he resisted developments in other communist bloc coun- tries and tried to delegitimate them, not even a hardliner like Honecker could prevent the combination of domestic and external pressures from affecting his country. Due to the GDR leadership’s resistance to reforms, however, political change was not to be negotiated, or brought about by pact, as in Poland or Hungary; instead, it was driven by an uncharacteristic explosion of mass protest. The slogans shouted by demonstrators in the fall of 1989 reflected the frustration of the East German people with a hier- archical and ossified party leadership completely out of touch with the people: “We are the people,” “Liberty—Equality—Honesty,” “The ‘leading role’ belongs to the people,” “The people lead, and the party limps be- 62 East German Leadership in 1989-1990 hind,” “Imagine socialism—and nobody runs away,” “Democracy—now or never!” The message to the Honecker regime was clear: we will decide the political future of this country—you are through! The period of revolutionary political change in the GDR in the summer and fall of 1989 is often referred to as the Wende—the “turn” away from “really existing socialism” in the GDR and from the one-party rule of the SED. The events and experiences of 1989-90 can be viewed as an initiation into democracy, introducing East Germans to new opportunities for ex- pression, self-organization, and influencing the direction of their country. The revolution of 1989, brief as it was, was also a crucial arena for the recruitment of new political actors. It was during this phase that a number of new actors mobilized, resulting in an unprecedented degree of elite circulation; that is, a widespread replacement of old elites with new per- sonnel, including members of the opposition.? It was also during this phase that the pull of external forces, namely the FRG and its leadership, began to guide the democratization process in the GDR. The Collapse of the Old Regime The regime crisis that launched the transition to democracy in the GDR was not initiated by regime elites.’ It was clearly a movement from below, from society. The spring and summer of 1989 witnessed the blossoming of civil society, whereby a variety of nonstate groups moved into the public sphere and onto the political stage. Previously marginal or powerless indi- viduals and groups became active and effectual players in shaping the political agenda. In particular, this period saw the brief mobilization of a group of potential alternatives to the SED regime elite: the civic activists (Biirgerrechtler) who gave voice to a long-silent majority. Ultimately, how- ever, these new actors were not prepared to lead a new order. This pluralization of East German political actors was part of a larger regional phenomenon in 1989, with new political forms, such as round- tables and forums, emerging first in Poland and Hungary, then in the GDR and Czechoslovakia. At these roundtables, opposition groups participated in political debates, leading at times to cooperation between “new” and “old” actors. The Polish and Hungarian communists recognized the inevi- tability of reform and participated in discussions about reforming the sys- tem. In contrast, the more dogmatic regimes in Czechoslovakia and the GDR went on refusing change until it was too late. By the time they agreed to hold roundtable talks with opposition forces, their credentials as re- formers were acceptable to few citizens. In both cases, the intransigence of 63 the former elite cost them their role in the transition to a new political order. The similarities between the Czechoslovak and East German cases end there. The cast of actors who played roles in the East German revolution- ary changes of 1989 differed in a very important respect. In addition to “old” elites, potential alternative elites from the civic movement (Biirger- bewegung), and new actors from the previously silent majority, another category of actors played a major role in East Germany’s reforms—the FRG, specifically its government in Bonn and its political parties. The story of the revolutionary upheaval in the GDR is described in great detail elsewhere;* however, in order to understand the nature of the regime crisis and the shifts in the cast of actors in the GDR in 1989, we need to briefly recall the major twists in the plot of the East German revolution. It is important to distinguish between a “civic” period in the revolution, which mobilized hundreds of thousands of East Germans to protest against the distortion of socialism in the GDR and to push for democratic reforms, and a “national” period, which saw widespread impatience with reform social- ism and moved in the direction of swift system change through unification with the West German state. The distinction between civic and national periods of the revolution re- veals a shift in both the goals for political change and the actors involved. The character of the civic revolution of October-November 1989 is re- vealed in the slogan shouted by antiregime demonstrators from Berlin to Leipzig—“We are the people!” After decades of taking orders from the regime, these demonstrators asserted themselves and demanded that the regime be responsive to the people. Newspaper headlines from this period also capture the emancipatory spirit of the civic revolution: “Pressure from Below Grows” (Der Spiegel), “Victory for Freedom!” (Berliner Zeitung), and “East Germans Agree in Rejecting Goal of Reunification” (Manchester Guardian). The expressions of empowerment, of rediscovering voice and auton- omy, were soon replaced by slogans with more national feeling, for exam- ple “We are one people” and “Germany—united fatherland.” Headlines now read “West Germany Poised for Leadership” (Washington Post) and “Reunification Next?” (New York Times). The civic group—led movement for the renewal of socialism in the GDR was swiftly replaced by the mass- based celebration of German national and democratic identity and, signifi- cantly, a search for political and economic solutions outside of the frame- work of a separate East German state. The revolution shifted from a civic to a national revolution the evening 64 East German Leadership in 1989-1990 of November 9, 1989, when regime officials announced the easing of travel restrictions between East and West Berlin. The “fall” of the Berlin Wall not only symbolized the end of the Cold War, it also heralded the end of the GDR as a viable alternative to the FRG in the eyes of the mass public. East German citizens gained the power to make decisions about their future and the future of their state—at first by ‘voting with their feet’ (i.e., show- ing disapproval by leaving the GDR) and then by voting at the polls. The Civic Revolution: The First Wende and the First Circulation of Elites The causes of the civic revolution in the GDR—the challenge to the SED regime’s totalizing influence on all spheres of public life—are found in the interplay of external and internal developments in the late eighties. Among the external causes is the contagion effect of perestroika in the Soviet Union and the reform movements in Poland and Hungary. One of the clearest effects of Hungary’s reform movement on the GDR was the Hungarian government’s decision to open its border with Austria in April 1989. This action allowed East Germans to cross from Hungary into the West in large numbers and eventually put pressure on the GDR regime to respond. The interplay between external and internal developments, as illustrated by the Hungarian border example, is evident in the action- reaction dynamic that characterized events in the GDR in the fall of 1989. The opening of the Hungarian border offered a way for East Germans to flee to the West—which they did in alarming numbers—causing concern among those who stayed behind that people were choosing to abandon the GDR rather than try to improve it. The “freedom trains” passing through East German train stations on their way to the West, carrying friends and relatives of those left behind, provided an emotional and symbolic catalyst for the mobilization of democratic opposition in the late summer and fall of 1989. In other words, the result of the “exit” of thousands of East Ger- mans was the expression of “voice” by those left behind.® Voice was also certainly empowered by the wave of reform in the Soviet Union and state- ments by Gorbachev suggesting that reforms in 1989 would not end with the brutal repression by the Soviets witnessed in Berlin in 1953, Budapest in 1956, or Prague in 1968. The GDR regime’s legitimacy deficit grew significantly in the late 1980s.° No longer was the reaction of East Germans “adjustment and grumbling.” The response was increasingly protest and calls for change. Voice became particularly loud when the regime blatantly falsified the results of local elections in May 1989. In the face of widespread boycotting of SED candi- dates, the outcome of the election indicated overwhelming support for the SED. At a time when communist regimes in Poland and Hungary were moving toward reform and dialogue with opposition groups, this alleged act of falsification did not go unchallenged. A civic movement began to crystallize in response. The Pluralization of Political Actors In the summer of 1989, the protest culture became increasingly active. According to the Stasi’s own estimates, reported to the SED in June of 1989, there existed about 150 church-based grassroots groups in the GDR. These included peace circles, environmental groups, women’s groups, human rights groups, and ten so-called alliances. The Stasi report put the total number of persons involved in the protest groups at approximately 2,500 people, with roughly 600 people belonging to the leadership and around 60 representing what the secret police referred to as “the so-called hard- core, comprised of a relatively small number of fanatical . . . largely incor- rigible enemies of socialism.”” At this point, the Stasi responded to the groups with increased surveillance and occasional harassment. On July 1, 1989, members of the Peace Circle and the initiative Absage an Praxis und Prinzip der Abgrenzung wrote an open letter calling for system reform, especially reform of election laws and the guarantee of secret ballots, and criticizing the falsification of the May elections. By this time, the number of grassroots citizens’ initiatives had swelled to around 500. These groups shared the goals of open, democratic dialogue be- tween the regime and society and the opening of the political space for citi- zen participation. The civic groups appealed for a public discussion of the problems facing the GDR after decades of bureaucratic state socialism, such as economic inefficiency, environmental degradation, and a lack of citizen autonomy. Most of the civic groups, at least initially, favored change within the GDR that would preserve the state’s socialist identity. The goal of the civic movements was clearly to change the situation through voice, not to abandon the GDR through exit, as many did via Hungary. The mobilization of protest, ofa “political culture of the streets,” unnerved the power holders and was responsible for bringing an end to communist party domination. In the heady days of the revolutionary autumn of 1989, the Biirger- bewegungen became outspoken and highly visible actors in the GDR. On television and to large audiences at demonstrations throughout the coun- try, the civic activists led a debate about the future course of the GDR. 66 East German Leadership in 1989-1990 These individuals were symbols of opposition, hope, and change. They were heroic and, as such, a rallying point for the civic phase of the revolu- tion. In many ways, they acted as a moral filter between the old order and the developing new one. Their political message focused on human rights and the basic freedoms of speech, assembly, and travel. Emancipation, activation, voice, and choice were important watchwords of the civic movement. Their common goal was to create a political environment where the citizen was an active participant, rather than a passive object of the ruling class. The tension between ideas and practice soon led to irreparable splits within the movement. The value of spontaneous action versus the efficacy of organized political arrangements became a central point of division within and between the civic groups. At issue was whether to remain a movement, above and outside of political structures, or to institutionalize and become organized parties. In other words, the dilemma was whether protest or institutional procedures provided the best way for bringing about change. Personal differences between the civic leaders also created divisiveness. Though somewhat similar in terms of political culture and values, the actors of the first hour often held widely different views on how to change the East German system. (See appendix C for a description of the various civic movements that emerged in the GDR in the late 1980s.) One of the most serious programmatic differences confronting the civic groups concerned whether unification should be an acceptable goal of political change. A few groups, like Democratic Awakening, adopted a position in favor of unification while others maintained their original positions regarding the sovereignty of the GDR and the need for reform of the GDR system within socialism. While civic activists debated whether to remain movements or become parties, the public had decided that the civic groups possessed neither the goals nor the leadership potential to fill the political power vacuum in the GDR. The Gap between Civic Activists and the People Despite their instrumental role in initiating political change in the GDR, the leaders of the civic movement represented only a minority—the protest culture discussed in chapter 2. The revolutionary leaders, therefore, could not remain an alternative elite for long. They were ideologues in a society looking for practical leadership. Their protest-oriented culture, or what Helmut Berking and Sighard Neckel call their protest lifestyle (Lebenstil), stood in sharp contrast to the majority of GDR society.® In their insistence 67 on open dialogue and action, the civic activists were bringing their protest culture out into the open. The activists exercised symbolic leadership. Their role as such was more instrumental than representative in ideologi- cal or programmatic terms. Looking back on 1989, one parliamentarian interviewed for this study recalled the “perspectivelessness of people at the time . . . [They] did not trust themselves to make decisions. They were inexperienced with making political choices, articulating their inter- ests ... and so they relied on strong individuals to speak for them” (SPD member, Potsdam, February 1994). The civic groups were not necessarily reflective of the values, preferences, or cultural orientations of average citizens. Though the Biirgerrechtler were admired by many East Germans for their ethical and moral convictions, they were viewed as too utopian and impractical in their visions for a better GDR and, therefore, were un- able to win the confidence of average East Germans.® Without this support, the protest-minded “outsiders” were unable to provide the political lead- ership necessary to become “insiders.” While hundreds of thousands of East Germans poured into the streets to protest the policies of the regime, most people watched and waited. The boldness of the civic groups was overwhelming to most East Germans, who, because of the history of repression of political dissidents in the GDR, were fearful of drawing attention to themselves and to their families. Numerous East German politicians surveyed by the author acknowledged that, while they had been sympathetic to the cause of the civic groups, they had not believed such groups would be capable of realizing their goals. Rather, institutionalized channels were the only hope of making ideas about reform a reality. Reflecting on her participation in the civic move- ment and her decision to leave it, one parliamentarian interviewed ex- plained: “I left the movement because it lacked structure and organization to move beyond rhetoric to concrete solutions. It simply lacked a problem- solving capacity” (SPD member, Potsdam, January 1994). By late November 1989, the leadership role of the civic activists was quickly eclipsed by the introduction of new and refounded political parties. What is more, the programmatic importance of the civic groups had been greatly diminished by the deterioration of the economic situation in the GDR and the rush to German unity. The response of the official culture to the challenge to democratize. When the wall fell, thousands of Germans left the GDR—left family and friends— in hopes of finding a better future in the democratic, capitalist FRG. The steady stream of exiting East Germans deeply affected the mood of GDR 68 East German Leadership in 1989-1990 society and contributed to an atmosphere of powerlessness on the part of the SED regime. While civic activists appealed for East Germans to remain in the GDR and pressure for reforms, the SED leadership scrambled to contain the forces of disintegration. The elites, however, could not react effectively to the rapid pace of events. In his study of mid-level and re- gional party cadres in the GDR, Daniel Friedheim found that the collapse of the regime in late 1989 was caused by an acknowledgment not among party elites at the top echelons of power but rather among lower-ranking officials.‘!° The periphery rather than the center of power confronted a “loss of will,” which explains why Honecker and his inner circle turned a blind eye to the possibility of reform from above and why regional party elites did almost everything in their power to avoid a “Beijing solution” to the mass demonstrations in October and November of 1989. However, it is important to remember that the SED was highly centralized, and the loss of will ultimately came from within the party leadership, which found itself “patronless” and facing an economic disaster it was unable to avert. Disarray at the top of the GDR-SED leadership raised a number of new issues. Should the SED adopt reforms? If so, how much reform was neces- sary to preserve its hold on power? More importantly, if the old guard was unable to maintain its power monopoly, who would replace them? On Oc- tober 18, 1989, the top state and party leadership was reshuffled, culmi- nating in the resignation of Erich Honecker from his post as general secre- tary. This move, however, was inadequate to quell the public cries for system reform. The replacement of Honecker with the unpopular Egon Krenz indicated the regime’s unwillingness to take democratization se- riously. The party under Krenz could only react defensively, clumsily opting for damage control rather than credible attempts to reform the party and the system. As Manfred Gortemaker explains in his study of this pe- riod, “Egon Krenz, with the appearance and disposition of a functionary and a reputation as a narrow-minded, obedient henchman of Honecker, was unable to overcome his image and present himself as a reformer. And the SED proved equally or even more incapable of gaining credibility after more than four decades of monopoly power and authoritarian dictator- ship.”"! The maneuvering of the SED regime was too little, too late. The National Democratic Revolution: The Second Wende By late 1989, signs of a coming system implosion were impossible for the regime to ignore. Neither the removal of Honecker nor the efforts of the new communist leadership to institute changes could contain the regime 69 crisis. In the first week of November 1989, hundreds of thousands of pro- testers had gathered on the Alexanderplatz in Berlin as well as in Leip- zig, Halle, Karl-Marx-Stadt, and Schwerin. On November 7, the entire Politburo stepped down and was replaced by supposed “Gorbachevites” within the party. Among them was Hans Modrow, a party leader in Dres- den, who became GDR prime minister on November 13, 1989. As prime minister, Modrow was relatively popular and soon eclipsed party secre- tary Krenz. Modrow, however, remained at the helm only until the first free parliamentary elections were held in March 1990. Meanwhile, in an attempt to stem the tide of East Germans fleeing to the West, the GDR regime moved to “legally” satisfy the public demand for freer travel. Rather than relieving the pressure on the regime, the opening of the Berlin Wall had the effect of increasing the momentum for demo- cratic reform within the framework of a unified Germany. Exhilarated by their new-found freedom, East Germans ventured over the border to see the “other” Germany. The breach in the wall cast a new light on the GDR— especially on the GDR economy—making the GDR look increasingly dim in comparison with the FRG. Thus, the opening of the wall unleashed forces that the regime could no longer control. Within a year, the GDR would cease to exist. The course of the East German democratization process changed dra- matically with the turn from a civic to a national revolution. Up to this point, the East German revolution (like other revolutions in Eastern Eu- rope) was an endogenous development. The roots of the national turn in November 1989 go deeper than the fall of the Berlin Wall to the particular origins of the GDR. As German historian Jiirgen Kocka explained, “The GDR was one of two German states: there was no congruity between state and nation. .. . This national turn would not have been possible without the existence of another German state, its principal support for unifica- tion, and the promises of its governing elite.” !” By the end of the year, it became increasingly clear to the regime and to the civic movements that the rapidly deteriorating economic situation in their country threatened to thwart efforts to enact political reforms. Alarming revelations about the economic crisis in the GDR surfaced.** With pressures for further reform mounting, Modrow agreed to meet with the opposition groups to discuss the problems facing the GDR and to try to find common solutions. The forum for the discussions would follow the Polish model of a roundtable, whereby representatives from the regime and from civil society would orient themselves on an “invisible center,” “which [is] not to be reached by force or competition, but only ina common 70 East German Leadership in 1989-1990 discourse and common resolution for a realizable future. The roundtable teaches us this circular perspective. It does so through its enduring pres- sure for consensus, through discussion freed from ideology, and through the continual obligation to demonstrate its capacity for decision.”* As a departure from the usual hierarchical arrangements, convening around a table was supposed to represent the equality of all participants. Partici- pants in the Central Roundtable in East Berlin included old parties, the communists (three representatives), Christian Democrats (three), Demo- cratic Farmers’ Party (three), National Democratic Party (three), and Lib- eral Democratic Party (three); new parties, the Social Democrats (two), Democratic Awakening (two), and Green Party (two); civic groups, New Forum (three), Democracy Now (two), Initiative for Peace and Human Rights (two), Independent Women’s Association (two), United Left (two), and Green League (two); and organizations, the Confederation of Free German Trade Unions (two), Farmers’ Mutual Aid Association (two), and Sorbian Round Table (one).!° The roundtable proclaimed as its goals the drafting of a new constitution, the preparation for free elections to the Volkskammer (the national parliament), and the formulation of a plan for an “association” between the two German states. The Modrow government, however, showed little readiness to cooper- ate with new political forces and did not actually meet with the roundtable until January 15, 1990. After initially showing little flexibility, the govern- ment announced the formation of a “government of responsibility,” effec- tive February 5, 1990, which provided for the participation of the round- table in the legislative process. Of the twenty-eight government ministers, eight were representative of opposition groups at the roundtable, though their status was that of Minister ohne Geschdftsbereich, minister with- out portfolio. Although for a time the counterelite and the communist elite effectively shared the political stage, the civic activists still were not prepared to lead. The civic groups viewed their mandate in the roundtable talks as the pro- tection of the rights of GDR citizens and they insisted on standing by their original principles. As such, they were instrumental in bringing about the Social Charter of February 1990, which outlined the right to work, the democratization and humanization of work, the right to a decent house, and equality between the sexes.'® Despite these efforts to influence the drafting of a new constitution for the GDR, the draft did not even move beyond the roundtable into committee for review and was soon lost in the stampede toward unification. Ironically, even though the communist elite and the counterelite were diametrically opposed in their visions for 71 the GDR and their political styles, both would share the same fate in the political transition. Both would be marginalized by the new and renewed political parties who prepared the East for unification with the West. By the winter of 1989-90, the direction of radical change had not only shifted to unification, it also had shuffled the actors involved in the pro- cess of change. Civic demobilization characterized this period. The failure of the civic activists to articulate an acceptable vision for the future and to mobilize the masses to support their goals allowed the impetus for change to shift from spontaneous action to established parties, from the grassroots to the centers of government and, most significantly, from the East to the West. The revolution from below quickly became an attempt at “managed change” from above and from the outside. Increasingly the process of sys- tem transition was directed and managed by professional politicians and administrators in Bonn. The Development of Political Parties and the Influence of the FRG Due to the worsening economic situation, the roundtable moved the date of the first free elections from the originally scheduled May 6 date to March 18, 1990. The date for the communal election was set for May 6, 1990. The months leading up to the Volkskammer and communal elec- tions were dominated by “formal” political actors—political parties rather than movements and forums—and witnessed the beginning of the direct influence of West German actors on the East German transition. The pro- cess of developing a plural party system had two dimensions: the recon- stitution of the old GDR parties—the SED and its bloc parties (the CDU, LDPD, NDPD, and DBD)—and the formation of new parties—the spp (later renamed SPD), Democratic Awakening, and the DSU. According to the GDR constitution, the Marxist-Leninist SED held a mo- nopoly on power, giving it a leading role in the society, state, and economy. From the very beginning of communization in the east, the SED had of- ficially recognized other parties (the bloc parties), though these parties remained under complete regime control. In 1989, the bloc parties to- gether had around 500,000 members.’” Aware that the crisis of legitimacy within the regime was irreparable, the bloc parties began to dissociate themselves with the SED and to nurture ties with their “sister” parties in the west. The Liberal Democrats (LDPD), headed by Manfred Gerlach, was the first bloc party to publicly distance itself from the SED. Gerlach openly criticized the SED and, after the removal of Honecker, threw his support to 72 East German Leadership in 1989-1990 Egon Krenz. A short time later, the LDPD withdrew from the so-called Na- tional Front, the “alliance of the SED and bloc parties.” On November 28, 1989, the new leader of the Christian Democrats (CDU), Lothar de Maiziere, announced the end of his party’s bloc party relationship to the SED. The other two bloc parties, the Democratic Peasants Party (DBD) and the National Democratic Party (NDPD), remained loyal to the SED longer and took much more hesitant steps toward democratic reform. As one of the newly founded parties, the Social Democrats (SDP) grew out of the civic groups and had close ties to the evangelical church. A number of the founders of the SDP were themselves theologians. On Au- gust 26, 1989, founding members Markus Meckel, Martin Gutzeit, Ibrahim Bohme, and Arndt Noack announced their intention to build a social dem- ocratic party. On October 7, 1989, on the fortieth anniversary of the found- ing of the GDR, the spp was founded by forty people at a secret meeting in the town of Schwante. The founding statute recognized the continuation of two German states as a consequence of past burdens, though changes in the status of the two German states was not ruled out if it occurred within the realm of a European peace order.'® The leadership of the West German Social Democrats (SPD) showed early interest in the programmatic goals of the East German spP and its inten- tions for future development. Contact with the spP was initiated by the Social Democrats in the West German Bundestag and by the (western) state party organization in North Rhein-Westphalia. This contact paved the way for west German involvement in the development of the political party system in the east. In contrast, few members of the new East German SDP initiated contacts with West Germany’s SPD. The East German Social Dem- ocrats favored grassroots party organization. With its roots in the civic movement, the SDP initially viewed itself as more of a “green alternative” party than the West German spD. The independence from West Germany was short-lived, however, and the differences between the social demo- crats in East and West Germany lessened as the unification train gained speed. The spp adopted the name Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutsch- lands (SPD) in January 1990 and united with the West German SPD on September 27, 1990. Another new party, the civic group Democratic Awakening, established itself as a party on October 2, 1989. One of the founders, Rainer Eppel- mann, explained the group’s drift away from the civic movement as a shift “away from spontaneity and toward action and established structures.”'° The third new party, German Social Union (Dsu), which was the East German version of the conservative Bavarian party the Christian Social 73 Union (CsU), was founded on January 20, 1989, in Leipzig. From its found- ing, the DSU received organizational and financial support from its Ba- varian sister party. The grassroots democracy of the revolutionary actors of the first hour was quickly overwhelmed by the formation of a political party system in the GDR. The renewal of the old political parties allowed them to move to the fore of the political arena, particularly since they were heavily subsi- dized and supported logistically by West German parties. The communist party responded to these political developments by at- tempting to reform itself. On December 1, 1989, the key sentence in Arti- cle 1 of the GDR constitution, which provided for the leading role of the SED, was struck from the document. Two days later, the old Marxist- Leninist cadre party faced its greatest challenge, when the party leadership under Egon Krenz was forced by the party membership to collectively step down. An Extraordinary Party Congress was called by the party member- ship on December 8 and again on December 16-17, which decided to re- found the SED as a “modern socialist party.” The party was renamed SED-PDS (adding “Partei des Demokratischen Sozialismus” to “Sozialistische Ein- heitspartei Deutschlands”) and was placed under the new reform-oriented party leadership of Gregor Gysi. Gysi, son of prominent GDR politician Klaus Gysi, was a flamboyant lawyer who had represented members of the opposition in the GDR and was now intent on reforming the party. The renewal of the communist party, however, did nothing to abate the leader- ship crisis. On January 11, 1990, twenty-four Volkskammer members, four- teen of whom were SED-PDS members, withdrew from the parliament. On January 29, twelve more people withdrew, including nine from the SED-PDS. Despite the SED-PDs claims that it had reformed, the tide of public opinion clearly had moved toward a total break with the past, apparently including a total break with socialism. The tension between older genera- tions of party elites and younger generations of change-oriented socialists was immediately a problem for the party. In an effort to make a clear distinction from the old SED and the new “democratic socialists,” the party shortened its name to PDS in February 1990.7° The Volkskammer Election of March 18, 1990 The roundtable’s decision of February 5, 1990, to move the national Volks- kammer elections up to March 18, 1990, left only twenty-three days for the new political actors to organize themselves and to familiarize the voters with campaign issues, party platforms, and candidates for office. Party 74 East German Leadership in 1989-1990 Table 3.1 Results of the March 18, 1990, Volkskammer Election Party group Percentage vote Alliance for Germany 48.0 Union of Free Democrats 5.3 Social Democratic Party 21.9 Left List—Party for Democratic Socialism 16.4 Alliance 90 2.9 Greens 2.0 Other 3.5 Source: Statistisches Amt der DDR, Statistisches Jahrbuch der DDR ’90 (Berlin: Rudolf Haufe Verlag, 1990), 449. platforms and party lists of candidates (in a proportional representation electoral system, the number of votes won by a party determines how many candidates are elected from that party’s list) had to be decided under severe time pressure by groups and election alliances unfamiliar with the campaign process. More than thirty parties and “quasi parties” participated in the Volks- kammer election. The formation of coalition lists, or electoral alliances, which were allowed under the new electoral law, foreshadowed the direc- tion of the development of the East German party system along the lines of the West German model. The Alliance for Germany was made up of the CDU, DSU, and the Democratic Awakening. The LDPD and German Forum Party formed the Union of Free Democrats. The Alliance 90 joined to- gether New Forum, Democracy Now, and the Initiative for Peace and Hu- man Rights. The Greens and the Independent Women Union formed a coalition calling themselves the Greens. A fifth coalition comprised the communist party and its allies in the Left List—pps. The Volkskammer election was decisive for the fate of the GDR. It was a dissolving election, in that it commissioned the liquidation of the GDR, and a founding election, in that it marked the beginning of the establish- ment of democratic institutions and procedures. Thereupon the govern- ment of the FRG would be the dominant actor in the transition to democ- racy and the rebuilding of political, economic, and social institutions. Voter turnout for this first free election was 93 percent (see table 3.1). The success of the “unification parties,” namely the Alliance for Germany, signaled public distrust of any further experiments in a “third way” be- tween socialism and capitalism. The civic movements were not the only ones to suffer the consequences of an impatient public. The connection with “socialism” probably cost the “social democratic” SDP votes as well. 75 The results of the first freely elected Volkskammer reflected the apparent wishes of the public for a firm embrace of capitalism through swift unifi- cation with the West. The “national” revolution was a success, and the “civic” revolution was over. The last Volkskammer served as an institutional, temporal, and psycho- logical bridge between the GDR and the FRG. The Volkskammer found itself in an occasionally awkward position “between preservation and modernization”! in that, while trying to reform the GDR political and economic system, much of its work consisted of “winding down” the old GDR institutions in order to pave the way for unification. The Second Circulation of East German Elites The membership of the Volkskammer was divided into those who wanted to preserve some of the achievements of the GDR and those who wanted to entirely appropriate the West German system. When parliamentarians in- terviewed for this study were asked which East German institutions might be worth preserving, the breakdown by political party was interesting: members of the former bloc parties (CDU, LDPD) demonstrated a clear prefer- ence for a West German orientation in this respect, while the PDS members strongly preferred preservation of the East German institutions. Among the SPD and Alliance 90 members, the preference was for a preservation of sociopolitical achievements of East German institutions. The members of the last Volkskammer were largely political newcom- ers. Of the four hundred parliamentarians elected on March 18, 1989, 388 (97 percent) were “new entries” and only twelve (3 percent) were continu- ing careers in the Volkskammer. The composition of this last Volkskammer reflects a process of “negative elite recruitment,” whereby former power holders are excluded from parliament either by candidate selection within the parties or through the election process.”? As a result of this negative recruitment, most of these new political actors were faced with simulta- neously learning the role of political decision-maker and making deci- sions about a staggering number of complicated issues. It is interesting to note that over 50 percent of the parliamentarians came from natural sci- ence backgrounds. This large number can be attributed to the relative isolation of such occupations from the ideological intrusions of the SED regime and, therefore, their higher degree of acceptability among party leaders who drew up candidate lists and voters who elected them. The further removed from the intrusiveness of the communist regime, the less politically tainted a candidate was deemed. Though reflecting a premium 76 East German Leadership in 1989-1990 on professional knowledge versus political experience, the scientists- turned-parliamentarians lacked the administrative and political experi- ence of their parliamentary counterparts in the west. We will return to this important factor in elite development in chapter 5. In his survey of Volkskammer members, Helmut Miiller-Enbergs found that Volkskammer parliamentarians elected in March 1990 believed the most important reason for seeking public office was “political untainted- ness.” Many previously inactive East Germans believed it was their duty to step up and take responsibility in this crucial period of system renewal. It is not surprising that “political untaintedness” ranked lowest among PDS parliamentarians, who as successors to the SED had the most direct link with the old guard. According to Miiller-Enbergs, the Volkskammer mem- bers ranked professional knowledge second, degree of public visibility third, political experience fourth, and parliamentary experience fifth.* The Volkskammer members were “children of the revolution” in the sense that, in their leadership qualifications and styles, they represented a clear break with the old system. Yet most of the Volkskammer members were not the same revolutionaries that had challenged the old guard just months before. While the civic groups saw something worth preserving from the GDR experience, as a whole, the Volkskammer tended to look exclusively to the West for answers. The few civic activists from the revo- lutionary autumn of 1989 who were elected to the Volkskammer warned their colleagues and the public about the speed of the auctioning off of the GDR. By 1990, however, they represented an argument that no one wanted to hear. Between March 18, 1990, and October 3, 1990, when the Volkskammer was dissolved,” the parliamentarians paved the way for a federal system in the east. The debates about societal renewal and “basis democracy” from the revolutionary period were largely cast aside in favor of catching up to, but not attempting to improve, the West German system. Efforts to reinvigorate political consciousness and citizen participation in the GDR were limited to mobilizing support for particular parties in the upcoming October 1990 regional Landtag elections and the December 1990 federal Bundestag elections. Political activity focused on the adaptation of the structures of the FRG party system and, eventually, the fusion of the East- ern and Western German political parties and organizations. The members of the last Volkskammer devoted themselves to making the difficult transi- tion to the new system as smooth as possible. Most of the plans for reform formulated by the lame-duck Volkskammer, including a new constitution, would be discarded with accession to the FRG. To some, including former 77 members of the Volkskammer interviewed in 1994, the members of the last East German parliament were merely instruments in the liquidation of the GDR. This period emphasized institutionalization and completed the de- mobilization of the civic movement. Internal and External Determinants of Elite Circulation in 1989-1990 The shift to fast unity with the West effectively marginalized the revolu- tionary actors of the first hour. For the civic activists, the revolution was incomplete because the national “turn” had robbed them of an oppor- tunity to realize their vision for democracy. The demonstrations of 1989 had challenged the legitimacy of the party and the state “to speak for a people whose concerns they did not know.””° The civic movements at- tempted to redefine the relationship between the state and society and, in effect, tried to realize participatory democracy in the GDR. This vision was marred by the introduction of Western parties and further obliterated by the complete adoption of the West German system of representative (indi- rect) democracy. Unification promised stability and prosperity, but it also meant that, in some senses, the people would continue to be bevormundet, that is, “excused” from speaking for themselves. In the new environment, the political agendas and avenues for political participation would be imported from the West. In principle, the marketplace of ideas would allow many voices and forms of participation to flourish, including those of the civic movement. In reality, by 1990 the hour of the civic movement had come and gone. Many GDR intellectuals mourned the liquidation of their state. Already in the last days of November 1989 an appeal “For your country, for our country” was made by leading reform communists and civic activists warning East Germans of colonization by the FRG. Such protests and ap- peals, however, were viewed as self-serving and unrealistic by the East German public, which no longer viewed themselves as “the” people. Now they identified themselves with the West Germans as “one” people. The gap between the intellectuals and the people in the east was irreparable.?7 According to another interpretation, the revolution of 1989 was restora- tive. It brought the return of parliamentarism, allowing former bourgeois parties to gain credibility and new conservative groups to develop. It also allowed the Germans caught on the other side of the Iron Curtain to “catch up” to the more economically successful—and capitalist—West. However, critics lamented that the “rectifying” revolutions in Eastern Europe were 78 East German Leadership in 1989-1990 characterized by a lack of new ideas—ideas that might have addressed the mistakes of both communism and capitalism.** A few prominent West Germans, such as Giinter Grass and Jiirgen Habermas, criticized the rush to unification as a missed opportunity for all-German soul-searching about the past and for creative discussion about Germany’s future as a modern capitalist society.*° West German leader and 1990 chancellor candidate for the spp, Oskar Lafontaine, warned of the costs of unification (and paid dearly for his unpopular message with a defeat to Helmut Kohl, the eternal optimist on unification who promised ‘blossoming landscapes’ in the East within a few years. The generation that produced the student movement in the FRG, the so-called ’68ers, were greatly disappointed by the “aborted revolution” and “national annexation” of the GDR by the West. At the other extreme were those who interpreted the revolution as counterrevo- lutionary. Marxist-Leninists explained the shift to unity as the “negation of the negation” whereby the failure of “real-existing” socialism caused a complete reversal of social development. In this sense, unity with the FRG meant a capitalist relapse. No matter how one interprets the revolutionary phase, the transition period in the spring of 1990 was characterized by the disintegration of one system in preparation for the transplant of an- other. Unification meant the “leveling” of the East German system to ac- commodate the institutions of a market economy and West German party democracy. The logic of swift unification suggested that the import of Western par- liamentary democracy could fill the political institution vacuum left by the implosion of the GDR system and state. Yet the GDR also crumbled psychologically. Into this vacuum of shattered political culture and iden- tity, would the import of West German political ideas and symbols be possible, or positive? The problem with imported blueprints for political change is that they do not readily allow for modifications according to patterns of indigenous political orientations: the architect remains the authority while the builders are left to fulfill the plans. The challenges of adapting to a prefabricated model of democracy were underestimated by the East German voters and by the political actors who created and imple- mented the strategy for unification. Not only did the consumerist lure of the Kaufhalle—the shopping malls that symbolize Western prosperity— hasten the end of the GDR. The political party system displaced East Ger- man civil society before most people had a taste of civic participation. The result was that many East Germans “reacted in the only way they have known: a cautious retreat into the private sphere.”*° In the final analysis, the East German exit from communism was not a 79 negotiated transition whereby the old political elite was instrumental in reforming the political system. Moreover, the transition in the GDR was not a standard case of reform by below. In contrast to the mode of transi- tion in Czechoslovakia, for example, reform from below was superseded by the interference of elites from the Federal Republic.3! Was this outside interference necessary? Was there any group in the GDR who could have performed the function of an alternative elite? This study suggests that the nature of the political regime in the GDR and the cultural orientations that developed as a result were not conducive to the emergence of an opposi- tional elite. Although a protest culture existed in the GDR, it had few links to the dominant culture and produced no well-known leader or leaders with whom the masses could identify. The prospect of western assistance in late 1989 offered East Germans an alternative to political and economic uncertainty. The electoral support that East German voters gave to the unification-supporting parties in March 1990 opened the door for par- ticipation of the Federal Republic in the democratization process. Before moving on to a discussion of directed elite building, it is useful to review the fate of the three cultural “milieus” in 1989. In the new environ- ment of political pluralism, and as Eastern Germans began to look for new models of political and economic activity, the official, dominant, and pro- test milieus would be elite “reservoirs.” Their potential to serve as elite reserves in the transition, however, was not equal. The balance shifted decisively away from the official and protest cultures and toward the dom- inant culture. The Fate of the Official Culture Other than the communist party and bloc parties, there were no groups in the GDR with political organizational experience. During the revolution- ary upheaval, there was considerable confusion among the SED elite. Turn- over in the state and party leadership demonstrated the clumsy search for direction at the top. The party’s efforts to regroup were characterized by crisis management more than a willingness to develop a reform course in the GDR. The communist party, despite its new name and new leadership, could not distance itself from the past in the same way. Those who advo- cated dissolving the SED altogether and forming a brand new socialist party lost to those who saw the advantages of retaining the party organization and funds. Though the continuity with the past has posed a number of problems for the PDs in the new political system, including a host of legal problems arising from GDR times, the party retained enough of its former so East German Leadership in 1989-1990 membership (in 1990, 150,000 out of two million) to make it the single largest party in the east. The bloc parties, which for years had been under the tutelage of the SED, were much more successful than the SED at reinventing themselves. Both the CDU and LDPD abandoned the sinking ship of the sED-led “National Front” and, with the help of instant legitimacy afforded them by associa- tion with the parties of Chancellor Kohl and Foreign Minister Genscher respectively, they were able to sneak away from their forty-year coopera- tion with the SED regime. In the transition period, many bloc party mem- bers were able to utilize skills honed in the old political system without paying the price for their association with the old regime. Their new asso- ciation with the western parties of the FRG gave them a measure of legit- imacy certainly not afforded the successors of the SED. Within the official culture, there were many opportunists, Wendehals, who performed ideological backflips just to maintain a position in politi- cal and administrative office. In the state parliaments in the east after 1990, many of these people omitted their past party affiliation from their biographies, characterized the GDR as a dictatorship, and criticized sup- porters of the PDs as Jammerossis (whining easterners). Others from the official milieu, still firmly committed to socialist ideals, tried to under- stand what went wrong and remained committed to working toward dem- ocratic socialism within the new system. The Dominant “Everyday” Culture This became an important reservoir for postcommunist elite recruitment. Once the protest-minded civic groups had initiated the challenge to the old regime, others who had been previously politically inactive felt secure enough to become “activated.” Many, including one Brandenburg parlia- mentarian among those interviewed for this study, felt they could no longer remain silent and passive: My own lack of political engagement was tied to the nature of the GDR regime. In a dictatorship, there is no room for different ideas. Political engagement was equivalent to supporting the system. The alternative was to be nonpolitical, nonengaged. This often gave me a bad con- science ... and caused inner conflict. The words of JFK about “civil courage” often came to mind during those times when I was not sure about my own position, not able to freely express my views which were in contrast to the regime’s. This caused me to reflect on the duty mentality of the Germans . . . keeping quiet because it was the only 81 way to get by, to get on with one’s life. This bothered me. When Isawa chance to break out of the silence, I became actively involved in the changes. (SPD member, Potsdam, May 1994) While a number of previously apolitical persons saw the chance to “do something,” few East Germans actually joined the civic groups. Many of the parliamentarians interviewed said they had supported the values and ideas of the civic groups in 1989, but that they had doubted their ability to go beyond rhetoric to organize and implement reforms. For most, the civic movements possessed neither the practicality nor the competence to pro- vide effective leadership in the transition toward a new system. For some of the people who had for years been deep in inner exile, “doing something” meant contributing to the founding of new parties in their communities. Those who acted locally often did so at the encourage- ment of friends and neighbors. Many of the state parliamentarians in the east after October 1990, especially those of the SPD and Alliance 90, were recruited to politics during the earlier grassroots stage of the transition. People like the Brandenburg politician quoted above were both locally known and sufficiently politically untainted. Moreover, many felt an obli- gation to help in the transition process; after years of “getting by” by main- taining a low profile, many “stinking normal East Germans,” as one inter- viewee put it, emerged from the private sphere and assumed the mantle of political responsibility. These East Germans entered a new, high-stakes game of campaigning, political bargaining, and decision-making. Many of the new political elites reported that they initially felt uncomfortable or awkward in their new roles. These new recruits confronted the unfamiliar challenges of making choices in an environment of uncertainty and working in an atmosphere of intense competition and partisanship. Although most people were, and remain, supportive of the system changes, it is not surprising that the disintegration of the old system and the swift introduction of a new one produced disorientation, disaffection, and disillusionment for many east- ern Germans—including some of the new elites. Of course, individual elites experienced the transition and the adjustment to new roles and procedures with varying levels of ease or difficulty. As we shall see in later chapters, those elites recruited from the “niche society” of the GDR—those previously politically inactive East Germans—often experienced the most difficulty adjusting to their new elite status, to the competitive/ partisan nature of the new system, and to the myriad demands put on parliamen- tarians arising from their parliamentary work, their parties, the media, and their constituencies. 82 East German Leadership in 1989-1990 The Fate of the Alternative Culture Up to the national revolution, the civic activists were key players. How- ever, the personal disagreements and infighting ultimately cost the civic groups political capital they might have gained as a united front.*? Instead, they appeared more concerned with preserving their independence and programmatic ideals than with seizing the opportunity to lead the GDR to anew system. Furthermore, the civic activists were rejected by the people in large part because they insisted on morality over politics. Essentially, they represented the “bad conscience” of the silent majority in the GDR. In their incessant quest for political justice, they exposed the shame and anxiety of the conformist dominant culture, reminding people of their guilt and complicity in perpetuating the old order for so long. When the tide turned to swift unification, many either retreated to the private sphere out of frustration with the process or they turned to commu- nity activism. Most of the purists, like the artist and New Forum founder Barbel Bohley, retreated from the political scene in 1990. Other pragma- tists remained active, assuming the role of opposition once again, this time working for reform from within institutional channels. Some of the civil rights activists found a home in Alliance 90.** Though presenting a united front in the elections of 1990, the individual groups and members of Alli- ance 90 were fiercely independent and have maintained distinct identities and positions. A few prominent activists joined the CDU (Rainer Eppel- mann and Arnold Vaatz, for example) as well as the spD (Markus Meckel, Martin Gutzeit and Richard Schréder). As a mobilizing force, however, the civic movement of 1989 was displaced by political parties who offered the East German electorate an organizational/ programmatic vision, as well as an air of confidence, that was pragmatic enough to be reassuring in a time of deep uncertainty. As one civic activist remarked, “all of us, including myself, vastly underestimated one thing: the influence of Western tele- vision on the political consciousness and the political conduct of East German citizens. . . . With the opening of the wall, with the arrival of top politicians from West Germany, it was all over. Joe Schmoe from No- wheresville never had a chance against Helmut Kohl, Willy Brandt, or Oskar Lafontaine.”*4 The emergence of West German actors on the political scene was crucial to the speed, direction, and comprehensiveness of political change in East Germany. Beginning with West German chancellor Helmut Kohl’s Ten- Point Plan in late November 1989, initiatives from Bonn guided political developments in the GDR. The influence of the West German party system, 83 its procedures, financial support, and personnel began informally in late 1989 but peaked in the period leading up to the Volkskammer election of March 18, 1990. This period saw the shift from civic groups to political parties as influential political actors. The transfer of the West German party system, the first of many institutional and conceptual transfusions from the West, gave the West German parties an opportunity to expand their own organization and influence. To put it another way, the inflow from the FRG filled the conceptual and practical gaps in East Germany. To the difficult questions of political transformation—how? what next? and when?—the western parties provided ready answers: institutional trans- fer and parliamentary elections—and quickly. This mode of democrati- zation, via a swift and comprehensive system transplant, offered an alter- native to the East German public which, understandably, was attracted to the West German offer of concrete solutions. Western parties, especially the cbu, looked like winners. The tried and proven organizations of the FRG seemed to offer the surest route to economic security and political stability. The speed and comprehensiveness of the transfer of the West German party system clearly emphasized institutional expediency over cultural integration. FRG-style parliamentary democracy came to the GDR without amendment. In return for the rewards and positive attributes of the West German party system, the accomplishments of the East German revolu- tion, namely democracy oriented to grassroots participation and discus- sions about institutional reform, were sacrificed. Rather than system re- form, the system simply disappeared. The disappointment of the civic activists of 1989 can be summed up this way: “We wanted justice [Recht] and we got the state of law [Rechtsstaat].” The next phase of postcommu- nist elite building occurred within the new context of FRG democracy and according to the rules and norms of the Rechtsstaat. -t 4 The Transition to Democracy in East Germany: Transplant and Elite Replacement In contrast to the revolutionary period, which was characterized by the pluralization of political actors, the transition phase, which lasted from approximately March to October 1990, contracted the political space by introducing new criteria to restrict elite selection. The unique mode of East Germany’s transition—unification through the transplant of the west- ern political and administrative framework in the east—had a significant impact on the recruitment, composition, and political resocialization of postcommunist political elites. To gain a more complete understanding of the environment in which the state parliamentarians were recruited in 1990, we briefly examine elite-building trends in another sector—the political administrative institutions—and at other levels of elected gov- ernment—the local and national levels. For the postcommunist admin- istrative elite, the transplant of personnel from the West was a promi- nent feature in the transition phase, and to some extent, well after the transition was complete. Moreover, the dynamics of parliamentary elite building varied in significant ways, depending on the level of governance: the “lower” (more decentralized) the level of elected government, the less significant the role played by western officials and the more reli- ance on indigenous know-how and preferences. The state parliamen- tarians, although overwhelmingly indigenous to the east, relied heavily on western technical assistance and know-how in the transition pe- riod. In this chapter, we consider the impact of transition through trans- plant on the recruitment and composition of the postcommunist state parliamentarians. sé Transition to Democracy From GDR to FRG Planning for the merger of the two states began in early 1990 and was dominated by West Germany from the start. While Hans Modrow was still head of the GDR government, he and West German chancellor Kohl met in February 1990 in Berlin to discuss cooperation between the FRG and GDR. Modrow and his delegation, however, were not treated as equal partners. According to one analyst, “Kohl had never contacted Modrow about his plans for unity. .. . The chancellor himself felt it necessary to lay the political groundwork for March 18 [the Volkskammer election] under the banner of German unity and he did not want to assist the Modrow regime in any form.” From the start, Modrow and the East German delegation were treated with “condescension, arrogance, and disregard.”! Chancellor Kohl clearly assumed West German dominance. The East German leader- ship could not take a proactive position, just a reactive one. The debate over the appropriate course to unification was relatively short. With the looming economic crisis in East Germany, vague notions of a loose confederation between the two German states were quickly dis- missed by West German elites. Most of the departments of the West Ger- man federal government favored direct accession according to Article 23 of the West German Basic Law (constitution) because it offered a fast and easy route that would preserve the “tested” system of the FRG. Social Democrats in East and West Germany, however, favored the other ap- proach to unification provided by the Basic Law, Article 146, because it offered a chance to formulate a new constitution that could draw from the ideas and demands from both parts of Germany. However, the victory of the Alliance for Germany, the pro-unification electoral alliance led by the CDU, in the March 1990 Volkskammer election effectively tilted the bal- ance to Article 23, guaranteeing institutional conservatism in the united Germany. The March 1990 victory of Alliance for Germany also allowed the Kohl government to assume an even more dominant role in political and eco- nomic change in the GDR. The new East German prime minister, the soft- spoken political neophyte Lothar de Maiziere, was no match for Helmut Kohl, the embodiment of the professional West German politician. The de Maiziere government, like the Modrow government before it, was unable to exert its influence on the unification negotiations. These negotiations were dominated by the West Germans, led by Kohl, his Office of the Chan- cellor, and the interior minister, Wolfgang Schauble. As a result, the East German elites were not so much active managers of democratization as reactive caretakers of a dying state. 87 The time pressures to finish the Unification Treaty are well known, including international considerations such as the uncertain “window of opportunity” opened by the reforms in the Soviet Union. The unification treaties negotiated in the spring and summer of 1990 provided for the swift demise of the GDR. The first treaty, the Treaty on the Establishment of a Monetary, Economic, and Social Union between the Federal Republic of Germany and the German Democratic Republic, effective July 1, 1990, was the cornerstone of state unification. It provided for the monetary union of the two Germanies via the swift introduction of the West German currency in the GDR. This move was opposed by many West German experts, in- cluding Bundesbank president, Karl Otto Pohl. However, at a campaign rally in Cottbus (GDR) only five days before the Volkskammer election, Kohl took the opportunity to pledge a conversion rate of 1:1 for the savings accounts of small savers in the East. In this highly politicized transition, Chancellor Kohl clearly played an active/offensive role and the East Ber- lin government was in a more reactive/ defensive position. With the mone- tary and economic union, the West German economic order was expanded eastward, giving Bonn responsibility for the GDR economy, monetary stability, unemployment, pensions, welfare, and infrastructure. The GDR was reduced to a “rump” state and the East Berlin leaders became “lame ducks.” Few of the East Germans’ ideas or even objections would be taken seriously in the German-German negotiations. The external aspects of German unification were settled in negotiations between the United States, the Soviet Union, Great Britain, and France, plus the two German states.? The “Two-Plus-Four” negotiations and treaty signed on September 13, 1990, terminated the rights and responsibilities of the Four Powers in Berlin and Germany, removing an important barrier to full German sovereignty and unification. Meanwhile, on July 4, 1990, the negotiations for the Unification Treaty began in Berlin. Prime Minister de Maiziere wanted to hold off on acces- sion to the FRG until the first all-German elections, scheduled for Decem- ber 2, 1990. This would have allowed the East German people to first elect representatives to the Bundestag before acceding to the FRG. Unification, however, went into effect on October 3, 1990. Instead of full representation in Bonn in the period between accession and new elections, a delegation from the last GDR Volkskammer was invited to sit in the Bundestag. De Maiziere’s wish was not granted. Nor were other concerns he voiced about dimensions of unification, many of them symbolic, such as crafting a new national anthem or flag for the new Germany.° The unification phase was the “hour of the executive,” with decision- making concentrated in the Chancellor’s Office and the administrative ss ‘Transition to Democracy elite in Bonn.? Under normal circumstances, decision-making in the Fed- eral Republic is fairly decentralized and is characterized by a system of complex consultation and negotiation. However, in a situation character- ized by problem-solving under tremendous time pressure and the search for strategic measures to guide unification, a highly centralized structure of political decision-making evolved.°® In contrast to this Bonn style of crisis management, the new leader- ship in East Berlin demonstrated an incoherent style of political reaction. The East German leadership was unprepared for the tasks of transforming the political and economic systems. This is not surprising, considering the “atypical” occupational backgrounds from which many in the new leader- ship were recruited. Among the transition elites, in particular members of the spp, Alliance 90, and other groups arising from the civic movement, there were an unusual number of Protestant theologians, university pro- fessors, and natural scientists. Among the CDU and Alliance of Free Demo- crats (which was absorbed by the western Freie Demokratische Partei [Free Democrats, FDP] in August 1990) members, many of whom had been members of the East German bloc parties, there were numerous engineers and members of what might be called the technical-scientific intelligen- tsia. These East Germans brought specific insights and abilities to the tran- sition process; however, political-administrative expertise was not among them. The lack of political experience made it even more difficult for the East German transition elites to bring their influence to bear on a West- dominated unification process. In the months before unification, the East German elite was further weakened by the troubled working relationship between the new political actors and their former foes, the members of the old administrative appara- tus. Lingering animosities and a clash of decision-making styles caused friction between the old and new guard in East Berlin. The old elite, accus- tomed to operating in the highly centralized GDR administration, lacked experience in the type of improvisation required by the crisis management situation. On the other hand, the civic activists were ideologues who fa- vored “spontaneous” action and, as such, were not prepared for the man- agerial tasks of the transition. These “internal” difficulties in East Berlin were compounded by significant communication problems with the ad- ministrative elite in Bonn. The East German delegation to the treaty nego- tiations often felt they were not taken seriously by their FRG counterparts and, in some cases, were not consulted on important decisions.® In the face of West German domination in the transition process, the East German leadership appeared weak and ineffective. Having been rendered stewards of a sinking ship, the special East German situation surely had an impact on the self-confidence of the postcommunist leadership. The rise and fall of the political career of Lothar de Maiziere symbolizes the personal and professional difficulty many new eastern leaders experi- enced in the transition from the old system to the new one. His case also previewed some of the adjustment problems political neophytes would have in their new roles. Unlike many of his more savvy bloc party col- leagues, de Maiziere was the figure of the political amateur whose soft voice of moderation was drowned out by the loud and furious pitch of Bonn politics. The East Berlin lawyer entered politics the day after the Berlin Wall fell, when he somewhat reluctantly agreed to become the new chairman of the CDU-East. At first, he stood fast to his belief in a renewed socialism for the GDR. Soon, however, members of the West German “sis- ter” party urged him to give up the socialist orientation.” De Maiziere, like other East German elites who tried to bridge the old and new systems, found that his political beliefs, deeply influenced by life in the GDR, often conflicted with the immediate task of adopting to the imported system. This conflict between old beliefs and new political realities (the latter including pressures for conformity to West German norms) was too great for some East Germans to endure. Those who did not or could not adapt to the new political arrangements were eventually pushed out of power. This became the fate of Prime Minister de Maiziere who, in December 1990, following the first all-German elections, was passed over by Kohl fora post in the new government. Amid rumors that he had cooperated with the Stasi, de Maiziere lost the support of Chancellor Kohl and the CDU. As a result, de Maiziere resigned from his posts in the federal and Brandenburg CDU organizations and gave up his membership in the Bundestag. He with- drew from politics entirely, eventually resuming his career in law in Ber- lin. De Maiziere never stood up to the charges of collaboration, perhaps because he was too proud to honor the accusations with a reply.® Though the charges were never proven, de Maiziere was abandoned by Bonn and his support in the east dwindled. The first democratically chosen East German leader was one of the first, but certainly not the last, postcommu- nist elites to leave politics under a cloud of suspicion, feeling dejected and betrayed. In the highly politicized atmosphere of 1990, a premium was placed on recruiting individuals whose pasts were not liabilities and whose potential to conform to the new institutions was not in doubt. Elite Recruitment and FRG Resocialization Formal unification occurred on October 3, 1990; however, the transplant of the FRG system in the East was already well under way. Elite building in 90 ‘Transition to Democracy the five new Ldnder in the transition phase was shaped by the simulta- neous processes of institutionalization and decommunization. Institu- tionalization entails the design and creation of structures for democratic governance, as well as the formulation of the formal rules to guide them. In this case, institutionalization became a matter of replicating structures and procedures for democratic governance in eastern Germany according to a western German blueprint. A corollary of this system transplant was the export of west German personnel to the east. Experienced western party managers and bureaucrats played a significant role in the implemen- tation of the administrative and political structures and routines of the FRG system in the new Ldnder. Moreover, by their own example and through their advisory role, the western personnel contributed to the new eastern parliamentarians’ institutional learning. Decommunization is a complementary process to institutionalization. Presumably, by clearing out the old elite, the old patterns of behavior and networks of relationships that might impede the institutionalization of FRG democracy would also be swept away. This is the logic behind vet- ting, or lustration, processes in postauthoritarian regimes. In addition to being a preventative measure, decommunization can also be corrective. It demonstrates that former elites will not be rewarded by allowing them to stay on under a new regime. In some cases, corrective justice also entails holding former elites responsible for past abuses of power and, perhaps, compensating victims of regime repression. At the very least, decommu- nization shows the public that a clear break has been made with the past, that citizens can trust the new order because the composition of the elite has changed. Decommunization was initially driven by the civic activists. Citizens’ committees that formed in the GDR in the fall of 1989 assumed respon- sibility for safeguarding the files of the Stasi; that is, making sure Stasi officials were unable to confiscate incriminating materials—as they had done with haste until stopped by angry citizens. Although the Biirger- rechtler, the civic activists, continued to play a self-appointed role in de- communization, with unification the process was guided by the western- dominated administrative and legal institutions. Transitional justice in the former GDR has been carried out through purges of the old elite, by bringing ex-officials and their triggermen to trial, and by appointing a truth commission to research and report on the crimes committed by the old regime.° The first method, the purge, has had the most direct impact on elite building. This process bars from office certain persons or groups considered to be compromised by their positions or 91 affiliations in the old system. Critics of transitional justice in eastern Ger- many have argued that the FRG has been more zealous about holding former GDR elites accountable than it was about former Nazi officials after World War II. There are many complex dimensions of the postwar and postcommunist comparison; however, for the purposes of this study, one dimension deserves brief exploration: the extent to which former person- nel were dispensable in the transition phase. In postwar Germany, former regime officials were often the only persons with training and experience in management and administration. The need for their skills may have outweighed the desire to “cleanse” the system—if such a desire existed at all. The need for administrative know-how in the postcommunist transi- tion partially explains the lack of enthusiasm for decommunization in most Eastern European countries after 1989. In Hungary and Poland, there was another important reason why there was less pressure to carry out transitional justice: the communist elites, especially in Hungary, had been relatively sympathetic to reforming the system and eventually negotiated the transition with opposition groups. As a result, former officials were not viewed with the same suspicion as they were in East Germany, where dogmatic elites held on to the bitter end. Among many segments of the East German population, particularly among the civic movements, there initially was a strong desire to cleanse political institutions of GDR offi- cials. Most important, there was less need for the know-how and experi- ence of former officials. In postcommunist East Germany, the old elites were dispensable. The new parliaments were recruited from a previously untapped reservoir of potential leaders: the bloc parties and the hitherto politically inactive segments of East Germany society. As central players in parliamentary democracies, political parties are vehicles for elite re- cruitment and, as such, play a crucial role in political “self”-cleansing. In the executive/administrative institutions in the new Ldnder, the guide- lines for recruiting personnel to the civil service were transplanted from the West. In the administrative institutions, moreover, the old personnel were even more dispensable; an ersatz elite was available—the West Ger- man personnel. The Transplant of Political-Administrative Structures In this section we briefly explore the development of executive institu- tions and administrative personnel. This process merits our attention since it shaped the environment in which the new state parliamentarians were recruited and retrained, or resocialized. The creation of an FRG-style 92 Transition to Democracy administrative environment became a prerequisite for transplanting the political, economic, and social order of the FRG.’° In addition to assistance from the FRG government in Bonn, the west German states provided finan- cial help, expertise, and personnel at the communal and state levels in the east. Paten- und Partnerschaften arrangements, or cooperation agree- ments, were forged between west and east German states (for example, between Nordrhein-Westfalen and Brandenburg, Schleswig-Holstein and Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Rheinland-Pfalz and Thiiringen, Niedersach- sen and Sachsen-Anhalt, and Baden-Wiirttemberg and Sachsen). The transfer of western personnel became part of the structural harmo- nization process, reflecting a premium on management by the architects of the revolution from above rather than crafting by the initiators of the revo- lution from below. The Abwicklung, or winding down, of the old political- administrative institutions was accompanied by a thorough purge of the East German elite in those institutions. The Treaty on Monetary, Economic and Social Union paved the way for the introduction of West German arrangements for a civil service and significantly reduced the number of state functionaries in the east.'! The incredible speed of institution build- ing in the east was possible in part by the replacement of indigenous administrative personnel with West German professionals. The number of western personnel transferred to the east is difficult to pinpoint, but the number is generally believed to be somewhere around 20,000 by 1992.'” The participation of West German elites was most visible in the higher echelons of the executive branches in the new Ldnder. In Brandenburg, for example, the minister of the chancellory has since 1990 been a seasoned administrator from the western state of Nordrhein-Westfalen, and all but one of his deputies came from the west. Westerners comprised over 27 percent of the more than 1,400 public servants in the ministerial bureau- cracy of Brandenburg after 1990, but of the higher civil servants they com- prised 52 percent.'* Western personnel went east for various reasons. Some wanted an ad- venture in the “wild East,” while others had ancestral roots there and wanted to rediscover a lost past. For some, monetary rewards certainly played a role. Western elites received Buschgeld, or bush money to go east, and some also received free weekly flights home. While many of the im- ported personnel were fully committed to furthering German unity and planned to make the east their home, the behavior of other western im- ports created resentment among some eastern Germans who perceived they were being colonized by second-rate bureaucrats and carpet-baggers. Arguably, the introduction of an ersatz elite had the effect of lessening the motivation to find indigenous solutions to the leadership gap. This 93 development also introduced a hierarchy in the new administrative in- stitutions, which instantly put easterners in a subordinate position. Essen- tially, easterners carried a double burden. They were in a “historical” posi- tion of weakness vis-a-vis western personnel, because it was the East German system that had failed and imploded. In addition, the eastern burden was “experiential,” since few of the new elites had held leadership positions in the past, and none of them had firsthand experience with the rules and procedures of FRG democracy. Because the East German actors were political newcomers, they were often treated as “nonprofessionals” by their seasoned western counterparts. Indeed, the eastern lack of experi- ence and practical knowledge about negotiation and decision-making was obvious in comparison with the highly professional and hierarchical style of the western German personnel. This practical-political imbalance con- tributed to a situation where transition decisions were made and imple- mented by “professionals” from the west. According to one analyst of unification decision-making, “East Berlin found itself in such a deep ad- ministrative and financial crisis, and its representatives were so unac- customed to the negotiation routine of the West German representatives, that they had to accept many positions that seemed to clearly harm the interests of the Eastern side. In this the overpowering and tutelage of the GDR by West German politics was newly manifested.” * The mandate of the imported managers was not only to fill the admin- istrative personnel vacuum. Clearly, western elites also went east with the purpose of retraining indigenous personnel. Ausbildung (supplemental training) and Fortbildung (basic training) programs were established to reeducate administrative personnel whose political knowledge and prac- tical experience were acquired during decades of democratic central- ism. These reeducation programs included seminars for eastern elites, exchanges with western elites, and on-the-job instruction.’° Rather than an evolutionary process whereby easterners could grow into the new sys- tem or gradually synthesize the new institutional arrangements with their own lifestyles and expectations, the West German political and economic system was adopted wholesale practically overnight. In the process, only eastern Germans were obliged to undergo a transition that would lead to changes in their beliefs, behaviors, and allegiances. The existence of a blueprint for administrative institutions, complete with the transfer of West German programs and routines, left little or no room for substantive contributions from the past experiences of eastern Germany. Hence, structural conservatism rather than innovation was the rule in filling the political and administrative vacuum. The transfer of the civil service code to the east and the adoption of West German budgetary 94 ‘Transition to Democracy law, for example, have resulted in the transfer of the same institutional constraints that impede structural experimentation in the west. As one observer explains, “It remains to be seen whether these transplantations will adapt to the surrounding tissues or be rejected or modified,” since western personnel and organizational structures “have to be put into oper- ation in a different political and socio-economic environment.”?® This is the context in which new legislative institutions were created and new legislators were recruited and trained. The dynamics of the ad- ministrative elite-building process affected the development of the new parliaments in several ways. Many of the administrative personnel in the new Landtage, as well as a large segment of the personnel in the Frak- tionen—the parliamentary groups within which the parties organize in the Landtage—came from the West. These personnel were essential to the day- to-day functioning of the parliaments. They provided assistance to the legislators in numerous important ways; they gave guidance to the mem- bers of the Landtag, they were the liaison between the Landtag members and interest groups, the press, or other individuals or groups that contact the members, and they carried out much of their parliamentary office work. As we shall see in the next chapter, the interaction with western personnel has been a significant part of the resocialization process and has contributed in important ways to the adjustment of the new parliamen- tarians in the east. The New State Parliamentarians: Recruitment and Selection Criteria In July 1990, the democratically elected East German Volkskammer estab- lished five new states from the fifteen Bezirke (districts) that had been created by the SED in 1952. The new states of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Brandenburg, Sachsen-Anhalt, Thiiringen, and Sachsen legally came into being on October 3, 1990, the “Day of German Unity.” The creation of a new level of government presented a number of logistical problems, rang- ing from locating appropriate buildings to house the members of parlia- ment and their staff and to hold committee meetings and plenary sessions. Most facilities were not readily equipped, lacking even adequate supplies of desks and telephones, let alone fax machines, computers, and pho- tocopy machines. The administrative staffs of the new state legislatures also had to draw heavily on imported western personnel. Within the Frak- tionen, the parliamentary party groups, most of the advisors and press sec- retaries were western, many of them newly minted university graduates. In the run-up to the October 1990 state parliamentary elections, western party campaign managers and advisors filled the expertise vacuum. This 95 election date left very little time to recruit candidates and organize cam- paigns. The refounded bloc parties were concerned about recruiting “un- tainted” persons for party lists and directly elected seats. For the new parties, which lacked the organizational and membership advantages of bloc parties, the challenges of finding persons to fill party lists was much more difficult. Many parliamentarians interviewed for the study reported that in 1990, they were approached by spp leaders desperate for candi- dates. In numerous cases, persons who had no great desire to run for office did so out of a sense of duty or at the urging of family and friends, con- cerned that if no one stepped forward to fill the vacancies, the former elites would have an easier time winning seats in the new parliaments. Many new recruits report that they had little notion of what they were getting into; they were unaware of the time commitment and multiple demands on a state parliamentarian. The recruitment of state parliamentarians was significantly shaped by the transplant of the FRG political system. Recall that in the GDR, posi- tions of power were exclusively for members of the nomenklatura and were assumed only with the consent of the party. The revolution of 1989 opened up the political recruitment process by replacing the nomen- klatura system with a plural party system and democratic elections. In some respects, unification once again contracted the space for political recruitment by bringing the elite recruitment process in line with that in the west, thereby completing the demobilization of political activity from below. Though a degree of “political cleansing,” or decommunization, had already occurred in the east before unification, the subsequent transplant of the West German institutional framework brought further negative re- cruitment, according to Western criteria for competence and ideological acceptability. To a great extent, the political parties were on the frontlines of political cleansing. Despite their efforts at self-cleansing, every party had members who came under suspicion of past Stasi involvement. The members of the CDU and PDS came under fire more often than members of other parties. That the pps had problems is not surprising, considering they were the successor party to the SED and retained many of its function- aries. The CDU, however, presents an interesting problem: being a former bloc party, it was associated with the old regime. Despite that, however, many CDU members reject responsibility for the old system as well as the notion that the party must cleanse itself of old members. In the eyes of some CDU members in the east, self-cleansing would be an admission of complicity.’” Also, having fused with their western sister party, one could argue, the CDU gained instant legitimacy. The October state elections brought the next comprehensive circulation 96 Transition to Democracy Table 4.1 Circulation of East German Legislators, 1990 Parliamentary Number Number a anion DetSF of of Entries Continued Parliament Election Seats Legislators n % n % Volkskammer March 1990 400 400 388 97 12 3 Landtage Oct. 1990 509 548* 457 84 86 16 Bundestag Dec. 1990 139 148* 76 51 72 49 Source: Hans-Ulrich Derlien, “Elitenzirkulation zwischen Implosion und Integration: Abgang, Rekrutierung und Zusammensetzung ostdeutscher Funktioneliten, 1989-1994,” in Helmut Wollmann et al., eds., Transformation der politisch-administrativen Strukturen in Ostdeutsch- Jand (Opladen: Leske und Budrich, 1997), 368. *Larger number of legislators entering parliament than seats is due to turnover. of elites in the east. Few of the transition elites from the Modrow and de Maiziere periods managed to continue their careers in the political institu- tions of united Germany (see table 4.1). We can only speculate why so few of the actors from the revolutionary period and the last (and only demo- cratically elected) Volkskammer continued their parliamentary careers. Perhaps some of the civic activists were either too exhausted or too disillu- sioned to seek election to the new state parliaments. Others, it seems, were simply cast aside by the voters, as the low support for Alliance 90 would suggest (see table 4.2). Unlike the administrative elites in the new states, the state parliamen- tarians are overwhelmingly “homegrown”; out of a total of 509 parliamen- tarians elected in 1990, only twelve were westerners. Most of these “im- ports” had some tie to the east. One CDU parliamentarian interviewed in Brandenburg had fled the GDR with his family in the late 1950s and felt compelled to return in 1990 to help the east rebuild. Once elected, state parliamentarians were subject to mandatory Stasi- background checks by the federal commissioner for the records of the State Security Service of the former German Democratic Republic, also known as the Gauck-Behdrde, in Berlin. In general, decommunization in eastern Germany was aimed at persons who had been actively involved in the East German security agency, the Stasi, or who had taken part in crimes against humanity. Merely having been a member of the communist party, as 2.3 million East Germans had been, was not enough to exclude someone from public service. Furthermore, in principle, past contact with the state and party was not an obstacle to becoming a candidate for legislative of- fice. In contrast, the recruitment criteria for administrative office was more 97 openly exclusionary in that “extremists” on either the left or right were excluded from public service positions.'* In this regard, the GDR political and administrative elites were considered to be far-left extremists and consequently either released immediately or told to reapply for their jobs, whereupon screening for past Stasi affiliations often disqualified them. “Merit” and “competence” are criteria for elite selection in the new sys- tem, insofar as merit suggests a clean political record and competence refers to a potential to adapt to the new system, unencumbered by ideolog- ical baggage. “De-Stasification” is perhaps a better term for the focus of political cleansing in the new state parliaments. Ofa population of 16 million, about 97,00019 East Germans were “official” employees of the Stasi and 150,000 were “unofficial” collaborators, who knowingly or not had passed on infor- mation to Stasi agents and were regarded by the agency as useful, even though they never “signed on” as informants.”° By mid-1995, there were 1.6 million applications to the Gauck-Behdrde (Gauck Agency) made by public and private institutions to check the background of individuals (usually prospective employees). Another 950,000 individuals had re- quested to read their own files.”1 De-Stasification has been a painful and humiliating process for eastern Germans. There have been many tragic stories of East Germans who have read their files and found that colleagues, friends, relatives, even spouses spied on them for years. De-Stasification also had an impact on elite recruitment. Nearly 6 percent of the state legislators resigned by 1994 due to Stasi revelations. In Mecklenburg- Vorpommern, eleven out of sixty-six legislators were found to be tainted, with the CDU being affected most often. In Brandenburg by June of 1992, Table 4.2 State Election Results in East Germany, by Party, 1990 (percentage of vote) Mecklenburg- Party Vorpommern Brandenburg Sachsen-Anhalt Thiiringen Sachsen CDU 38.3 29.4 39.0 45.4 53.8 SPD 27.0 38.3 26.0 22.8 19.1 FDP 5.5 6.6 13.5 9'3 Bas) PDS Aba) 7/ 13.4 12.0 9.7 10.2 A90 6.4 6.4 5.3 6.5 5.6 Source: Konrad H. Jarausch, The Rush to German Unity (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994). Note: The parties represented are the Christian Democrats (CDU), Social Democrats (SPD), Free Democrats (FDP), Party of Democratic Socialism (PDS), and Alliance 90 (A90). 98 Transition to Democracy eleven of eighty-eight legislators were suspected of cooperating with the Stasi.?* During the first legislative period, a total of thirty parliamentarians resigned in the eastern states as a result of former affiliation with the Stasi.?* The rounds of Stasi revelations and consequent resignations from office, moreover, have had a demoralizing effect on many eastern politicians who found it difficult to overcome their image as “unprofessional newcomers” in the political institutions of unified Germany. The suspicions and scan- dals touched some of the most prominent public figures in the East, in- cluding Lothar de Maiziere, Ibrahim Bohme (a founder of the sDP), Gregor Gysi, and Manfred Stolpe (SPD governor of Brandenburg). The accusations led to the downfall of de Maiziere and the suicide of Bohme, while others, Gysi and Stolpe among them, fought to remain active in politics in spite of the charges. Elite Replacement The democratic elections of 1990, combined with the decommunization process, resulted in a near complete replacement of elites in eastern Ger- many. The transformation of the east German elite is evident when it is compared with the old GDR elite. One of the most obvious differences is the generational structure. The new elite is significantly younger: the aver- age age of eastern parliamentarians in 1993 was 44.3 years, while the average age of Central Committee members in the GDR in 1981 was 55.1,74 and the average age of political elites under Honecker (includes executive officials and Central Committee and Volkskammer members), 61.7.2° In a comparison of the gender composition of the Landtage, the two elites also differ. Despite official rhetoric about the equal status of women in GDR society, women accounted for just 11 and 13 percent of the Cen- tral Committee membership”* and only 5 percent of the overall political elite under Honecker (again, including executive, Central Committee, and Volkskammer).?” The distribution improved to 16.5 percent in the post- communist state parliaments. In addition to demographic differences, it is evident that the qualifi- cations structure of elites changed in important ways since the collapse of communism. The postcommunist parliamentary elite is comprised of fewer persons trained as industrial craftsmen, skilled workers, and medium-scale farmers and includes far more scientists, engineers and technicians, teachers and academics, doctors, and veterinarians. Another contrast with the old elite lies with the recruitment of former clergy mem- bers into politics, though their presence in the state parliaments (about 4 percent) is small in proportion to their role in the revolution of 1989. About 77 percent of the state parliamentarians in the east have an educa- tion beyond high school and, of those, about 32 percent studied engineer- ing of some kind.”* Science and engineering backgrounds, including those in agriculture-related fields, were professions relatively insulated from the political pressures of the official communist sphere. People from these fields were both well educated and politically untainted and, therefore, desirable to political parties in search of candidates. Other professions, such as social science, economists, scholars in the humanities, journalists, and artists, served as “hiding places” or “parking orbits” of professional- ism during the communist era and became important reservoirs for elite recruitment after 1989. In these careers, people could address political issues indirectly, relatively free of the official party connections. After 1989, the political inclinations of these people often led them to join polit- ical organizations and to seek political office.2° Finally, the local prestige gained over the years by doctors, veterinarians, schoolteachers, and even ministers also made these professions attractive reservoirs for postcom- munist elite recruitment. These people already had a great deal of vis- ibility at home, in the countryside, where they had earned the trust of people and formed informal networks of personal ties.°° Table 4.3 illus- trates the occupational structure of the three state parliaments included in the study. It is clear that the postcommunist elite is much more technical-scientific than the “workers and peasants” character associated with the old elite.*! Furthermore, the career path typically followed by the old elite was dif- ferent, in that it included membership in the communist youth organiza- tion (FDJ) and other mass organizations and, most importantly, the SED. Career stations often included leadership positions in state apparatuses, particularly in the economic sphere, planning organizations, industrial and agricultural production, mass organizations, the National People’s Army, or the Stasi.? This pattern of elite socialization in state and party organizations resulted in an elite that was characterized by a great degree of homogeneity and political-ideological conformity. While very few of the new state parliamentarians were members of the GDR elite, they did have some experience with political parties. A study by Derlien and Lock based on the handbooks of the five new Landtage indicates that 45 percent of all east German state parliamentarians were members of political parties before the revolution (though the actual num- ber is probably higher, considering that the handbooks had no informa- 400 ‘Transition to Democracy Table 4.3 Occupational Structure of Legislators in Three East German States, 1990-1998 Number of Legislators Mecklenburg- Brandenburg Thiiringen Vorpommern Occupation 1990-94 1994-98 1994-98 1990-94 1994-98 Science/Math 7 4 5 2 5 Engineering/ 32 26 16 22 30 Agriculture Medicine 8 7 9 zi 10 Education 17 20 14 10 ita Law 4 3 Ih 1 0 Economics 3 2 4 3 Theology 3 4 4 2 3 Political Administration 2 3 bee 0 2 Technical/Other 23 19 18 22 10 Sources: Handbooks of the Brandenburg Landtag, 1990-94, 1994-98; Karl Schmidt, Thiringen—Eine politische Landeskunde (Cologne: Bohlau Verlag, 1996); and Handbooks of the Mecklenburg-Vorpommern Landtag, 1990-94, 1994—98. *including 1 from West Germany **including 3 from West Germany tion on past party affiliation of 25 percent of the parliamentarians). Those with old party ties, not surprisingly, belonged to the PDs, CDU, and FDP. In contrast, 82 percent of the SPD parliamentarians had no previous party experience.** Previous party membership is a sensitive issue in the new parliaments. It can be assumed that most of the current PDS, CDU, or FDP (up to 1994, when there were FDP representatives in several parliaments) were members of the SED or its bloc party allies prior to 1990, although very few will readily admit to this fact. For example, in the short biographical statements pro- vided by the state parliamentary handbooks, only fifteen of the seventy (about one in five) parliamentarians in the Mecklenburg-Vorpommern Landtag reported that they were members of the CDU or other bloc parties before 1990. This information is self-reported, and it is likely that many more current CDU members are old bloc party members. Many of these people had been bloc party members for years—often holding local office and gaining useful political knowledge and skills. While the former mem- bers of the SED (overwhelmingly in the PDS today) are unable to deflect attention from their past party affiliation, many bloc party members take great pains to downplay their past affiliation. Despite these efforts, the 101 complicity of the old bloc parties in the continuation of the GDR regime is a sensitive issue in east, especially between old and new members of the CDU. A minority of the new legislators came from the political establishment of the GDR. A number of these people—almost exclusively located in the PDs today—attended special party schools, were active members of the communist youth organization (Freie Deutsche Jugend), and joined the communist party (SED) at an early age. In interviews, these parliamen- tarians described themselves as “typical GDR kids,” however, the oppor- tunities and privileges bestowed upon these citizens of the GDR were far from typical. Although, in the eyes of many, they carry with them the “taint” of the old regime, the knowledge and skills they acquired in the past are arguably of value today. In the east, none of the postcommunist parliamentarians comes with lifelong experience in the FRG political parties. A very few older people may have personal experience with the SPD or CDU before the GDR commu- nist regime came to power. A number of parliamentarians have been mem- bers of the SED or, more often, of the CDU or other bloc parties. Most, however, only have secondhand knowledge of the western political par- ties through West German television (available in most parts of the GDR before 1990), through parents’ prewar experiences, or through contacts with family living in the west. When the parliamentarians interviewed for this study were asked why they joined a particular party, the most com- mon response among current CDU members was the party’s Christian/ moral emphasis, as well as a move (back in the GDR days) to relieve the pressure to join the SED: I joined the cpu in 1978 for Christliche reasons. I never considered going into the SED. Instead, the CDU provided a niche. (Erfurt, July 1997) I come from a Christian home. We received help from the church after the war, because my father was lost in the fighting. I joined the CDU when I was eighteen years old! (Erfurt, July 1997) For me, religion played a small role, although Christian values played a very large role... . [joined in 1982. (Erfurt, July 1997) Through my job I felt a great deal of pressure to join the SED, so I changed jobs. It did not help, so I joined the cbU thinking it would prevent them from bothering me any more. . . . | was never active in the party though. (Schwerin, June 1997) 102 ‘Transition to Democracy For current SPD members, reasons for joining the party were often respect for certain SPD leaders or the fact that the party was new in 1990 and not tainted by bloc party status; [joined the spp in April 1990 because I had positive associations with the party of Willy Brandt and Helmut Schmidt. (Erfurt, July 1997) For me, the SPD was the clear choice, not so much because of the program as the personalities, the leaders like Brandt and Schmidt. I took a brief look at the Biirgerbewegungen, but they were too chaotic for me. (Erfurt, July 1997) At first I worked with New Forum, but it was nearly impossible to resolve issues with them. . . . I decided it was better to work within a party—within the spp. (Erfurt, July 1997) I never planned to enter politics. In the summer of 1989 I was camping in Hungary with my family. When the Hungarian authorities opened the border, I thought long and hard about leaving for the West. I de- cided, however, to return to the GDR and do something. In October, I joined the newly founded spp in my town. (Erfurt, July 1997) The SPD is associated with big names. . . . I joined the SPD because it was left but not communism. (Schwerin, June 1997) In contrast to the CDU parliamentarians, most of the spD legislators in the survey had not been members of either the SED or bloc parties in the GDR. While a very few (reportedly 2 percent) new parliamentarians entered pol- itics via the civic movement of 1989, the path to politics for most post- communists elites was rather short and uneventful. More often, people entered politics by coincidence: in many cases, they were the only ones willing and able to assume representative roles in their communities. Many people who had never planned on entering politics found them- selves on party lists or running for direct seats in the new Landtage. In in- terviews, numerous parliamentarians described how they had been urged by family and friends to run for office. Often, the idea to run for office was presented to them by party leaders. The newly formed political parties in 1990 badly needed candidates to run in communal, state, and federal elec- tions. The new elites often reported that they had very little time to think their decision over—sometimes only hours. Many said they had no idea what they were getting into, and that they did not foresee the amount of time required in the provincial capital, the complexity of legislation mak- ing, the time spent arguing details, or the amount of attention the media 103 would pay them (which the parliamentarians usually view as having a negative intent and effect). Some elites even reported that they thought the job was an honorary position without pay and were surprised to find that it paid (and relatively well, many added). To the extent that it was possible to be selective in the brief run-up to the first legislative elections in 1990, the political parties made an effort to recruit politically “clean” persons for party lists and direct seats. Perhaps more than an untainted past, however, there seems to have been a pre- mium on recruiting “safe-bet” candidates: those who were not mavericks likely to make waves but, rather, those who could be counted on to vote with the party. The result was the recruitment of very few bunte Végel (colorful birds), with exceptions such as the outspoken Regine Hilde- brandt in Brandenburg or Arnold Vaatz in Saxony. In general, the new parliaments elected in 1990 were composed of per- sons who were neither insiders nor dissidents. Most were on the periph- eries of power or safely in the niches of GDR society. The overwhelming newness of the elite had several implications for elite development after 1990: while there came many “real people,” unspoiled or untainted by the old system, few were prepared for the harsh realities of politics, such as not seeing their ideals realized as policy and having to compromise, or the amount of time, energy, and personal sacrifice a political/public role would demand. Many of the political newcomers come from deep in the apolitical “niches” of the GDR. These people had sought (or were limited by the regime to) educational and career opportunities that were outside of the official sphere. The price for “being left alone” by the regime was having to forgo the privileges of the official sphere, which may have given them access to political information or skills (such as bargaining, compro- mising, or articulating political ideas). Many of the politicians interviewed for the study described themselves as being politically inactive before 1989. If we consider the career back- grounds and pre-1989 political party membership of parliamentarians, this professed inactivity was especially true of members of the sPD and Alliance 90 parliamentary groups, whereas numerous PDS, CDU, and FDP politicians had existed in the “gray areas” of the GDR—between the official and unofficial spheres. Recall that those in the gray zone worked in a variety of nonparty occupations, providing them with experience and con- tacts that would be valuable in the new system. While at least 45 percent of the new state parliamentarians were mem- bers of either the SED or its bloc parties before 1989, few of these eastern Germans were party functionaries, or occupants of higher office. Only 23 104 ‘Transition to Democracy Table 4.4 Political Career Paths of Eastern State Legislators Newcomers 77% 2% entered Oct. 1989 (revolutionary upheaval) 35% March or May 1990 (Volkskammer and communal elections) 40% Oct. 1990 (Land elections) Old political careers 23% 10% uninterrupted 13% interrupted Source: Hans-Ulrich Derlien and Stefan Lock, “Eine neue politische Elite? Rekrutierung und Karrieren der Abgeordneten in den fiinf neuen Landtagen,” Zeitschrift fiir Parlamentsfragen, vol. 1 (1994), 61—93, at 75. percent of the state parliamentarians had held political office before the change of the regime, and most of these positions were at local or district (Bezirk) levels (see table 4.4). Thirteen percent had interrupted careers; that is, before entering the Landtag they had held other nonofficial jobs. Ten percent of the parliamentarians, however, had followed uninterrupted political careers. They represent a degree of continuity with the old elite, although most served at local and Bezirk levels. A number of the “old” leg- islators interviewed in Brandenburg reported they felt a sense of obligation to stay involved in politics and offer their expertise where it might be use- ful: “I am not new to politics. I was active in GDR times. I identified with the East German state and politics. I was a member of the city administra- tive apparatus in my Bezirk. In the Wende period, I took part in the local roundtable discussions in my town. I wanted to help in this period to make sure the transformation process remained peaceful. ... We wanted to begin something new together” (A PDS member, Potsdam, March 1994). However, the overwhelming majority (77 percent) of the state parliamen- tarians embarked on political careers only after the collapse of the old regime. Of the easterners elected to state parliaments in 1990, 2 percent had entered politics during the time of the revolutionary upheaval in Octo- ber 1989. Another 35 percent entered politics after either the March 1990 Volkskammer elections or the May 1990 communal elections. Forty per- cent first embarked on political careers with their October 1990 election to state parliament. In terms of democratic political experience, 14 per- cent of the new state legislators had been members of the democratically elected Volkskammer, 14 percent had been members of Kreistage (similar to county government), 10 percent held local offices, and a few had admin- istrative experience at the Kreis and local levels since March 1990. Most of the parliamentarians interviewed reported that they were re- cruited to politics by chance, following the period of upheaval in the fall of 105 1989. Many reported that they were asked by friends and relatives to run for office and that they agreed to be candidates out of a sense of personal responsibility to safeguard the process of democratization. In addition, some reported that they felt compelled to come out of the private refuge from public life and become active participants in the period of politi- cal change. As already noted, few old cadres survived the political transition, and relatively few opposition leaders from the revolutionary upheaval of 1989 remained in political office after elections in 1990. In the months between the collapse of the old regime and the first all-German elections in late 1990, elite recruitment went from including only the “insiders” of the official culture, to bringing in a number of the “outsiders” from the protest culture and, finally, activated numerous individuals previously inactive in politics. At least for the first generation of leadership in the east, many of the most experienced persons could not play a role in the transition and numerous political neophytes were catapulted into positions of political power. The consequence was a clean break with the socialist establish- ment but also a deficit in political savvy and managerial competence, which made the new elite vulnerable to outside influence. In many respects, the composition of the parliaments in the second legislative period (1994—98) did not change dramatically in terms of gen- erational structure, gender balance, or education and career structure. One reason for this was the large percentage of parliamentarians elected to a second term: in Brandenburg, the number of returning parliamentarians was 47 (53 percent), in Thiiringen 55 (62.5 percent), and in Mecklenburg- Vorpommern 33 (47 percent). There were, however, even fewer persons who had also served in the democratically elected last Volkskammer (in Brandenburg, the number dropped from 15 to 6 in 1994), as well as fewer civil rights leaders in the legislatures after 1994. One of the few remaining civic activists admitted his deep disillusionment with the course of politi- cal developments since 1990 and lamented the swift shift to “politics as usual” in eastern Germany: There was a mood of departure, or awakening, [Aufbruchstimmung] in the first legislative period. There was an excitement about bringing reforms and improvements to the FRG system. Now there is only everyday pragmatism [Alltagspragmatismus] and great disillusion- ment for some of us. Most of our hopes and expectations have not been fulfilled. ... There is hardly place for new thinking, innovation. (Interview with SPD member, Potsdam, June 1997) 106 ‘Transition to Democracy The path to state parliamentary office has changed somewhat since the first legislative period. What is most striking about the parliamentarians first elected in 1994 is that many have “come over” from the local level of government (27 in Brandenburg in the second legislative period). Specifi- cally, many held political, administrative, or party positions at the town (Stadt) or county (Kreis) level in the period after 1990. In most cases, these duties were without pay (Ehrenamtlich). Not only did people gain knowl- edge of issues and of the parliamentary process this way, they also be- came known among the voters and party leadership in their communities. Therefore it is not surprising that in 1994 many of the state parliamen- tarians that won direct seats (in the German electoral system, half of the parliamentary deputies are elected by plurality vote in single-member dis- tricts and half by proportional representation from party lists) followed this path to politics; that is, they first became local notables, in a good position to articulate local interests at the state level. Many of the newcomers to the Landtage in 1994 first joined a political party in 1990. Most of those interviewed for this study reported having little or absolutely no interest in politics before that time. In fact, most reported that they consciously avoided the public/political sphere and were not particularly active during the revolutionary events of the autumn of 1989. Parliamentarians frequently stated with pride, “I am no profes- sional politician” (Ich bin kein Profi), or “My path to politics was not at all spectacular.” “I never anticipated holding a political office” characterized almost every parliamentarian interviewed for this study. Non-elite status prior to 1989, the circumstances of 1989, and the subsequent search for “acceptable” party candidates all combined to open a career path that was previously closed and, more importantly, previously unattractive to most of the parliamentarians elected in 1990 or 1994. In this regard, the ma- jority of parliamentarians in the east could be described as coincidental politicians. Resocialization: Institutional Learning by Doing and by Example For parliamentarians in the eastern states, political resocialization, or pro- fessionalization, has occurred mainly on the job. Many mention that for months, at the beginning of their legislative term, they studied for hours every night after a ten- or twelve-hour day. Their “homework” consisted of reading law books and other materials about the Federal Republic’s legal, political, and economic order. This experience contrasts with that of post- communist administrative personnel for whom there were formal retrain- 107 ing courses conducted by western civil servants. All easterners interested in civil service jobs had to participate in the retraining courses and even- tually pass an exam to demonstrate they had acquired proficiency to serve in the bureaucracy. The term used to describe the level of proficiency is Anpassungsqualifikationen, or “adaptation qualifications.” These mea- sures are supposed to ensure that eastern personnel attain a level of pro- cedural competence. About the emphasis on conformity in the training and retraining of eastern politicians, one critical Brandenburg legislator described professionalization as dehumanization [Entmenschlichisierung]. . . . it is taking away the individual element in order to mold a political being. I am leery of the “management schools from the west” which ostensibly teach unpro- fessional Ossis the ropes of political life. The result is a separation of people from their former/true selves . . . making them into political animals. They lose themselves . . . become all the same. This type of life ruins people [kaputt macht]. No one is honest with themselves, or sincere in relations with others, with colleagues. (Interview, Potsdam, June 1994) This sentiment, from one of the few former civic activists in the Landtag, was among the most extreme heard in the interviews conducted for this study. These politicians, it might be argued, are particularly sensitive to the adjustment process. In the autumn of 1989, they were the champions of East German voice and empowerment. In the highly structured and exogenously managed transition process, many former civic activists are critical of the way in which the eastern voice seems to have been lost. Apart from a few former civic activists, no other parliamentarians in the study spoke of “professionalization” in such critical terms. Most saw pro- fessionalization as an inevitable process of learning the rules of parlia- ment, rather than a cultural or existential adjustment process. Despite the overall acceptance of FRG resocialization, and even though the overwhelming majority of the new state legislators are easterners, it is nonetheless inaccurate to speak of a totally “endogenous” development of parliamentarism in the east. The blueprint for parliamentarism was pro- vided by the west and its implementation overseen by western, imported personnel. The staffs of the political parties in the five state parliaments have drawn significantly on personnel from western partner states. In Brandenburg, for example, many key personnel are from West Berlin or Brandenburg’s west German partner state, Nordrhein-Westfalen. Public relations personnel and important administrators were brought in from 108 ‘Transition to Democracy the west to lend important know-how and also ensure that the new parlia- ments develop the established routines of the west. Almost all of the assis- tants to the eastern parliamentarians (with the exception of the PDs legisla- tors) in the 1990—94 period were westerners. These aides normally handle legislators’ correspondence with constituents and relations with the press, as well as provide the legislators with information about legislation and policy issues. In the new parliaments, they also helped to guide the new members of parliament through the maze of western rules and procedures. Through intensive direct contact with imported western personnel, east- ern elites received retraining that may be described as both “on the job” and “by instruction.” One western German official working in the east was quoted in the press as saying, “We are doing with the easterners what [the United States] did with us after World War II—we are reeducating them. Of course, we’re not allowed to call it that, because we are supposed to be equals. But that’s what it is.”°* This instructor-student relationship was the cause of much resentment in the first legislative period. Eastern parliamentarians inter- viewed in Brandenburg in 1994 expressed a range of opinions about the imported western personnel—from guarded approval to unabashed op- position. As one CDU legislator put it, “It would have been nice to have easterners instead of imports from the west, but we needed assistance in the beginning.” An SPD politician said, “This makes sense in the beginning phase; there are many political scientists in nearby Berlin. Mine [my assis- tant] is particularly sensitive. We have a good working relationship—he protects me.” Other legislators were much more critical: “Many bureaucrats and ad- visors from the west acted like occupation powers” (FDP, member Pots- dam, April 1994). When asked about the presence of westerners in the parliament’s administrative apparatus, another interviewee responded, “[It is] not particularly positive, even a few is too much. . . . There are simply regionally specific particularities that must be considered” (SPD member, Potsdam, March 1994). In general, there was a sense among inter- viewees that the institution-building process since 1990 had not allowed for an adequate amount of indigenous influence. Many expressed regret that there was little room for eastern German contributions, innovations, or leadership. For example: “East Germans must do it themselves. One needs to see that one can do it oneself. . .. We must pay attention to preserve our own identity. We need help, not direction or ruling, from the outside” (CDU member, Potsdam, April 1994). In the 1994-98 legislative period, many western personnel remained in the Landtage.*° In Brandenburg, many of the western personnel working 109 in the Fraktionen in 1994 were still there in 1997. Such continuity un- doubtedly contributes to building trust between eastern legislators and western personnel, particularly since the westerners become more sensi- tive to the day-to-day concerns of citizens in the east—and to the adjust- ment experiences of eastern parliamentarians. One case in point was a western aide to one of the Brandenburg Fraktion leaders. While the aide was Clearly sensitive to the particular policy problems in Brandenburg, he also was aware of the relative inexperience of many of the eastern parlia- mentarians with the press and with social scientists. During this author’s interview with the parliamentary leader of the Fraktion, the western aide frequently answered questions that had been posed to the leader. On sev- eral occasions, the aide provided his interpretation of the leader’s adjust- ment to politics, rather than waiting for the leader to answer. While this scene may not be wholly unfamiliar to other political settings, it carries a particular significance in the new states where eastern political neophytes are assisted by experienced western officials. Elite Building at the Local and National Levels of Elected Government To put the development of the new state parliamentarians into some com- parative perspective, let us briefly look at elite development at the na- tional and local levels. The state level of governance was the only new level to be created from scratch. Moreover, the state level lies between the national and local levels in terms of western influence on elite building. The pull of western norms and routines is likely to be the strongest in Bonn, where eastern elites are a minority and had no part in creating the political institutions, and weakest at the local level, where political in- stitutions already existed and have been transformed by mainly “home- grown” elites. At the federal level of politics, in contrast to the state level, accession to the FRG meant that no new institutions needed to be created. Western democratic political institutions had been in place for over forty years. Eastern German political actors at the national level merely moved into ready-made institutions, such as the Bundestag, the Bundesrat, the minis- tries, and the party organizations. The only new additions to the politi- cal party landscape were the PDS, which most observers believed would quickly disappear from the scene, the DSU, which was a small regional party with no chance of competing nationally, and the Alliance 90, which added a new civil rights dimension to the party system until its merger with the west German Green Party in 1992. The only significant debate about institutional change as a result of unification centered for a very 110 ‘Transition to Democracy brief time around the possibility of formulating a new, all-German con- stitution. Even after the decision to unite according to Article 23 of the Basic Law, the debate about the constitution was articulated by a few prominent eastern politicians, in particular by Wolfgang Ullmann, an op- position figure in the GDR and member of the Bundestag (Alliance 90/ Greens), 1990—94.*° In the Bundestag elected in December 1990, only 5 east German legisla- tors were members of the previous, communist-dominated, ninth Volks- kammer; 67 of the 71 federal parliamentarians who could be classified as “continuing careers” first entered office in the final, democratic, tenth Volkskammer. Of these, 5 had been ministers of the last GDR government. Many of the eastern legislators found the Bundestag a complex and ex- hausting environment where their ideas and experiences were not appreci- ated and occasionally were even met with hostility. In one well-publicized incident, Hans Modrow was heckled and booed when he attempted to speak on the floor of the Bundestag. The “qualifications gap” between eastern and western politicians, combined with the minority status of eastern Germans in the Bundestag, added to some easterners’ feelings of insecurity and displacement in the institutions of unified Germany.*” The marginal role of easterners in top federal government posts deserves mentioning in this regard, in particular since it was often mentioned in the Landtag interviews as a reason for remaining in state politics rather than campaigning at the national level. Clearly, eastern Germans are signifi- cantly underrepresented in important posts. Though in Kohl’s cabinet af- ter 1990 the number of easterners was commensurate with their share of the population—roughly 20 percent—the posts held by easterners were of marginal political significance. The most important ministerial posts— economics, finance, foreign office, and defense—remained the domain of westerners. The number of eastern cabinet members dropped to two in the last Kohl government. The current government led by Gerhard Schréder contains one eastern member. In the Bundestag, however, the important post of president is now held by an eastern SPD member, Wolfgang Thierse. Moreover, the rise and fall of the three eastern ministers in the first cabinet of unified Germany illustrates the fragility of east-west integration. Gunther Krause (CDU), who had been the GDR representative to the nego- tiations on the unification treaty and a state secretary under de Maiziere, was appointed transportation minister in 1990. Krause had to step down from this post, however, after a series of incidents in which he and his fam- ily members misused the privileges of his office. Krause became the sym- bol of the unprofessional, bungling Ossi and was replaced by a westerner. 111 The second easterner in Kohl’s cabinet was Rainer Ortleb. Ortleb had been a leader of the LDpPD bloc party in Rostock and later became leader of the refounded Fpp. Ortleb resigned in early 1994 after an apparently long and unsuccessful struggle to adapt to the Bonn style of politics. His down- fall, following bouts with alcohol abuse and depression, illustrated how the personal and professional strains of the transition affected some east- ern elites. His fate symbolized the difficulty of an easterner in adjusting to the culture of Bonn politics.** Finally, Angela Merkel (CDU), a scientist prior to holding the post of deputy spokesperson in the de Maiziere government, became the minister for youth and women, a post created by Kohl in 1990. The choice of Mer- kel, a scientist by training, over other more qualified easterners was crit- icized by those in the east who did not view her as representative of east- ern concerns. Her conservative positions on abortion were especially unpopular with many eastern German women. Merkel, however, was the only eastern minister to last the entire term and was named minister of the environment in 1994. Relative to the federal and state levels of government, the reconstruction of local political and administrative institutions followed a more “bottom- up” strategy of postcommunist political development. While unification meant the dissolution of the GDR central government and regional (Bezirk) structures, the local politicoadministrative structures, and some authori- ties, largely survived.*? Local authorities, however, did receive substantial western assistance in rebuilding those politicoadministrative structures in accordance with the legal system of the FRG. Although more than ten thousand western personnel helped in the reorganization of communal administrations,*° the distance of local politics in the east from the new political center in Bonn served to lessen the penetration by western trans- fer elites. After 1990, transfers at the local level of government were orga- nized according to partnership relationships between cities in the old and new states. Personnel from the west were sent to eastern cities to retrain old administrators and to recruit and train new personnel. Numerous eastern employees were sent to the west for so-called Hospitationen, or exchanges and seminars. According to German government estimates, a hundred thousand communal-level administrative personnel have been retrained through Fachhochschulen, administration schools, institutes, and admin- istrative and economics academies.*! There are several cities with western mayors and numerous local governments were aided by western advisors and bureaucrats, yet the personnel changes at this level have been the least drastic. Due to a degree of familiarity with administrative tasks from past 112 Transition to Democracy experience and also owing to the sheer number of easterners employed in local administrative bodies, local governments retained relatively more “old” personnel. The Impact of the Transition through Transplant on the State Legislators The transplant of a ready-made political system and the process of decom- munization have affected elite building at every level—national, state, and local. In many ways, however, the real laboratory for the merger of eastern culture and western institutions remains the state level of politics, since federal institutions already existed and local institutions were at least partially preserved. At the Land-level, however, institutional replication has been attempted. In contrast to the national and local levels, political and administrative institutions needed to be created where none had ex- isted since 1952, when the GDR government dismantled the Ldnder. The old GDR system of centralized political power concentrated in the Polit- buro in Berlin had to be dismantled. The creation of functioning govern- ments and bureaucracies in the five new states occurred rapidly; while it took several years for the communists in the GDR to centralize politics after 1945, it has taken relatively little time to decentralize political power in the east. External actors, norms, and procedures guided every aspect of the tran- sition process, including elite recruitment and resocialization. The “inter- nal factors nesting in the institutional and mental and cognitive ‘legacies’ of the communist ancien regime”*? could exert little influence in a sit- uation where most of the GDR leadership had been removed from impor- tant posts and western imports held many of the top administrative posi- tions. At the same time, the state parliamentarians—almost all indigenous elites—were consumed with the immediate demands of their office, such as passing hundreds of pieces of legislation, while learning a lifetime’s worth of rules and procedures for democratic governance. The transfer of democracy emphasized conformity and conservatism. The “restorative revolution” resulted in a compact transition driven by a Nachholbedarf, a need to catch up. The task for the new elite was to “fit” into ready-made arrangements, not to modify the arrangements according to indigenous cultural preferences and experiences. Eastern leaders con- centrated on learning the ropes and becoming more competent politicians. As such, “depoliticization” and “professionalization,” terms often associ- ated with the initial phase of postcommunist elite building, were essen- tially formal ways to resocialize the new recruits into the norms, institu- tions, and patterns of leadership of FRG representative democracy. 5 Developing FRG Politicians: Horizontal Integration The transplant of democracy entailed more than institutional harmoniza- tion; underlying the functional logic of the transplant was the notion that the prescribed role patterns of parliamentary democracy in the FRG should, and eventually would, shape elite attitudes and behaviors in the east. Along with the transferred political party system, parliamentary in- stitutions, and civil service came established patterns of elite recruitment, socialization, and training. To facilitate the establishment of these patterns in the east, western personnel retrained eastern personnel and assumed important administrative positions in the new Ldnder institutions. One of the crucial questions German unification raises is whether in- stitutional replication can produce elite replication in terms of elite com- position and character. Will German unification result in elite uniformity, or will the merger of two societies under one political institutional frame- work allow for unique patterns of political orientations and behavior at the elite level? Integration on the East-West Plane The unique character of horizontal integration in the eastern German case has already been established; elite integration does not proceed at a “natural” evolutionary pace, in step with the rhythm of political cultural change, as it does in other postcommunist cases. Political change in east- ern Germany has been more compact and accelerated due to accession to the Federal Republic. That is not to say, however, that evolutionary change is necessarily less disruptive than compact change. The transition stress in 114 Developing FRG Politicians other postcommunist cases is merely different; it does not necessarily entail the “psychocultural” dimension felt in East Germany, where West Germany has played a prominent role in guiding democratization and providing a measure, or model, for democratic values and behaviors. In unified Germany, elite integration is assumed to occur from west to east, with the eastern elite adopting the western patterns and with no change necessary for the western elite. Yet, as we have seen, up till 1989 the East German socialization experiences, the resulting political norms and behaviors, and the political recruitment patterns all had been funda- mentally different from those of West Germany. As historian Mary Ful- brook explains, “Despite the fact that both East and West Germanies were developing industrial societies, with associated tendencies (more marked in the West than the East) to urbanization, the expansion of new tech- nologies, and the growth of the service sector, the political conditions of socialization, work, leisure, and social involvement were, nevertheless, so very different that quite different practices and perceptions were found in the two states.”? Referring back to the push-pull framework described in chapter 1 for understanding postcommunist elite development, is it likely that the push of East German socialization experiences and patterns of political relation- ships will be so quickly and thoroughly replaced? Since 1990, the pull of the transferred western institutions within which the eastern elites work has been extraordinarily powerful. The transplanted political institutions have set the parameters for the emergence and development of the eastern elite by determining how elites are chosen and trained. It is reasonable to assume that institutions frame elite culture with formal rules.* For exam- ple, constitutions define the formal rules of political decision-making, and political party organizations influence the normative and behavioral pat- terns of their members. By virtue of their position in the new political parliaments, eastern elites are exposed daily to western norms for political behavior. And although like elites in other transition cases, eastern elites acquire a set of skills learned on the job, in the eastern German case, however, learning on the job allows for relatively less indigenous input and trial and error since the rules of the game come from outside and are demonstrated by western managers and instructors. Yet Ursula Hoffmann-Lange, a scholar of German elites, has noted, “(F]ormal rules are not sufficient to make a political system work smoothly. They provide only a framework that has to be filled with life.”* The life that fills the institutions is the set of informal rules learned through practice and habituation. In addition to formal rules, culture, values, and prefer- 115 ences fill the political institutions. We can conclude, then, that there is more to elite development than adapting to formal rules for political be- havior. Even in this case of system transplant, the institutional pull factors do not work alone; sociocultural push factors are also at work. We might think of horizontal integration as having two possible out- comes: elite uniformity and elite diversity. In the first case, it would seem logical that the type of exogenously directed elite building described in chapter 4 would encourage the assimilation of eastern elites to established western beliefs and behaviors associated with FRG parliamentarism. Most elite theorists assume that horizontal integration depends on the develop- ment of common socialization and recruitment patterns and that these common patterns result in value consensus, or congruence, among elites, as well as an esprit de corps. Since it is usually assumed that democratic stability depends, in part, on horizontal integration,* west-east elite uni- formity would be a positive development. Assumptions such as these have characterized much of the scholarly analyses of unified Germany: most studies, opinion polls, and official political statements reflect the notion that eastern and western German elites should be similar in terms of recruitment patterns, mentalities, and behaviors. An alternative hypothesis is that particular eastern German culture(s) will be maintained despite the assimilationist pressures of the transition through transplant. In this case, the underlying assumption is that dif- ferent past socialization and present political environments will have im- plications for elite attitudes and behaviors. Due to their different back- grounds, present circumstances, and constituencies, the eastern German elite will not entirely emulate the West German elite. According to this alternative interpretation, elite uniformity is not necessary and, perhaps, not even positive for the functioning and maintenance of democracy in postcommunist Germany. It is still too early to tell if one or the other pattern has prevailed. It may be that both patterns will characterize postcommunist elites for some time. In that case, elite building can be viewed as occurring along a con- tinuum, with some individuals quickly assimilating western elite pat- terns, while others, for a variety of reasons, do not. Therefore, in addition to investigating whether particularly eastern features of political culture and identity will characterize the elite in the five new Lander, this analysis of horizontal integration also considers to what extent there have been different patterns of elite adjustment to the transplanted western system. Before turning to the dynamics of elite acculturation in the east, let us briefly compare the composition of elites in the west and east. 116 Developing FRG Politicians Elite Composition Relative to western Germany, the structure of the eastern German post- communist elite differs in a number of critical respects, including demo- graphic profile and recruitment path. On average, eastern state parliamen- tarians are a few years younger than their counterparts in the west. While the average age of eastern elites in the early 1990s was 44.3 years, the average age of state parliamentarians in roughly the same period in Ba- varia was 49.5 and in Hessen 47.1, to mention just two western states.° It is interesting to note the pattern of age structure within the new state parlia- ments (see table 5.1). The CDU members in the east are on average slightly older; for example, in Thiiringen, where the average age is 45.9, the CDU average is 47.3, the SPD 45.6, and the PDs 42.8. In general, the party has had some difficulty attracting new, younger members, perhaps because of its former bloc party status, but also because of its conservative/Christian orientation. Compared with the western states, there are more women represented in the new Landtage. The proportion of women in the western state parlia- ments ranges between 9 and 29 percent, with higher proportions in the states with left-of-center majorities. In the Bundestag, moreover, women comprised about 20.4 percent in the 1990—94 legislative period, with the highest proportion in the SPD faction (27 percent), followed by the FDP (18 percent) and the cbDU and its Bavarian sister party, the Christian Social Union (14 percent). Ranging from 27 to 34 percent, the number of women in the Brandenburg, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, and Thiiringen Landtage is shown in table 5.2. Again, the CDU tends to be the exception, with a somewhat smaller share of women in its parliamentary ranks. Its policy positions (especially on abortion) may be unpopular with many East Ger- man women who were accustomed to the more “liberal-progressive” pol- icies of the old regime, for example regarding the role of women in the workplace. The PDs, on the contrary, clearly has the most women, owing perhaps to its more liberal policies on reproductive rights and positions on women in the workplace and, certainly, to its practice of placing women in at least 50 percent of the places on its party list of candidates in elections. Like parliamentarians in the west of Germany, the postcommunist polit- ical elites of the east have relatively high levels of education. Seventy-eight percent of eastern state parliamentarians studied beyond high school; their courses of study were predominantly scientific. Of those with higher edu- cation in the east, 20 percent studied engineering, 8 percent agriculture or forestry, 9 percent medicine, dentistry, or veterinary medicine, 9 percent Table 5.1 Age Structure of Legislators in Three East German States in the First (1) Legislative Period from 1990-1994 and the Second (2) Legislative Period from 1994-1998, by Party Brandenburg Total CDU SPD PDS A90 FDP Age 1 2 1 2 1 2 1 J 1 2 Under 30 6 2 1 0 I Al 3 1 1 0 30—40 23 27 7 6 15 2 5) 5 3 41-50 44 29 17 4 16 16 6 7 4 1 51-60 19 28 4 8 12 19 2 4 0 if Over 60 3 2 0 0 3 2 0 ll 0 0 Mecklenburg-Vorpommern Total CDU SPD PDS FDP No Party Age 1 2 1 2 1 2 Al 2 il 1 Under 30 1 1 0 0 0 il il 0 0 30—40 AS 14 7 4 4 3 6 1 0 41-50 31 22 13 11 10 7 6 4 2 0 51—60 AL7/ 30 a 13 6 il 2 6 1 il Over 60 2 4 2 2 0 ll 0 1 0 0 Thiiringen Total CDU SPD PDS FDP A90 Age 1 2 1 2 1 2 1 2 1 il Under 30 6 2 1 0 0 0 2. 2 2 1 30—40 32 I 14 6 7 8 5 3 4 2 41—50 32 32 16 16 10 10 1 6 3 2 51—60 18 35 13 19 4 ili il 5 0 0 Over 60 1 2 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 1 117 Source: Handbooks from the Brandenburg Landtag, 1990-1994, 1994-1998; Handbooks from the Mecklenburg-Vorpommern Landtag, 1990-1994, 1994-1998; Handbooks from the Thii- ringen Landtag, 1990-1994, 1994—1998, and Karl Schmitt, Thiiringen—Eine politische Lan- deskunde (Cologne: Bohlau Verlag, 1996), 109. Note: CDU = Christian Democrats, SPD = Social Democrats, PDS = Party of Democratic Socialism, A90 = Alliance 90, FDP = Free Democrats. natural sciences, 10 percent pedagogy, and 3 percent theology.® Among the first generation of postcommunist elites with technical and scientific back- grounds were many agricultural engineers. Other professionals included teachers, clergy, and health care professionals (recall table 4.3 from the last chapter). 118 Developing FRG Politicians Table 5.2 Gender Balance among Legislators in Three East German States in the First (1) Legislative Period from 1990-1994 and the Second (2) Legislative Period from 1994-1998 by Number (percentage) Total Women CDU SPD PDS FDP A90 1 2 1 2 1 2 1 2 i) 1 Brandenburg 19 30 2 6 20 6 8 1 1 (22) (34) (15) (11) (17) (38) (46) (44) (20) (20) Mecklenburg- 14 20 3 4 - 8 6 8 1 0 Vorpommern (22) (28) (10) (13) (21) (35) (55) (45) (25) Thiiringen 137) 24 3 6 4 10 3 8 2 1 (15) (27) (7) (14) (19) (35) (33) (47) (22) (17) Source: Handbooks of the Brandenburg, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, and Thiiringen Landtage for 1990-1994 and 1994—1998, and Schmitt, Thiiringen—Eine politische Landeskunde. These people were known in their communities and respected by their colleagues, and free from the party and nomenklatura connections that would have made them unsuitable candidates for office. Since rural areas and small villages characterize much of eastern Germany, it is not unusual to find many parliamentarians with backgrounds in agricultural engineer- ing, management of large collective farms, or veterinary medicine. In the first legislative period in Brandenburg, for instance, there were nine peo- ple with backgrounds in agriculture or agricultural engineering and four veterinarians in the Landtag. Veterinarians were the notables of the coun- tryside. They had frequent contact with people and were familiar with people’s concerns and complaints. As such, they were natural representa- tives of the “common folk” when the system changed. More importantly, they had worked outside of the GDR state and party institutions. In this respect, eastern German elites more closely resemble Eastern European elites than western German elites. In particular, studies of Czech’ and Hungarian® elites after 1990 find a large number of new politi- cal recruits from technical and scientific backgrounds. In the Czech case there were also numerous economists and lawyers in political office after 1990. These professionals were part of the “gray zone”—not part of the no- menklatura—but brought with them education and skills that became par- ticularly useful when the regime fell. Rona-Tas calls their professions “parking orbits,” because the people who occupied these positions were interested in politics but before 1990 avoided the confines of public/polit- ical activity. In the new environment, however, these people were pre- pared to come forward to assume political leadership positions. 119 The education and career backgrounds of western German parliamen- tarians are much more specialized. For example, in the late 1970s, 33 percent of West German parliamentarians had studied law, 15 percent social sciences, and 9 percent technology and natural science.? Consider, Dr. H., one of the rare westerners to have campaigned for a seat in an eastern Landtag, in this case Brandenburg.’° Dr. H. was born during World War II in what is today Sachsen-Anhalt. He started his schooling in the GDR, but his family moved west in the fifties, so he finished school in the FRG. He attended university in West Berlin, majoring in economics and political science. After several years of an academic career in West Ger- many, he embarked on a business career. Since the early 1970s, he has also been active in the CDU and represented his party in a variety of elected offices, including local, federal, and even European parliamentary posts. In 1990, Dr. H. became one of the “imported personnel” who assisted with the transition in the east. From 1990 to 1994 he served as a consultant in an economics and finance branch of the Brandenburg government. He was asked by cDU party leaders to run for a party list seat in the 1994 election. He entered the Brandenburg parliament in 1994 and has served on the important Committee for Budget and Finance. With his political science training and experience in political institutions, Dr. H. had several inter- esting insights into the transition and elite-building processes in the east. For example, he noted that the differences that exist in backgrounds and political experiences occasionally lead to competition, envy, and suspi- cion of those more experienced by those less experienced. He also sug- gested that there was a division in the Landtag between what he called a “functional elite” (i.e., those with practical, political experiences and skills) and a “spiritual (geistlich), intellectual elite” (i.e., with more nor- mative, moral skills). Of the latter, he asserted, their educational and ca- reer backgrounds do not necessarily make “successful political talents.” In the west it is less common for blue-collar workers and small-business people to move into political and administrative positions, where law and civil service backgrounds are more heavily represented. Moreover, in the old states, parliamentarians are often career politicians. It is common for parliamentarians to have held positions in political party organizations or, perhaps more commonly, to have moved to politics from a career in the civil service." Politicians often have a lifelong attachment to a particu- lar party, as well as lifelong contacts with other members through party youth organizations. As one eastern interviewee in this study explained of the FRG national elite culture, “Everyone in Bonn already knows one another—they have known each other for years. They have a tight-knit 120 Developing FRG Politicians club, therefore, which is impossible for easterners to join” (SPD member, Schwerin, June 1997). The result of an increasingly specialized education and standardized career path in the west is a highly professional and homogeneous political elite. Clearly, eastern elites are not the specialized political professionals that their western counterparts have become. Eastern elites are younger and more “practically” oriented in their backgrounds than the more pro- fessionally homogeneous western elites. Several interviewees described their backgrounds as “real life” and “everyday.” Their education and ca- reers have not been oriented toward public office. While their everyday backgrounds may give eastern elites a better understanding of the interests of average eastern citizens than professional politicians, they do not neces- sarily prepare them for the tasks of rebuilding political and administrative institutions or for the complexities of democratic governance, including coalition building, party discipline, political campaigns, and the general rhythm of politics in the communications age. Nachholbedarf? Catching Up to FRG Elite Patterns Easterners began their political careers without the same professional po- litical socialization and training, and thus without the democratic politi- cal expertise, of the western elite. In the west, education and career paths had developed together over four decades and, moreover, had even been left intact after World War II. The system of democratic centralism in the GDR, in contrast, had destroyed prewar patterns of elite professionalism. Thus, in the all-German political system after 1990, eastern elites have been at an experiential/qualifications disadvantage. A preoccupation of the new elite has therefore been the acquisition of skills and training that brings easterners to levels of competence commensurate with western ones. There is no reason to believe that eastern elite educational and career paths will not eventually converge with the western patterns. Already in eastern Germany the school curricula have conformed to western stan- dards and many of the professors at eastern universities are westerners. With this infrastructure in place, specialized legal, social science, and civil service training is likely to become more common among the political elite. The path to politics is also likely to follow the western model, which is predominately through the political party organizations. Assuming that elite educational and career patterns of the east even- tually converge with those of the west, can we expect attitudes and be- haviors to follow? Elite theories generally assume that as elite education, 121 occupation, socialization, and recruitment paths become standardized, or institutionalized, over a period of time, the political elite becomes in- creasingly specialized in terms of knowledge, as well as more homo- geneous in terms of sociodemographic characteristics, democratic val- ues, ideas about what are important political issues, and organizational memberships.” Many parliamentarians interviewed at the end of the first legislative period did indeed express doubt that the “typical GDR” socialization and career backgrounds characteristic of the current generation of political elites would carry over to future generations. Some expected that the sec- ond legislative period, 1994—98, would move the east closer to the western patterns: “The uniqueness of our particular career pattern will recede. It will resemble the pattern in the west (where) party careers are the normal way to politics. In the east, only this first Landtag or so will be different. This will soon change, because [it] is only a phenomenon of the transition phase” (FDP member, Potsdam, January 1994). Others expressed the opin- ion that the eastern profile will persist for some years: “My generation will likely hold onto basic elements of this [eastern] political style” (SPD mem- ber, Potsdam, January 1994). Most observers (and the parliamentarians themselves) believe the unique pattern of what may be called “citizen- politicians” in the east will eventually give way to a more typical (i.e., western German) political-professional pattern of lawyers and civil ser- vants, with a path to politics through the political parties. Almost all of the parliamentarians interviewed for this study said they regretted that the composition of parliaments will likely conform to the more party-career/ bureaucratic model of the west. They expressed a fear that politics will lose something as a result—a “sensitivity and an everyday perspective.” For the time being, however, all of the political parties in the east are ex- periencing difficulties attracting new members. Several parliamentarians commented that few young people want to enter politics at the moment, because they see brighter opportunities (in terms of salary, as well as the impact of work on society) in the private sector. The net effect may be that state parliaments will continue to be comprised of a particular generation of eastern Germans with roots in the GDR—in terms of the regime in which they were socialized—and an unusual, at least by western standards, path to politics. Whether these unique patterns affect elite culture and identity is examined below. Drawing on interviews with state parliamentarians and from a variety of data on political elites in the east and west, we can compare elite culture in the new and old states and determine to what extent horizontal integration has occurred in unified Germany. 122 Developing FRG Politicians Elite Culture Most studies of values and attitudes in the new Germany focus on the mass level. Although there is wide disagreement about the meaning of opinion poll findings, these studies have found important areas of difference be- tween political values and orientations in the east and west. Most ana- lysts attribute these differences to the very different political systems in which the two populations were socialized, the transition shock experi- enced by easterners, and the different circumstances that characterize life in the east and west. Are these differences reflected in the new parlia- ments? To what extent do the markedly different socialization, educa- tional, and career backgrounds of elites in the new parliaments produce particular political attitudes and values, as well as elite self-perceptions and identity markers? On one hand, like the mass public, the new state parliamentarians have “GDR biographies” and have experienced the tran- sition and adjustment to the new system. On the other, the elites are in constant and direct contact with western political norms and procedures. Might the stronger pull of western norms and institutions overshadow or transform eastern regional particularities? The few studies that have been done of political elite culture in unified Germany suggest that, although there is general agreement about core democratic values among eastern and western elites, there are important differences in the character of those democratic values.'* While it is im- possible to say how long such differences will persist, my interview study and secondary sources lend support to the notion that the process of as- similation is not complete. While convergence has occurred, several areas of difference between eastern and western elite cultures persist. The Western Model One relevant starting point for any discussion of the “model” orientations to democracy associated with the transferred West German political sys- tem is the concept of it as a party democracy. “Party democracy” suggests the centrality of political parties and the party system in the Federal Re- public’s political life. In the classical model of party democracy, moreover, political parties are agents of political integration. They mediate between state and society, and they articulate and order interests of the groups they represent. In theory, party democracy in the FRG is based on multiparty competition, assumes a legitimate role for the opposition inside and out- side of parliament, and implies that political action can originate from out- 123 side of the party organizations or parliament. By the late 1960s, however, there appeared to be a mainstream consensus on democratic principles, which had given rise to a frozen party system characterized by two large catch-all parties.*° This consensus was challenged by issue-based elec- toral volatility and a growing emphasis on nonparty participation through citizens’ initiative groups and social movements.'® Despite the impact of the 1960s participation revolution and the rise of the Green Party over a decade later on the political agenda, representative democracy, rather than direct, participatory democracy, still characterizes the FRG system. The structure of FRG representative democracy shapes elite character. In particular, the primacy of political parties as a “casting mold of elite roles” remains firmly in place in the FRG.’” Moreover, as political scientist Werner J. Patzelt reminds us, “German MPs have strong ties to their parties, the main reason being the system of proportional representation. . . . [A] candidate can expect to be elected to parliament if his party places him high up on its state party list. That usually requires his longstanding prior party activities in the course of which close ties between the representa- tive and his party are established.”** Among West German political elites there is a relatively high degree of consensus regarding the formal and informal rules of the democratic game, particularly with regard to elite roles and behavior. Political elites are generally in agreement that representative democracy is the business of professional politicians. Moreover, there are modes of conflict and conflict resolution that are widely accepted by West German elites, such as com- petitive electoral campaigns, party conflict within parliament, and contro- versy between interest groups and in the media (as long as none of these conflicts poses a threat to the constitution).'® Many in the current generation of FRG political elites in the west were socialized during the years of postwar affluence and are accustomed to a wide network of social services provided by the state. Their worldview is more international and less influenced by organized religion than that of previous generations of political elites in the FRG. It might also be said that their identity is more multilayered, in particular more European, than previous generations. Many western political elites (and the western pub- “oo lic in general)—especially those of the “’68er” generation—have adopted a postmaterialist set of values, which often corresponds to “new politics” issues, such as the environment and other quality of life issues.*° Inter- estingly, many eastern parliamentarians saw their western colleagues as politically savvy party professionals who were, however, less in touch with people’s concerns. 124 Developing FRG Politicians The Eastern Context By contrast, eastern German political elites were socialized in a markedly different environment. In the GDR, “party democracy” meant that although several parties existed in the GDR, there was no electoral competition between them. The number of seats allotted each party in the Volkskammer was predetermined, and the bloc parties operated within the parameters allowed them by the SED (including how many members the bloc parties could have). The purported democratic character of the GDR system rested with the institutionalized representation of approved groups and the guar- antee of “official” participation in the political system. Unlike westerners, easterners have no experience with political competition and conflict. The top-down version of party democracy that translated to instruction from the SED and the guardian relationship between the state and the people produced reactions that still shape political culture today: some recoil from politics entirely, and others desire more opportunities for direct cit- izen participation. Exposure to socialist ideology and life in a bureaucratic socialist state has had an impact on easterners’ orientations toward democracy and state- society relations. Available evidence suggests that eastern elites are in general agreement about the basic political rights of the new system,”! but, in their conception of ideal democracy, they have a more social-egalitarian vision than their western colleagues. Specifically, eastern elites value di- rect participation more than western elites do, who favor representative rather than a participatory democracy and more frequently mention civil rights and political competition as primary democratic components. Table 5.3 summarizes such different conceptions of democracy among eastern and western members of the Berlin parliament. The easterners’ views of democracy reflects the value they place on ac- tive participation, direct democracy, and social equality. Such views were reflected frequently in the interviews conducted for this study and were occasionally combined with criticism of established FRG political rou- tines; “The parties must reform themselves. There is not enough connec- tion to the Basis [the party base at the grassroots]. What is needed is more plebiscitarian elements in FRG democracy. I am deeply critical of politi- cians who say that the public is not competent to handle more plebiscitar- ian elements. True, plebiscitarian decisions will not always be favorable to parties. . . . [T]hat is OK, it is reasonable” (SPD member, Potsdam, March 1994). Also, “The instruments of FRG democracy are not enough. We need more plebiscitarian forms. We have them in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, 125 Table 5.3 Conceptions of Democracy among Eastern and Western State Legislators, 1991-1992 Democratic component East Berlin West Berlin Government by the people 26.6 25.8 Active participation WEL, 12.4 Direct democracy 25.3 22. Social equality 35.4 7.9 Civil rights/limited government 64.6 73.0 Institutions 40.5 60.7 Political Competition 20.3 30.3 Source: Robert Rohrschneider, “Report from the Laboratory: The Influence of Institutions on Political Elites’ Democratic Values in Germany,” American Political Science Review, vol. 88, no. 4 (December 1994), 927—941, at 931. Note: Figures are percentages of East and West Berlin parliamentarians mentioning one or more democratic component. true, but they have been set aside. Everything is decided by parliament. I wish there could be more citizen input” (PDS member, Schwerin, June 1997). Eastern parliamentarians value contact with their constituencies more than westerners, but they have less time for constituency work.”? That easterners value interaction with their constituencies is interesting. On one hand, one could say that there was a great deal of elite-mass contact in the GDR—at least in terms of top-down communication through party- dictated channels of interaction. On the other hand, there was a clear lack of the kind of elite-mass contact valued by the civic groups in 1989. The ideas of a more citizen-oriented politics that provided a rallying point in 1989 are still important, at least theoretically, to the eastern elites. Finally, that easterners have relatively less time than legislators in the west is also understandable. In the transition context, political institutions had to be rebuilt, an unusual amount of legislation had to be passed and, most im- portantly, the organizational networks that link elites and masses were not, and are still not, sufficiently developed. Despite this problem, the combination of the eastern elites’ socialization in a Marxist-Leninist sys- tem, their short experience with representative democracy, and the recent experience of the mass mobilization to remove an authoritarian regime, eastern parliamentarians are more positively disposed to a participatory, or plebiscitarian, type of democracy than the western elite. It is also interesting to note in this discussion of elite culture that, when asked to place themselves on the left-right scale, eastern elites view them- selves as more left-leaning than their western counterparts.”* Though the 126 Developing FRG Politicians measure itself is not particularly revealing, the responses of eastern elites concerning the meaning of “left” and “right” revealed some interesting differences. In terms of positions on economic issues, “left” in the east is in some ways more conservative than in the west, and “right” is relatively more liberal than is the case in the west. For example, as one western official in the Stolpe government explained, the SPD in the east is more like Willy Brandt’s spp, in particular regarding issues of economic develop- ment, with the free market as a defining element of the political agenda. The eastern CDU, on the other hand, is relatively more concerned with what might be called “social” issues than the CDU of the west. This was a source of tension between eastern and western members of Chancellor Kohl’s party, especially regarding the deindustrialization of the east and its impact on mass unemployment and social stability. In some respects, a “materialist” or economic-security orientation char- acterizes eastern elite culture more than do postmaterialist, quality-of-life concerns such as environmental protection. This may be partially ex- plained by the eastern German experience with forty years of scarcity. This preoccupation with the economy stems not only from the GDR past but also from the current context in which mass unemployment, economic uncertainty, and deindustrialization characterize the concerns of the pub- lic. When asked to rank the most important issues confronting society, postmaterial concerns were ranked lower than the importance of jobs, the social net, and the development of the market economy, for instance. The materialist dimension of eastern German economic identity shapes the po- litical issues of immediate and long-term concern in eastern Germany. Such classic, or Old Politics, welfare state socioeconomic issues are no longer as important or as urgent to much of Western Europe.” In the West, New Politics concerns, such as gender issues, the environment, and peace, have gone from being the exclusive reserve of the New Left and Green parties to being included in the platforms of mainstream parties. As long as stark differences in the economic and social conditions in the east and west of Germany persist, old and new political value differences and atti- tudes about the economy are likely to divide eastern and western elites. In other regards, however, eastern elites exhibit more postmaterialist values regarding citizen participation and influence in politics. The Potsdam Elite Study conducted by Biirklin et al. reported that 52 percent of the eastern elites versus 26 percent of the western elites scored “more citizen influence” as a top priority.?° Another dimension of elite culture is how the elites themselves view their roles in the political process. The new parliamentarians were ini- 127 tially wary of accepting the labels “elite” and “politician.” One possible explanation for this initial hesitancy is the years of exposure to communist ideology, which professes to oppose the notion of social classes and, there- fore, the division between elites and masses. However, the reason for an anti-elitist disposition among eastern elites probably also lies in the reality of life in a closed society where the gap between the leadership and the people was acute and where the notion of “elite” raised suspicion and fear. These associations are understandable in a society that has experienced life under both National Socialist (Nazi) and Soviet-style regimes. Another possible legacy of the authoritarian past, however, is that eastern elites are more accepting of giving the state responsibility. In the Potsdam Elite Study, only 44 percent of the eastern respondents versus 71 percent of western elites said the state should give up responsibilities.”° In addition to a cultural distrust of elites, the facts that most easterners were entirely new to politics and came from “everyday” backgrounds likely contributed to their common self-perception as nonprofessional politicians. Some elites view this self-perception positively, asserting it makes them closer to the people. They suggested that this made them more sensitive to the interests and problems of average citizens in the transition and less beholden to particular organized interests and party politics. Oth- ers view this lack of political professionalism as a weakness to be over- come by learning from western colleagues and by becoming experts and managers. One interviewee reported that when she ran for office she real- ized “that as politician in the transition phase, [she] would be both student and teacher” (PDS member, Potsdam, March 1994). Another legislator de- scribed her role and the role of parliamentarians in general as trying “to sell democracy to the eastern public [which] has little direct experience with democracy, [and] does not identify with ‘democracy’ and ‘rights’ the way that westerners do” (SPD member, Potsdam, January 1994). Only rarely did legislators report that they viewed their role as tied exclusively to the transition period. This suggests that most have accepted their roles as politicians and intend to remain in politics for the fore- seeable future. Another possible explanation suggested by one of the par- liamentarians, was that many of the new elites would be unemployed without their parliamentary jobs and that this fact could influence their emerging self-perception as professional politicians. It is relevant here to note that numerous easterners lost their jobs after unification or gave up their professions to become parliamentarians, knowing it would be nearly impossible to return to the workforce in the current economic situation. As another Brandenburg parliamentarian suggested, the financial depen- 128 Developing FRG Politicians dence of many eastern elites on their jobs as politicians creates a pressure for party discipline. He expressed disappointment that some people who were activists before the revolution have surrendered their opinions to the party to ensure a place on the party list in elections. Arguably, if members of the established parties do not conform to the organizational and pro- grammatic positions, they will not be supported, that is, placed on lists, or be given more responsibility to assist their rise through the ranks to top positions. It is interesting in this regard to consider the findings of the study by Werner Patzelt, which surveyed over 300 national and state parliamen- tarians from the east in the year following unification. Patzelt found that eastern German parliamentarians, like their colleagues in the west, have started to think of themselves as party politicians. Only about 45 percent of those interviewed in his study had experience with political parties prior to 1989.” The parties themselves, especially the CDU and FDP, have undergone significant changes since 1989—90, however, and many people have switched parties. This indicates that the attachment to a particular party (with the exception of the PDS) probably is not based so much on emotional ties as on tactical considerations. In other words, the new sys- tem and the formal rules of the game induce actors to adopt certain pat- terns and roles. Whether these rules and roles have been internalized, that is, accepted as the best way of doing things, is another issue. Rather, one could say that, at aminimum, eastern elites have learned “the ropes” of the new procedures, not only in order to get by but also to achieve political goals. In his study of state and federal parliamentarians, Patzelt finds that “basically the same role orientations known from west German parliamen- tarism could be discerned among east German MPs as early as in 1991-92. Most of the significant differences between east and west German repre- sentatives that remain intact until today exist exactly in those areas where the functional logic of the newly erected system simply could not exert its intrinsic effects. That is true... with respect to some individual values and attitudes deeply rooted in the east German political culture.””® The formal rules of parliamentary politics were transmitted to the new elite by the transfer of institutions and demonstrated by imported western party managers and parliamentary assistants. While the formal rules of the “parliamentary game” were already well established and could be studied and practiced, the informal rules, guiding political discourse/communi- cations, for example, are not as easily transferable to the new elite. Not having been socialized in a western, individualistic, “conflict culture,” eastern elites have had to learn the confrontational style of western Ger- 129 man parliamentary politics. According to one western “import elite,” mis- understandings often occurred between the eastern legislators and their western assistants because the eastern Germans tended to take what west- erners said literally, not understanding the intentions, connotations, and nuances of western German political speech. This is somewhat ironic, since in the communist system of the GDR, eastern Germans were ac- customed to double-talk and to reading between the lines. In the old sys- tem, however, people knew what to expect; they knew the official version was not entirely accurate, and they knew how to act accordingly. In the new democratic system, people, including elites, did not know what to expect from western politicians, how to interact with them and, espe- cially, how to bring their own influence to bear at the bargaining table. The process of learning informal rules is more complex, since these rules are shaped by traditions and culture. Adopting the informal rules of the western institutions would require changing the way people think and communicate. Adapting the informal rules, however, would allow the 2 66 possibility of preserving elements of easterners’ “own” culture in the new political institutional context. It is in this informal realm only where an eastern elite culture or political style may contribute to politics in the new Germany. Evidence of adaptation of the informal rules of the FRG democracy is difficult to find. One possibility was the “Brandenburg way” that one heard so much about in the first few years of the transition. Interviewees in Brandenburg spoke with obvious pride about their special brand of poli- tics, which transcended party lines to find meaningful solutions to the problems that faced Brandenburgers. This emphasis on nonpartisan coop- eration and solidarity began to fade by the end of the first legislative pe- riod, overshadowed by partisan differences and calculation. Interviews with parliamentarians in Brandenburg, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, and Thiiringen reveal that eastern elites have largely adopted the western in- formal rules, although, for some, only with some difficulty, or discomfort. A general regret expressed by many second-term legislators (although by far fewer in the CDU) concerned the rapid replacement of a roundtable style of politics with a partisan/majority-rule type of politics imported from the west. Reportedly, the parliamentary debates of the earlier phase were much more lively and substantive, and multiple viewpoints and creative ideas were considered. That spirit reportedly faded and in its place, parlia- mentary work was characterized increasingly by political calculations and the search for majorities to pass legislation favored by the state govern- ment. Moreover, almost all interviewees said that the committee work in 130 Developing FRG Politicians the first period was much more interesting and rewarding. In the second legislative period, in contrast, a number of interview partners expressed the belief that the room for creativity in the legislature had decreased. The responses of the parliamentarians regarding the political process were revealing in a number of ways. Interviewees often remarked that party discipline played too great a role in the legislative process. In Meck- lenburg-Vorpommern and Thiiringen, where there are grand coalitions (CDU and SPD), some were quick to remark that coalition-discipline was also occasionally frustrating. Although this critique was the strongest among members of the opposition—the pbs—it must be noted that mem- bers of the coalition partners occasionally voiced frustration with the dominance of the coalition parties. Moreover, some legislators claimed that the opposition should be taken more seriously and that many voices and ideas should be heard, rather than just that of the governing coalition. This was an especially interesting critique coming from some members of the sPD in Brandenburg; after 1994, the spp held an absolute majority in parliament and before that was the largest partner in a three-way coalition (with the FDP and Alliance 90/Greens). These SPD faction members made the following remarks in interviews for this study (Potsdam, June 1997): I found the coalition [1990—94] better. The opinions and discussions were more varied. The two small coalition partners had consulted well. ... [T]he plenary sessions were more interesting and we more closely analyzed prob- lems. Now the plenary sessions and even the committees are bor- ing. ... [No] one brings forward new ideas. I have some regret over the absolute majority. The exchanges had been better in the first legislative period. Now the spD is further from its clientele. Others mentioned that their work seems more perfunctory, since many decisions have already been made by the government and party Fraktion leaders before coming to the floor for discussion. A concern about majorities and minorities and the importance of op- position emerged frequently in the 1997 interviews. One can interpret this concern as a reflection of a fundamental political value, or orientation, linked to the GDR experience. In the old regime where all political deci- sions were essentially made by the communist party leadership, there were no real choices, or consultation, accountability, or transparency. Af- ter such an experience, some people said they preferred to hear as many 131 opinions as possible, to hear a variety of voices, or to include a number of parties in decision-making. The antimony of conflict and consensus in German politics has long been a theme in the political science literature. As Max Kaase reminds us, “The lesson to be learned from the particular German past. . . is that consensus and conflict must strike a precarious constitutional, institu- tional, procedural and attitudinal balance which has to be continually redefined and adjusted.”?° Interviews with eastern parliamentarians re- vealed an overwhelming preference for consensus—not at the expense to the competition of ideas—but a general leaning toward a consensual style of politics. A possible explanation for this preference may be related to the unique nature of the problems facing the eastern German states. In the complete transformation of a system, there are many issues to address and problems to solve for which there are no easy solutions. It is conceivable that parliamentarians feel such issues and problems warrant a thorough discussion in order to arrive at the best possible solutions. Moreover, in the transplant of a system, where ostensibly norms and routines already established in the west are to be implemented in the east, there may be additional impetus to debate issues and hear a variety of voices before opting for the western-established routines and policies. It is also possible that eastern German parliamentarians deliberately refrain from adver- sarial politics because of the fear that too much conflict might subvert the necessary consensual basis of democratic politics. In such a sensitive and chaotic transformation environment, where public trust is already low, there may be more than usual desire for consensus, what one parliamen- tarian characterized as Harmonie Bediirfnis, a need for harmony.*° The political system transplanted from the FRG promotes a majoritar- ian, partisan style of politics. Moreover, the electoral system fosters the growth of large catch-all parties and makes it more difficult for smaller parties to enter parliament (there is a 5 percent hurdle). With the Alliance 90/Greens and FpP unable to cross the 5 percent threshold in most eastern states in 1994 (the exception was in Sachsen-Anhalt where the Alliance 90/Greens passed the threshold and entered into a minority coalition with the SPD), there are fewer parties and, several parliamentarians added, fewer voices in the Landtage today. For some people, it also means a greater feeling of isolation, whereby party or coalition discipline stifles the opinions of individual members. Furthermore, the 1997 interviews for this study revealed a marked dis- may for the bureaucratic nature of parliamentary work and, in some cases, the German political system in general. According to one legislator, the 132 Developing FRG Politicians burdensome bureaucraticness takes much of the “fun” out of the job. Oth- ers did not think the legislative process should take so long or be so la- borious and seemingly ineffective. They found representative democracy to be surprisingly slow and cumbersome, leaving little room for innova- tion. The partisan bickering, political profiling, constant search for com- promise were all sources of frustration for some lawmakers. Interestingly, it was the PDs politicians who appeared to be most comfortable with con- flict, consensus building, and compromise—perhaps owing to their rela- tively greater exposure to political affairs. With their educational and ca- reer opportunities (often including postgraduate education and positions in some of the most important organizations in the GDR), it is not surpris- ing that these people were often better prepared for political-managerial roles. In interviews with state parliamentarians, these people demon- strated a greater ability to think abstractly about the political situation in the east and to articulate their views. They often displayed the most knowledge about other political systems, having had the opportunity to travel and study abroad (albeit in other communist countries). Notably, they were also the most comfortable with being in an opposition role. Over the past seven years, the PDS has put forward many ideas and grand vi- sions—knowing they would not have to actually put the ideas into prac- tice. In other words, they have had the luxury of analysis, abstraction, and being the nay-sayer without the responsibility that comes with gov- erning at the state level. Interestingly, this is something that the PDs inter- viewees readily admitted and, moreover, some even said must not change. Several even said they would not remain in parliament if the PDS were in a governing coalition because the best role for the party was as a left- opposition force. In general, in the second legislative period, the optimism and enthusi- asm of the first few years has faded. Second-term members of the parlia- ments, as well as those members with pre-1990 political or party experi- ence, were generally less disturbed by the “routinization” of parliament, while some of the newer members voiced more serious doubts about the new system and debated whether they would seek reelection in the next election. These people were frustrated with their inability to make the impact they once thought they could and wondered if they would not be more effective in another field. With experience, their idealism had faded and the norms of FRG parliamentarism had become second nature. By far the greatest disappointment among parliamentarians in the east was how little individuals can really influence politics. Said the leader of the spp Fraktion in Thiiringen, “I thought I could do more . . . [but] in 133 reality, individuals cannot do what they think. The rules and institutions of the system set the parameters. . . . [L]ike a corset, they limit what the individual can do... [and] accomplish.” Another parliamentarian (CDU) in Mecklenburg-Vorpommenrn said, “I have started to reconsider if I should stay in politics . . . if] am cut out for a political life. Iam often frustrated because I cannot make things happen here [in parliament]. Maybe I should make an impact in other ways, maybe in the economy, information tech- nology, global communications.” The wistful phrase “I thought I could do more” was most commonly heard from the more socially conscious, ide- alistic members of the state parliaments. In general, the transferred model of representative democracy was viewed with frustration by those who said they preferred more direct, citizen-oriented democracy. Similar cri- tiques were also fairly typical of the formerly apolitical, deep-in-a-niche parliamentarians, albeit for somewhat different reasons. Many said the new system was overly burdensome, taking too much time to debate the technicalities of issues and encouraging “profiling” and posturing over practical action and problem-solving. In sum, it can be seen that, along with the rules and procedures of FRG parliamentarism, a partisan style of politics and coalition behavior has been transplanted to the east. This does not mean, however, that it was happily taken over. Many noted that they had wanted to preserve something good, something different, and to im- prove upon the FRG system. Despite the many unmet expectations of a better/ different political style in the east, there are a few notable areas in which eastern politicians dif- ferentiated themselves from their western colleagues. All of the parlia- mentarians interviewed seemed to think that eastern politicians are more socially conscious than their western colleagues. They attributed this to their GDR experience—to having lived with “deficits.” Moreover, having been on the “wrong side of history” gives them greater humility, as well as firsthand knowledge of another type of system (something many current legislators in the west do not have). The eastern elite further believed that they are comparatively more sensitive to the difficulties of adjusting to a new economic and social system. They thought themselves to be more “down-to-earth” than western counterparts, in that they have had the humbling experience of a transition that changed almost every aspect of their lives. They are painfully aware that system transformation engenders many hopes and fears for people—people who are accustomed to full em- ployment, not to mention a full array of state-provided services, such as infant and child care, after-school programs for youth, and wider repro- ductive choices for women. Moreover, since 1990 the deindustrialization 134 Developing FRG Politicians of the east and the hardships experienced by a privatizing agricultural sector further exacerbated the eastern public’s fears and insecurities about the new system. The findings of this parliamentary elites study bear several important similarities to other studies of administrative elites in the new Lander. Clearly, administrative elites function in a very different environment from parliamentary elites: The bureaucracies have very clear guidelines and allow for very little insertion of personal or regional-specific style. Nonetheless, studies of this group of elites illustrate well the dissonance between the old GDR political socialization and the new FRG political institutions. As previously noted, a number of the middle- and lower-level personnel from the GDR bureaucracies were retrained and retained, though no upper- level personnel remained after 1990. The fact that these people were so- cialized in the official culture of the GDR elite has a number of implica- tions. On one hand, they have had experience in political institutions and might be expected to learn the formal rules of the new political game without much trouble. On the other hand, their political experience was in the so-called democratic-centralist system of the GDR. While the formal rules for the plural democratic system of the FRG are learned through retraining courses and through contact on the job with western personnel, informal rules for conduct may not be as easily relearned or replaced. One German study examined the administrative culture of these “holdovers” and found that, despite intensive retraining efforts, the underlying admin- istrative culture of eastern elites still reflects elements of the political culture of the GDR.*! Compared to western officials, easterners are more favorably disposed toward a paternalistic style of leadership (in terms of a strong executive branch of central government), and they are more in favor of government activity directed at the development of social policies to even out differences among the social strata. The study concludes that the predominant western type of administrator may be called a “policy facili- tator,” or political bureaucrat, whereas the eastern administrator is typ- ically a “reactive classical bureaucrat” who tends to “retreat to his expert role in public administration.”*? Easterners, it would seem, are less ac- customed to thinking in terms of innovation and individual contribution to political administration. This pattern is likely attributed to the emphasis on teamwork in the political institutions of the GDR. The result, as one western state secretary in the Stolpe government described it, is a host of communication problems between eastern and western personnel, as well as a lack of creativity, innovation, or ability to deal with uncertainty and 135 conflict on the part of eastern bureaucrats. According to the official, “If one looks deeper than the institutions, the structures, one sees clearly that two cultures remain.” Another study of administrative officials in the east after 1990 examined the administrative culture of local government officials, with special at- tention to cultural differences between eastern personnel and western im- ports. When eastern and western respondents were asked about the most important dimensions of their leadership role, a number of interesting differences were evident. Of particular interest was the different value given to the “ability to improvise”: only 33 percent of the easterners ranked this as important, versus 56 percent of the western respondents. Also, the importance of the “ability to get along/communicate well with citizens” ranked relatively high with easterners, 67 percent, compared to 44 percent for the westerners.** What is striking about administrative and political elites in the east is that while both have adapted to their prescribed roles as bureaucrats and parliamentarians and are concerned about acquiring professional compe- tence, they are relatively more sensitive to the need for “people skills” than are westerners. Easterners more often cite the importance of being “close to the people,” of the “Lebenskultur,” their “eastern biographies,” and elite-mass communication. Identity The self-perception of eastern parliamentary elites is profoundly affected by the eastern experience and identity, albeit in a variety of ways and to different degrees, depending on the individual. When elites in 1994 in Brandenburg were asked for my study whether they believed that a par- ticular eastern German identity exists, slightly more (ten out of eighteen) responded yes. Follow-up questions, however, evoked responses that re- vealed a distinct “eastern” dimension in terms of elites’ self-identification. For example, one Brandenburg parliamentarian said, “I will remain an East German in this [political rebuilding] process. I have a different politi- cal culture. I try to bring a different politics over. . . . [Instead of making people feel indebted [to the West], hesitant to be active, I have to encour- age them to assert their own voices” (SPD member, Potsdam, May 1994). Another parliamentarian noted, “East Germans have had a common his- tory, experiences, life relationships, upbringing, schooling, work world... and these have formed people in a special way. Another aspect of this is a notion that the state is responsible for everything!” (CcDU member, Pots- 136 Developing FRG Politicians dam, April 1994). Others described the East German identity as “a sense of community, solidarity, and an ability to improvise” (PDS member, Pots- dam, March 1994); “[e]xperience under the wall and a particular socializa- tion pattern” (SPD member, Potsdam, February 1994); and “not as ‘cool’ as the ‘Wessis’ and not disposed to thinking that one must market oneself” (PDS member, Potsdam, February 1994). Cautiously, some added, “[P]oliti- cal culture—yes, there is an East German one, but we can not have a partic- ular East German identity. This would create a divide” (Alliance 90 mem- ber, Potsdam, May 1994) and “In principle in the long run there will be no East German identity, but as long as the transformation lasts, there will be one. Emotionally, this entails a feeling of being undervalued, of standing in the shaded-side of history” (SPD member, Potsdam, February 1994). The most common identification may be summed up as “East Germans in a united Germany.” Some interview partners readily admitted that this identity—what many referred to as the “eastern biography”—shapes their views as parliamentarians. They were quick to point out that their eastern perspective was not antiwestern or antiunification, but rather it stemmed from a connection to a common past as well as the shared transition experience. Only a minority of the interviewees doubted there was anything posi- tive about the eastern German identity. For a few, particularly among the old bloc party members of the CDU, eastern identity had less to do with current reality than with “nostalgia for the past” and a “self-pitying” in- clination. Several elites described the eastern perspective as “envious” (neidisch) and “always in comparison to the west,” feeling “inferior,” and resembling a “ghetto” mentality. According to these formulations, the east- ern German identity can be viewed as a defense mechanism based on feelings of victimization, alienation, and displacement. Others defended the positive aspects of eastern identity, noting the im- portance of preserving local tastes and traditions and, perhaps, the self- respect and integrity of easterners from assimilation to the western/major- ity culture and identity. This was most common among members of the PDs and sPpD. Among those interviewees who spoke of a particular eastern identity, there seemed to be a concern that the eastern German experience has been devalued and judged unfairly by current—western German—laws and standards for determining right and wrong. Some elites were worried that easterners might be repelled by a system that dismisses their experi- ences and potential contributions and that is guided by discourses and behaviors that are unfamiliar to many eastern Germans. What is desir- able, and what seems to be lacking, is a positive identity based on self- 137 confidence and a sense of political efficacy that could nurture a civic ethic and domestic unity. With the marginalization of the civic movements in the initiating election of 1990 and the swift institutionalization of the western German political party system in the east, this “civic pride” di- mension of eastern identity has been lost, at least temporarily. According to one politician, “Many people feel they are vassals to the West Germans. The billions the west poured into the rebuilding of the east is constantly held over the heads of eastern Germans. The problem is that Germans simply don’t find it easy to share with each other. The issue shapes rela- tions between east and west. Easterners feel guilt, indebtedness, indepen- dence, while the westerners feel they make all of the sacrifices and are therefore owed something” (SPD member, Potsdam, May 1994). This, too, shapes the eastern identity in subtle ways. It creates a desire to be more independent and to develop a sense of confidence and competence. Many eastern politicians are hesitant to focus too much on the eastern iden- tity, because they fear they will be viewed as malcontents, as Jammeros- sis, or worse, as unable to adapt to the new norms and routines of FRG democracy. So far, only the PDs has made eastern identity a part of its party image and platform. The party has capitalized on the regional-eastern dimen- sion, using it as arallying point for mobilizing support for its positions and also for critiquing the established parties’ “business as usual” approach. As the next chapter will illustrate, the pps has placed grassroots, plebisci- tarian democracy on its banner, pledging to offer alternatives to Bonn-style power politics. The PDs is the sole “eastern” party. Despite its efforts to expand to the west, it retains a regional dimension. In effect, eastern iden- tity has been reclaimed by the pps and, as a result, made eastern pride taboo for the established parties who receive cues from Bonn and who see a conflict between east-west integration and the celebration of eastern identity. Critics of the positions and regional party identity of the PDs charge the party with espousing “socialist populism.”** Because the other parties and most individual political elites believe they must distance themselves from the pps, the possibility of an eastern identity as a base for mobilizing political activity and developing civic pride may be inadver- tently further eroded. A particularly sensitive dimension of the East German biography and eastern identity concerns the individual’s relationship to the past, or a person’s willingness to openly discuss her past. Several parliamentarians in Brandenburg spoke without hesitation about their own past, in particu- lar about whether they were SED members, if they actively or passively op- 138 Developing FRG Politicians Table 5.4 Acceptability of Old Elites among Legislators in the State of Brandenburg, 1994 Question: Do you believe that former functionaries of the SED apparatus should be allowed to hold office in new governments at the following levels? Yes No Local 10 7 County ii 10 State 5 12 Federal 5 12 Question: Do you believe that former functionaries of the GDR state apparatus should be allowed to hold office in governments at the following levels? Yes No Local 15 2 County 15 2 State 7 10 Federal 7. 10 posed the regime’s policies, if they had seen their Stasi files, and whether they thought Vergangenheitsbewdltigung, dealing with the past, was nec- essary. Those who had been communist party members generally admit- ted as much, although rarely went into detail about the reasons for their joining or the extent of their involvement. Few of the elites reported actu- ally having opposed the regime. Many had read their Stasi files and over- whelmingly, they favored keeping the files open. The significance these parliamentarians placed on past political experience and the question of whether “old” elites should be allowed in new governments depended on the type of past political experience—whether party or state roles—and the level of the new government position—local, state, or federal. Past experi- ence in party positions was viewed as less acceptable than merely having been in a position in the GDR state apparatus. Also, respondents were more likely to accept old elites for positions in new local governments but unlikely to view them as acceptable for positions at the federal level (see table 5.4). Toward the end of the first legislative period in postcommunist eastern Germany, public debate about the Brandenburg governor Manfred Stolpe’s Stasi file and his alleged official contacts in the GDR erupted. In the old system, Stolpe had been an administrator in the Protestant church organi- zation and for years had contact with officials in the state and party ap- paratus. As his Stasi file suggests, Stolpe may have also accepted gifts 139 from representatives of the Stasi. After the incriminating information in his Stasi file was made public, a special parliamentary commission was formed in Brandenburg, headed by Lothar Bisky—the respected leader of the pps in the Landtag—to investigate the charges of cooperation and ac- cepting gifts from representatives of the GDR regime.*° Those members of the special investigating commission who came to politics from the more protest-oriented milieu, particularly in the Alliance 90, tended to see the Stolpe issue in absolute terms of guilt and innocence, lies and truth. To many of the former civic activists, ifa person had collaborated with the old regime, he or she was not morally qualified to represent the public in the new system. Accordingly, it would be self-defeating to allow people from the old guard or the “gray area” to conveniently escape any responsibility for the GDR past and to suddenly purport to be in favor of democratic principles in the new system. The responses of the interviewees concern- ing the Brandenburg governor Manfred Stolpe are particularly interesting. Most Brandenburg parliamentarians interviewed in 1994, with the clear exception of those affiliated with the Alliance 90, pointed out the impor- tance of Stolpe’s eastern identity as a defining factor in their (and the public’s) support for him. Several differentiated between Stolpe and “just any” eastern politician, such as former governors Gerd Gies, Josef Duchac, or Alfred Gomolka—all of whom left office in Sachsen-Anhalt, Thiiringen, and Mecklenburg-Vorpommenrn, respectively before the end of their terms. According to some in the Landtag, easterners supported Stolpe because he did not perceive himself as a “loser” of unification. He was not injured and did not perceive himself to be a victim, even as a result of the controversy surrounding his past political contacts. Rather, he was a capable and self- confident politician who was proud of his Brandenburg roots and eastern identity. He was proof that easterners can “do things for themselves” and do not have to rely on the western politicians (as did governments in the states of Sachsen-Anhalt with Werner Miinch, Thtiringen with Bernhard Vogel, and Saxony with Kurt Biedenkopf). Even if he has made mistakes and his record is blemished by past contacts, elites in my Brandenburg sample and much of the eastern public continue to back Stolpe because he is one of their own.** He represents their own mistakes and the ambiguities and contradictions of their own pasts. As such, Stolpe is perhaps more “representative” than a civic activist who actively resisted the old regime and now seeks to cleanse eastern politics in the name of morality and truth. Stolpe does not run from the past. However, he does step over it in an attempt to move on, as many in the east would themselves like to do. The Brandenburg interviews reflect the belief that the Stolpe debate is 140 Developing FRG Politicians an eastern issue. Westerners cannot understand the GDR experience, hav- ing not lived it, and therefore should not judge Stolpe or people like him. Finally, Stolpe offers a remedy for the dependency of easterners on west- ern help. He is a figure who symbolizes the bridge between the old system, with its contradictions and ambiguities, and the new system, where east- erners often feel they are subject to standards and rules they did not create. While the eastern parliamentarians interviewed were nearly unanimous in their attitude that unification was, in principle, the correct choice for eastern Germans,*” there was also a strong agreement that the way unifica- tion was executed has ignored eastern identity, that the transition (i.e., the need to change) has been too one-sided, and that more reform is desirable in the west. A substantial number of respondents noted the predominance of western actors in the transition process and half of the sample said the unification process has been characterized by a “democracy deficit.” Moreover, a number of respondents indicated that they believed the form and path of the transition to be unsatisfactory. According to one Branden- burg parliamentarian interviewed, “When the state-of-law system of the west was taken over, the common knowledge of easterners was devalued over night. The emphasis is on the correct rules and procedures... which are not the eastern way. As a result, many eastern Germans feel disadvan- taged [benachteiligt] in the current arrangements” (leader of the Alliance 90 faction, Brandenburg, May 1994). This statement reflects a concern about the mode of transition, namely the assimilation and the devaluation of people’s experiences, beliefs, and potential to contribute anything to the process of unification. Though the regional elites generally reported that their overall experi- ences with western colleagues has been positive, most indicated some degree of strain in working relationships with imported personnel, specif- ically with some saying that the eastern experience has been ignored or devalued. More than half of respondents (nine out of seventeen) in the Brandenburg sample reported they felt a difference in status between east- ern and western personnel existed in their own Landtag. They were in overwhelming agreement that eastern Germans were able to have the most input at the local level of politics, followed by the state level, and the least influence in politics at the federal level. It is at the local level, or periphery, that politics is least penetrated by imported western personnel, and the center, or federal level, where pressure for conformity is the greatest. In sum, forty years of division, an era during which each side served as a “negative example” for the other, has undeniably produced a certain level of mutual distrust. At first glance, western imported elites saw easterners 141 as the overly idealistic, naive, newcomers who needed, and requested, guidance from the experienced western Germans. On the other hand, east- erners alternately appreciated western expertise and advice and resented the arrogance, lack of personal empathy, and competitive and confronta- tional behavior of westerners. Looking back over the four years of the first legislative period, eastern parliamentarians admitted that western experi- ence and expertise has been necessary. However, it also had the effect of a Bevormundung, of making decisions for the easterners (a term formerly used to describe state-society relations in the GDR). Now that easterners have acquired experience with the new system, they may be more inclined to trust their own judgments and abilities than to look to westerners for cues. Whether western, imported helpers should stay on in positions in the political institutions in the east or whether more indigenous personnel should be used instead remains a sensitive issue. It was obvious that when questioned about this the Brandenburg interviewees did not want to ap- pear ungrateful; however, several responses clearly suggested the belief that easterners are now capable of running their own political institutions without western guidance. While only a handful of interviewees directly claimed that easterners could now assume roles occupied by western im- ports, others stated their objections to excessive western influence in more subtle ways, focusing on the need to understand (i.e., to have experienced) the needs and concerns of the eastern public. The leader of one of the governing parliamentary parties in Brandenburg said, “[Leadership] must be indigenous . . . closed to outsiders until the transition phase is over, perhaps ten years. Then it will be alright if leadership is from the out- side/ west. In the current situation, however, sensitivity is needed” (leader of FDP Fraktion, Potsdam, April 1994). The leader of the PDs Fraktion summarized his frustration with western influence this way: The West German political style is shaped in Bonn. The parties fight with one another in the parliament, then drink beer with one another later. This is what I cannot do. It is schizophrenic . . . this public behavior versus private behavior. This political style was adopted because everything was adopted. People gave themselves up. How- ever, it was a mistake that everything had to be done like in the Fed- eral Republic. Politicians try to kill off memories of the GDR—take for example the discussion about the destruction of the Palace of the Republic, chang- ing street names, seeing history as black and white, where the GDR is 142 Developing FRG Politicians black and the FRG white. The criminalization of everything in the GDR, the attempt to destroy everything, has no chance. Hate and mar- ginalization bring nothing good. Frustration and nostalgia are the re- sults. People have more material things—what they wanted from uni- fication, cars, and so on, but they are missing other dimensions of GDR life. (Interview, Potsdam, March 1994) This argument reflects a concern that what is needed from the postcom- munist eastern elite is more than just Sachkompetenz, or procedural com- petence. The new elite also must deal with the eastern past and with the particular values, desires, and fears of east Germans in the new system. Elite Behavior: Patterns of Adjustment to FRG Parliamentarism How do these elite values, attitudes, and orientations translate to elite behavior? By the end of the first legislative period, when this author ob- served the Brandenburg parliament in session over a period of six months in 1994, parliamentary procedures appeared to have been learned thor- oughly by eastern political elites. A few legislators, particularly those affil- iated with Alliance 90 and the pps, expressed dissatisfaction and frus- tration with aspects of the imported patterns of internal and interparty interaction. However, most of the interviewees either viewed the develop- ment of party discipline in the parliament uncritically or saw it as a neces- sary evil of parliamentary politics. In the 1997 follow-up study, questions about learning parliamentary procedures and the possibility of an eastern contribution to the political process were met with mildly curious grins. Seven years after accession there was little hope of creating something new in the east. The postcommunist political elites themselves echoed the belief of Werner J. Patzelt, who, in a 1996 article, concluded, “There devel- oped no new type of parliamentarism, only a differentiated [one]... . Moreover, there developed no new type of parliamentarian.”** Such a con- clusion, however, tells us little about the individual and collective experi- ences of the postcommunist elites in the transition process. It gives us no indication of the ease or difficulty of elite integration or the range of re- sponses to the new rules for and patterns of elite behavior. Such an anal- ysis rests upon the assumption that what really matters is the institutional setting, or the pull factors, and that past socialization and local cultural particularities are irrelevant. This chapter, however, has demonstrated several areas where eastern elite culture remains distinct from the west. Push factors do shape elite development in terms of values and attitudes. 143 Do they also shape elite behavior? Below we examine the impact of transi- tion through transplant on elite behavior and find that there have been a range of elite responses to the imported patterns of parliamentary be- havior. The reasons for this variation can be explained by the different backgrounds and career paths of the postcommunist parliamentary elites. The interviews and observations undertaken for this study in 1994 and 1997 confirm one of its central propositions: the transplanted political system has produced tremendous pressures for conformity to a particular model of political culture and behavior. The mode of transition in eastern Germany fosters a particular type of acculturation strategy. Rather than integration, which would imply the maintenance of eastern German cul- tural integrity as well as the movement to become an integral part of the larger Federal German societal framework, assimilation has been encour- aged. Assimilation occurs when a group relinquishes its cultural identity and moves into the larger society.*° It is feasible that the mode of transition could ultimately lead to what may be called deculturation. Deculturation occurs when groups or individuals are out of contact with either their traditional culture or the larger society (recall the interviewee quoted in chapter 4 who described the process of elite professionalization as “dehu- manization”).*° Though the appropriateness of this term taken from so- ciology is limited, it does draw attention to the possibility that assimila- tion can go too far, stretching the limits of an individual’s ability to change modes of thinking and behaving, or producing a sense of anomie. The responses to the transplanted norms for elite behavior correspond roughly to a continuum ranging from assimilation to deculturalization. The range of responses can be characterized as follows: political mimicry, synthesis, independence, and withdrawal. Each pattern may be found in any one of the Landtage, however, political mimicry and synthesis are the most common. Political Mimicry It is useful to turn once more to the environment in which acculturation in the new system occurs. The transition context is characterized by tremen- dous uncertainty about the future in general and about political identities in the switch from one system to another. There is a sense of interruption, or perhaps, confusion about where one belongs in the new order. The postcommunist elites who operate in this new environment of uncertainty may be described as insecure actors.*! In the postcommunist situation, such actors may search for new identities. Often this search leads to a 144 Developing FRG Politicians rediscovery of the past. In the wake of the revolutions that swept across East-Central Europe in 1989, there has been a rediscovery of religious, ethnic, and cultural pasts that were buried or muted by the decades of Soviet-style regimes. In the eastern German case, however, insecure actors do not find the same comfort in past identities. Looking in the past re- quires examining the problems of the GDR and facing the nightmares of National Socialism—long considered the responsibility of the west. In ad- dition, the GDR past will always be measured against the FRG. In the new Germany, where eastern Germans are a minority and the all-German sys- tem is not homegrown, they may feel that their own past is flawed and inferior to the west. Some easterners, including members of the political elite, find certainty and security in “borrowed” identities and political symbols. In this respect, the party organizations and programs of the estab- lished western German system are borrowed identities. The transferred political institutions offer a ready-made identity and set of symbols and identity markers. By emulating the political style associated with the new political sys- tem, in particular the identities of western political parties, eastern politi- cal actors find both a degree of confidence in new roles and insulation from past associations. For example, the “old CDU” members, those who belonged to the party when it was still a part of the communist national front or bloc, conveniently slipped out from under their past political identities and gained instant legitimacy when the party was refounded and eventually merged with the cbU of West Germany. The eastern politi- cal elites may have accepted the western parties’ identities, even if the party programs did not always address their eastern life experiences and interests. . Following the conceptual and institutional vacuum left by the implo- sion of the GDR and then in the confusion and uncertainty of the transition environment, assimilation was the most obvious response to change and the most expedient path to fitting into the new political roles. There are several possible reasons for this response. One obvious reason is that the new parliamentarians believe that the transplanted western roles and rou- tines are the most appropriate. However, it is significant that even a CDU politician would remark, “The FRG system does not fit this situation” (interview, Schwerin, June 1997). Another possible explanation for con- formity to the western norms and routines lies in the political inexperi- ence of many political actors. An externally driven transition and pre- scribed roles and routines offers some guidance, indeed security, for new politicians. To these explanations, I would also add the availability of a 145 borrowed identity/culture. In this regard, assimilation may be particularly appealing to “old” party members who desire a new start and wish to dem- onstrate their democratic credentials by conforming to western norms, routines, and style of political behavior. Interviews revealed a pattern of assimilation/ mimicry most common among former bloc party members of the CbU. Eager to shed the past and move into an era of prosperity and respectability, these politicians readily assumed the new roles and ac- cepted the FRG norms with pride. Moreover, this group most often rejected any notion of an East German identity, and they generally saw little worth preserving from the past. Many of these parliamentarians emphasized rec- onciliation and did not want to draw attention to particularistic interests or preferences that might suggest a failure of integration with the west. In cases of extreme assimilation, elites may cling rigidly to the new political consensus. If we consider that most eastern elites are neophytes and that they may experience self-doubt in their new roles, or what one interview partner called a “minority complex,” it is conceivable that some easterners eagerly embraced western practices and separated themselves from the eastern culture and identity. Some even hired speech coaches to help them shed their eastern accents and improve their rhetorical style. In this situation, easterners probably feel compelled to “catch up” to western standards.*” Since during the first legislative period in the east, many political elites were preoccupied with their own quest to acquire political competence, conformity may have provided a way of compensating for their political inexperience and their lack of qualifications relative to western standards. Considering the tremendous amount of new rules and procedures that had to be learned, it is not surprising that new parliamentarians would look to westerners for cues about how to package ideas or project a particular image. The rules of plural democracy were equally new to all eastern legisla- tors. Interviews in the Brandenburg Landtag, however, revealed that elites with previous experience in politics seemed to have found the public role more familiar than did the political newcomers. A number of easterners who had maintained a distance from public life in the GDR indicated that at first they found the new position as political actor to be much more complex and time-consuming than they had imagined. For newcomers who probably found it more difficult to conceptualize their ideas, to de- fend them from partisan attacks, and to maneuver their programs through the appropriate channels, the ready-made political platforms and the party discipline of the western political parties were a type of safety net. 146 Developing FRG Politicians Clearly, not all of the parliamentarians elected to the new Landtage have assimilated. Moreover, the reasons for assimilating, or not, are not the same for everyone. Integration or Synthesis Other eastern elites are insistent that assimilation will not suffice; rather integration requires inclusion. Easterners must be equal partners. Rather than assimilation, perhaps Ossimilation**s—emphasizing a synthesis of eastern culture and the new western system—is more conducive to democ- ratization and integration. The arguments presented in this study suggest that what is needed in the postcommunist east Germany is a pattern of political leadership that rep- resents the democratic culture of the new system while preserving the cultural integrity of easterners. The ideal type of leader in the transition, therefore, is one who possesses the confidence to articulate particular eastern interests, yet who does not call into question the importance of the democratization and integration processes. Models, or Leitfiguren, of local competence and confidence are important because they inspire feelings of political efficacy among easterners and, therefore, may contribute to a more confident and more civic-minded electorate. Additionally, positive identification with political leaders may translate to positive identifica- tion with the political system and its norms. There are a number of integration figures among the new eastern politi- cal leaders who are able to synthesize aspects of the old and new political cultures. The best known is perhaps Wolfgang Thierse, a federal parlia- mentarian and vice chairman of the spp. Thierse, who is one of the few easterners to rise to the higher ranks of the Social Democratic Party leader- ship, more accurately represents an integration figure who tries to synthe- size the best parts of both cultures. As Thierse explains, “What can we bring with [us]? It is not so terribly much for the time being: the spirit of a new start, the charm of beginners, of nonprofessionals. The experience of breakdown as well as the experience . . . of difference, tolerance, and of a minority. An important difference that we in a larger Germany should not forget.”** Thierse represents a political elite style and identity that is nota mere adaptation of western patterns and which is keenly aware of the importance of the GDR experience and the East German biography in the political landscape of unified Germany.* In state politics, Brandenburg governor Manfred Stolpe may be charac- terized as an “accidental synthesizer.” He is viewed by many people as a 147 champion of the people in the east, but at the same time he would have conformed easily to the new system, shedding his past, if it had been pos- sible. The public disclosures and debates surrounding his biography, how- ever, have inadvertently become a springboard for a broader discussion of how to interpret the eastern past in the new context.*® As such, Stolpe bridges the past and present, at least symbolically. It is also interesting to note that one of the most popular symbols of regional pride and political competence is the governor of Sachsen, the west German Kurt Biedenkopf. Though not an “indigenous” leader, Biedenkopf has made “self help” an important part of his leadership style. He speaks about decentralized, re- gional solutions for unified Germany and tries to instill pride in the work, ideas, and experiences of his eastern constituents. This type of inclusion- ary and localized strategy is much more likely to create positive attach- ments to the new system and the “Federal Republican” identity than a regional identity rooted in resignation or feelings of inferiority. In my 1994 survey of the Brandenburg parliament there were relatively few obvious integrationists. Most parliamentarians had spent the last three years learning the rules and roles of parliamentary democracy. The few integrationists were found in the spD and Alliance 90. By 1997, how- ever, this pattern of response to the transplanted system was much more common, and although it could be seen across the party spectrum, it was more prevalent among SPD members. Nonconformity or Independence Despite the relatively rapid assimilation of eastern elites into western par- liamentary roles and behavioral patterns, many easterners say that they are still less thick-skinned and more emotional and passionate in politics than their “professional” western cousins. Based on their impressions of west- erners as seen on television, as well as their personal contacts with west Germans since unification, the eastern elites generally view themselves as more open, honest, and collegial than their western counterparts. Rhetori- cally, they admit, they are not as skillful as westerners whose style of political discourse is more provocative and polemical. Yet, there are excep- tions, such as Gregor Gysi and Regine Hildebrandt. The ubiquitous Gysi is smart, sharp-witted, and energetic. His presence in the Bundestag in the last decade has been marked by outspokenness, and he is well known in both the east and the west. Hildebrandt, head of the Brandenburg Ministry for Labor, Health, and Women, is an unusually strong political presence in the east. Her style is very animated and confident. Both easterners speak in 148 Developing FRG Politicians a loud rush using regional dialect. Not afraid to be perceived as “typical easterners,” they are effective party operators and popular public figures. Such outspokenness and independence (within parameters of parliamen- tary politics) is unusual in the new state parliaments. Most parliamentarians in this category are found outside mainstream parties. Though the PDs certainly does not openly reject the current politi- cal order—in fact, it works effectively within the transferred structures—it does not accept all aspects of the new system and culture unconditionally or uncritically. The PDs is carving out a niche for itself as the only authen- tic eastern voice and as an advocate for eastern interests. Efforts by the established political parties to stigmatize the PDS, going as far as refusing to engage in discussion with the PDS, may have the unintended effect of making the PDs appear oppressed and heroic and thus more popular. The more conformist the other parties in the east are to western patterns, the more attractive the PDs likely becomes to a segment of the eastern German constituency. Ironically, the successor to the SED, which held a one-party monopoly for four decades, today prides itself on being the party that least stresses party discipline, where members of the Fraktion are freest to express inde- pendent positions. There are also a number of non-PDS members in the parliamentary Fraktionen who maintain very independent voices and po- litical styles. There are a handful of maverick politicians in the other parties who are critical of the partisan style of politics that has proliferated since 1990. The most notable nonconformist in the Brandenburg Landtag is Peter Michael Diestel, outspoken member of the CDU. He is both respected by his peers for his independence and annoying to his fellow CDU members, who ex- pect party discipline. Though he was a member of the de Maiziere gov- ernment until unification, it is unlikely that someone as outspoken and independent as Diestel would rise to become a key figure in politics in unified Germany. : Withdrawal The number of eastern Germans who have left the political elite is impos- sible to calculate. There are numerous reasons why political actors have withdrawn. As already mentioned, 6 percent of the parliamentarians in the east had to leave office after their past political connections were re- vealed. A number of elected officials have become frustrated with the lack of autonomy in politics, even at the state level. Some have decided to 149 become involved in local politics, where they believe they can have more contact with the people and more input in shaping the political agenda and in addressing the interest of easterners. Finally, anumber of new elites could not cope in the new environment. Despondent, indeed kaputt, they have withdrawn from politics completely. Conclusion The parliamentarians in the three states considered here reported several interesting experiences with the imported patterns of partisan political behavior and party pressure, or discipline. A number of elites said that at first they felt awkward in the formal parliamentary environment and, par- ticularly, within the parliamentary parties themselves. The imported style of politics ran counter to the initial nonpartisan spirit of solidarity in the new parliaments reported by many legislators. In Brandenburg in particu- lar, members of the governing parties and the opposition reportedly ini- tially worked together in plenary sessions and parliamentary committees and were not opposed to accepting ideas from parties on the “other side of the aisle.” They were motivated not by typically partisan goals, but by a desire for political renewal for the good of the people. The nonpartisan- ship was initially characteristic of the eastern parliaments, since most members were new to political office and the many tasks of reconstruction necessitated some degree of “solidarity.” Interviewees cited an emphasis on “expertise” and noted that the magnitude of the reconstruction tasks required cooperation as well as tolerance of other viewpoints and ideas. The political environment, or what we might call the “coalition arithme- tic,” of each state likely affected the extent and duration of the “spirit of solidarity” in each case. In Brandenburg, for example, there was consider- able agreement among members of the five political parties represented in parliament in the first legislative period that the three-way coalition in that state helped “train” new parliamentarians in these virtues. Part of the Brandenburg style may have also been a greater willingness to work with the pps. There are several possible reasons for this tolerance and willing- ness to cooperate with former communists for the good of all Branden- burgers. As the state surrounding the city of Berlin, Brandenburg is home to many of the old GDR elite. The capital city, Potsdam, was home to the academy where cadres were trained before 1990. Also, as the only spp-led government in the new states, the Brandenburg parliamentarians may be more accepting of socialist positions. Finally, the pps held thirteen out of eighty-eight seats in the parliament and, as such, was a force to be reck- 150 Developing FRG Politicians oned with. In addition to the initial spirit of cooperation, behaviors that ” 6 interviewees described as “positioning,” “profiling,” and “profiteering” were reportedly not as evident in the early stages of parliamentary rela- tions. However, the interlude of nonpartisan cooperation in Brandenburg came to an end as the pioneer spirit was replaced by reelection concerns (what some would describe as a “normal” situation in the west). By 1994, party discipline had become part and parcel of the transferred political system; in the eastern states today, parliamentarism, with its divi- sion between governing and opposition roles, clearly has been adopted. This development draws some criticism, however, mainly from the PDs. According to one member of this party, “[T]he solidarity is gone because people [in the Landtag] don’t trust each other. . . . [T]hey fear they won’t be reelected or it- will harm their own position . . . [and] if they trust one another then party-central complains” (interview, Potsdam, March 1994). This politician said he could foresee a loss of support for the established parties, “if they continue to operate in that [western] way.” This sentiment was articulated by the PDs in its election campaigns and struck a chord for some voters in the 1993—94 state and federal elections. Relative to the first all-German elections in 1990, the PDs gained support in every eastern state in the “Super Election Year,” 1994, while the established parties lost sup- port. An analysis of the 1994 elections follows in chapter 6. Frustration with aspects of the imported political style was echoed by another eastern parliamentarian who compared the current political situa- tion to the “double-life in the GDR.” In the communist era, the gap be- tween reality and official rhetoric was so great that people felt helpless and alienated from the political system. In describing the problem she says, “I once again have the feeling that there are two worlds: on one side is reality, people with real-life concerns, such as unemployment, housing, the fact that many people over fifty and also women will never work again . . . while on the other side there are the big political parties who, with their slogans, are not in tune with the lives of average people here” (interview with pps legislator, Potsdam, March 1994). By the end of the first legislative period, the formal-institutional trans- formation had largely come to an end in the state legislatures. The process of learning the new laws, parliamentary procedures, and political party discipline was over. In a relatively short time, the institutional aspect of democracy in the formerly communist east resembled the west. With ex- perience, the new elites became more hardened to realities of partisan politics. According to the standards of the western transplanted system, “normalization” has occurred. 151 Having learned the ropes, the eastern elites also became more self- confident as leaders. Through their committee work especially, they re- ported feeling more knowledgeable and competent in particular policy fields. Many found their own policy niche(s) and felt less need to rely on the expertise of western advisors.*” During the initial period of transition, characterized by the transplant of new norms and procedures, as well as guidance from westerners, the west- ern managers and assistants were welcomed by most eastern parliamen- tarians or at least accepted as a necessary—albeit temporary—part of the transition to FRG democracy. The presence of western advisors has had a profound impact on the development of postcommunist elites. The inex- perience of eastern parliamentarians with the new system was offset by the availability of a “big brother” from the west. While the eastern parlia- mentarians were simultaneously learning the new rules and procedures of FRG representative democracy and passing an incredible amount of start- up legislation (averaging about two hundred laws in each state legislature between 1990 and 1994), this western assistance was gratefully accepted. Most interviewees in 1993-94 voiced the preference that this situation would only be temporary—that eastern personnel would take over these positions once the transition was over. In the second legislative period, however, many western imports remained. Most legislative assistants are still from the west (now even the PDs has a few western assistants). Many eastern parliamentarians dismissed the relevance of where personnel came from but added, “It would have been nice to have Ossis in those positions.” A few even admitted that they preferred contact with eastern colleagues over western ones. The dependency of eastern Germans on their western cousins remains one of the most sensitive dimensions of the transplant of democracy. For some eastern Germans, the terms “colonization” and “annexation” de- scribe the unification process. The German term Leihelite, elites on loan, characterizes even official political speech. The discourse of democratiza- tion in this case reveals much about the challenges of elite building and integration in the east. Though colonization has not been physical, indeed the GDR willingly acceded to the West German state, to some extent it has been psychological, with serious consequences for the development of political self-confidence and competence. The very act of transferring elites from the west implied a lack of faith in the competence of indige- nous personnel. The guardian-charge relationship between western and eastern elites may have facilitated a smooth institutional transition, but there may also have been negative consequences, which will be more 152 Developing FRG Politicians difficult to detect and address. It is possible that the German approach has resulted in the slower and less complete development of indigenous elites. At the very least, it has resulted in political estrangement. While it is important to realize that the process of elite building is still occurring, there is evidence that indicates eastern elites have adopted many of the patterns of behavior congruent with the transplanted western institutions. This is not particularly surprising, since the mode of transi- tion has fostered assimilation to the dominant western elite culture and political style. The transplant of the western institutional framework, es- pecially the political party system, has not encouraged modifications to the system or to the character of political leadership. Rather, eastern elites are expected to fit into the mold of West German representative-parlia- mentary democracy. Elite building, like the reconstruction of the political system in general, is to be characterized by emulation or assimilation rather than adaptation or innovation. Elite conformity in terms of political behavior, or style, does not neces- sarily reflect the internalization of the transferred western norms and values. While it is difficult to empirically investigate, it is possible that, in the interest of expediency, some new political elites chose conformity, in some Cases even overcompensating for a lack of experience in their politi- cal roles. Though the term “mimicry” is a strong one, it clearly conveys the idea that what appears to be integration may actually be assimilation. On the other hand, this study has illuminated ways in which there persists a dissonance between the formal requirements of the new politi- cal system and the old patterns of political thinking and behavior. This dissonance between push and pull factors has led to confusion and prob- lems in elite development. Exogenously managed elite building, however, has begun to achieve its goal: with time and experience, eastern elites have become more politi- cally and managerially competent. Consequently, they have become more confident in their leadership capabilities. This more “professional” indig- enous elite is likely to be more self-reliant, that is, less dependent on the cues of western personnel. In the future, eastern elites may be less will- ing to accept “politics as usual” and may no longer simply carry out direc- tives of western imports. As one interviewee suggested, eastern elites are gaining “consumer experience” (FDP legislator, Potsdam, April 1994). With this experience, they are adopting an increasingly discerning view of west- ern German ideas and proposals. The professionalization of the eastern elite according to western patterns, however, does not necessarily lead to the inclusion of easterners in the leadership circles of unified Germany. 153 Very few easterners are in positions of significant political power and responsibility in the Bundestag, in the federal cabinet, or in national party organizations. In conclusion, horizontal “integration” is not the same as societal inte- gration. The latter process entails the development of public support for the institutions and practices of the transferred political system. While the eastern elite has largely been assimilated into the new system, there re- main significant segments of eastern society that are not yet convinced of the merits of the new political order. There is a societal Jag, in that many eastern Germans perceive they have been left behind and on the margins of directed democratization, identifying with neither the present nor the past cultures and identities. For many non-elites in the east, “catching up” to the west may take much longer. | Om 6 Elites and the Masses in Postcommunist Germany: Vertical Integration The initial preoccupation with institutional harmonization had the effect of extinguishing indigenous elite input in the determination of the pace, form, and content of political reconstruction in the east. As we have seen, the transplant of the FRG institutions to the east occurred swiftly with lit- tle preparation and no modification for local circumstances. Moreover, the exogenously managed processes of institution building and elite building, and the concomitant pressure for assimilation to western patterns of polit- ical leadership, affect the performance of elite functions, especially the development of linkages between political elites and the mass public in the east. The development of elite-mass linkages, or vertical integration, is critical for democratic consolidation, in particular in the aftermath of state socialism. The significance of vertical integration extends beyond the five “new” states and into the realm of societal integration, or German domes- tic unity. If vertical integration does not occur, if significant segments of the eastern public are badly integrated into the new system, then the sta- bility of the FRG democracy may be threatened. One recent reminder of how poorly some members of the eastern public are integrated was the April 26, 1998, state parliamentary election in Sachsen-Anhalt, when the far-right Deutsche Volksunion (DVU) won 13.2 percent of the vote. Horizontal and vertical integration are not mutually exclusive. The con- solidation of democracy requires a delicate balance of these two processes. While the aim of horizontal integration was to create consensus about system norms and procedures on the west-east plane, the aim of vertical integration is to create and nurture the popular acceptance of the political 156 Elites and the Masses system and to mobilize the public to act in ways that support the system. Vertical integration focuses our attention on system legitimation, and le- gitimacy entails commitment to the political system, its norms, and pro- cedures. It requires that trust and confidence in the system be deep and slow to change and not contingent on some kind of benefit or reward derived from policy effectiveness or performance.’ The development of a normative commitment on the part of citizens to a political regime is particularly important in the eastern German context, where the transition to democracy has been largely exogenously managed. Considering the dif- ferent political cultures that developed in the two parts of Germany, can we assume that the norms and behaviors associated with the western po- litical system inspire democratic confidence and eagerness to participate in the east? System Legitimacy: A Look at Available Evidence In the early stages of the transition in the east, there appeared to be a great deal of popular support for the new system. It is likely that the stabil- ity and certainty offered by the transfer of fixed routines and structures backed up by western personnel and financial support significantly con- tributed to a degree of what may be called passive support, or toleration. At the very least, the absence of political and social unrest in the months before formal unification suggested passive support for the new system. Apparently, support for the new system was also active, based on an un- derlying belief that the system is positive and favored over others. Active support was suggested by the high voter turnout and the election victory for the cbU-backed Alliance for Germany in March 1990, which signaled a desire for swift unification with the west. There have been signs of an erosion of this passive toleration for aspects of the new system. In 1991, easterners in Leipzig revived the Monday night demonstrations from the autumn of 1989 to protest what they perceived to be unfair policies and treatment by the federal government. The protestors shouted, “We won’t be second-class citizens,” a slogan that found reso- nance among many disaffected easterners. The most troubling example of erosion was the outbreak of xenophobic violence in the east (and in the west), in particular in 1991-92. It may be that the frustration and aliena- tion that arose from the hardships and uncertainties of the transition were turned outward onto minority groups in eastern society, namely foreign workers and asylum seekers.” In far less violent ways, most disgruntled easterners demonstrated frustration with particular policies that guided the transition and seemed to disproportionately serve western business 157 interests at the expense of eastern social and economic interests. There were numerous strikes in protest of particular policies and methods of economic reconstruction, especially the deindustrialization of the east and the lag in east German wages (which are presently 80 percent of west German wages). The policies of the agency charged with privatizing the state-owned enterprises of the GDR, the Treuhand Anstalt, in particular the plant closures and massive layoffs in the east, have defined—both symbolically and practically—relations between the east and west. While many western businesses have profited from the restructuring of the east’s economy, easterners have been the objects, rather than subjects, of Treu- hand decisions. There are other signs that the initial enthusiasm for the FRG system has begun to wane in the east. Data gathered by several public opinion re- search organizations in Germany point to a clear decline in the eastern public’s attitudes toward political democracy.’ In 1990, almost 80 percent of eastern respondents agreed with the abstract statement “Democracy is the best form of government” and over 40 percent considered the specific form of democracy “that we have in the Federal Republic” the best form of government or state.* A year later, the “abstract” support for democ- racy dropped to 70 percent and the specific support for the FRG system dropped to 31 percent. Among western respondents, the figures for ab- stract (86 percent) and specific (80 percent) remained steady. Whereas 19 percent of eastern respondents said there was a better form of government when polled in November 1990, the figure had risen to 28 percent by 1994.° Moreover, only 19 percent of those eastern Germans polled ex- pected an improvement in the development of democracy (Demokratie- entwicklung), compared to 63 percent in 1990; 25 percent expected a worsening of the situation (8 percent in 1990); and 46 percent expected no change (10 percent in 1990).° In addition to support for the system in general, there are other various “objects” of legitimacy to consider. Opinion data since unification show that trust in institutions did not increase in the east between 1991 and 1992 (see table 6.1). Relative to western levels of support for democratic institutions, there is less trust among the eastern public. This relative lack of trust itself is not surprising, considering that easterners have had less experience with the new system. What is significant, however, is the over- all persistence of relatively low trust values for FRG institutions.” More- over, other polling data presented by Derlien demonstrates that trust in institutions in the east between 1991 and 1993 actually decreased.* This situation may seem counterintuitive, since with time as well as familiarity with the FRG institutions, one would expect trust to increase. Perhaps the 158 Elites and the Masses Table 6.1 Trust in Institutions in Eastern and Western Germany, 1991 and 1992 Western Germany Eastern Germany Institution 1991 1992 1991 1992 Federal Constitutional Court 25 2.4 aa 4.2 Bundestag 5 0.7 0.5 S107 Bundesrat EZ, 1-2 1 0.6 Federal Government 1.0 0.2 0.4 —0.4 State Government 1.4 1.0 0.7 0.3 Courts 2, 1.9 0.1 0.9 Press 0.5 0.5 0.5 0,5 Parties na O92 na —0.9 Source: Institut fiir praxisorientierte Sozialforschung in Mannheim, reported in Wochenschau, December 1993, p. 26. Note: Figures shown are averages, on a scale of +5, great amount of trust, to —5, very little trust. most glaring (and most aggravating for the established political parties) indication that a growing number of eastern Germans are dissatisfied with “politics as usual” in the FRG are the voting patterns since unification. Specifically, the electoral successes of the PDS since 1994 can be in- terpreted as a protest against western-dominated politics, as well as a fail- ure of transplanted patterns of elite-mass relations to integrate eastern Germans. The evidence suggests that, several years after accession, the new sys- tem is not yet firmly rooted in the east; that the dissonance between the transplanted institutions and the indigenous culture results in a “societal lag,” whereby the eastern public is not adequately integrated into the new political system. In other words, there is a legitimacy “deficit” in the east, and there can be no consolidation of democracy if a societal lag or legit- imacy deficit persists. It is possible that with time, perhaps a couple of generations, the societal lag will diminish. In the shorter term, however, the societal lag makes the role of parliamentarians even more critical. Whether the eastern elites respond to this societal gap, and how they respond, will have important implications for creating system legitimacy and for integrating the eastern public into the new political system. In order to encourage identification with the FRG system, new democratic elites may find it necessary to make modifications to the transplanted norms and routines or to alter their approach to representing and mobiliz- ing the public. At minimum, the new parliamentary elites in the east must perform a dual integration function; that is, link the public to the political system and bridge the political cultural gap between the east and west. 159 The work of Heinrich Oberreuter suggests how parliamentarians fulfill these functions. He writes, “The mp [member of parliament] has the task of participating as an individual in parliament’s public relations work, which serves the ongoing need to democratically legitimize state action through communication with the public.”? According to Oberreuter, the parliamentarian’s role has two aspects: “articulating the political will of the people, receiving information and processing it” and “personally help- ing to form it by giving a political lead, i.e. engaging actively and in inno- vative ways in discussion, the formulation of forward-looking political concepts, information, explanation.”!° Put somewhat differently, the in- teraction between parliamentarians and their publics may be viewed as two-way communication and activity. On one hand, the flow of communi- cations and activity is top-down; representatives pass on political infor- mation, demonstrate regime norms, and attempt to convince segments of the mass public to act (or not act) in certain ways, or at least to support particular ideas, policies, and candidates. These political leadership tasks create public confidence in the parliamentarian, her party, in politicians as a Class, and in “the concepts of political action behind the individuals” (ibid., 417). Parliamentarians interact with constituents through channels such as the media, political parties, interest groups, citizens’ initiatives, and industrial, commercial, employer, and employee associations. Elites also interact directly with citizens, usually in the “home” political district. Communication and mobilization also take place from the bottom up, from citizens to representatives. This aspect of vertical integration entails elite accountability and responsiveness and is essential for modern de- mocracies. Through the above-mentioned channels, constituents pass on information and articulate their demands and concerns (their “interests”) to the elite. The duty of the parliamentarian is to articulate those interests and demands in the political institutions. Depending on the political system and culture, the emphasis may be more or less on one of the directions of elite-mass communication. We can differentiate between “elite-directed” (more top-down) or “elite-directing” (more bottom-up) politics. In other words, the public may be either rela- tively inactive or active in influencing the behavior of elites. The emphasis on institutionalization and civic demobilization after the revolution of 1989 led some participants as well as observers, like Jirgen Habermas, to speak of a “democracy deficit” in the unification of Germany." This cri- tique refers to the lack of citizen participation in the process of democrati- zation. Recall that the transferred political system emphasizes representa- tive, rather than participatory, democracy, and the mode of democratic 160 Elites and the Masses transition since 1990 has been elite-directed, or top-down. It is reasonable to suggest that the combination of eastern Germans’ lack of familiarity with the imported system, the experience of dislocation and uncertainty in the transition, and the preoccupation with daily problems, created an environ- ment ripe for elite-directed politics. It might also be said that the GDR political culture left a legacy of “output-oriented” politics, and, therefore, eastern Germans may be accus- tomed to a top-down flow of politics and a guardian-charge relationship between elites and the public—contingent on satisfactory policy outputs. The state socialist system, with its highly centralized and hierarchical institutions, attempted to mobilize citizens from above. Such patterns of elite-mass relations, however, are not likely to create and nurture confident citizens who identify with and actively support the democratic system. Moreover, political participation in the old system was ritualistic and com- pulsory. As aresult, many people were repelled by politics and chose not to participate. In the new system, where the political opportunity structure is more varied and less centralized, people in the east still appear loath to participate in politics in conventional ways—namely, by joining political parties and other intermediary organizations. One reason for this may be the complexity of the transition context and the preoccupation with ad- justing to changes in the personal, everyday sphere. Another reason is, where the norms and routines are transplanted, it may be difficult for peo- ple to identify with them, to believe the norms and routines address their interests. Moreover, people may not feel they have a stake in the system— that they are participants in the new system, rather than merely objects. The public’s assessment of the political system may be determined by more than “outputs” in terms of material gains and political policies that benefit the group; it also may have a qualitative dimension that is significant to system legitimacy. This latter dimension is more difficult to measure and entails such “subjective” determinations as political inputs, influence, and inclusion, that is, ideas, negotiating power, and equal status with west- erners as partners. In this case of directed democratization and elite build- ing, self-reliance, autonomy, and independence become criteria by which the new system is evaluated by the public. The less autonomous the de- mocratization process, the more difficult it may be to create legitimacy. Dimensions of the Vertical Integration Process: Representation and Participation Political mobilization is the process whereby individuals are incorporated into networks that involve them either directly (participation) or indi- 161 rectly (representation).'? Commitment to the political system is fostered by the development of linkages between the political elite and the mass public that relate both groups to the pursuit of political goals.1* The dis- cussion that follows more closely examines the representation and partici- pation dimensions of elite-mass linkages in eastern Germany since 1990. Representation can take several forms, depending on what aspect of elite-mass relations is stressed.'* For example, social representation en- tails the degree of openness or exclusion of the political recruitment pro- cess. In other words, this type of representation considers how closely the elites reflect the demographic profile and social networks of society. To illustrate this idea, consider a comparison between the GDR elites and the postcommunist eastern elites. Relative to the GDR elites in the 1980s, the democratically elected Volkskammer of 1990 and the current elites in the east have very different backgrounds. Since in the GDR elite recruit- ment was highly systematic according to a nomenklatura system and the cadre policy of the SED, the old system was very hierarchical, with a fairly small and homogeneous core of elites. Most new elites are from “every- day” backgrounds rather than from special party schools and other organi- zations of the privileged cadre class. The postcommunist political leader- ship comprises many newcomers to political office and, in this respect, is more representative socially of the mass public than either the old com- munist elite or the revolutionary/intellectual elite of the interim period. Moreover, in terms of age and gender, the postcommunist political elite is more representative of the eastern society. A second category of representation is ideological, or issue, representa- tion. This may include the congruence between elite and mass orienta- tions regarding democracy, system reform, or particular sets of issues, especially pertaining to “New Politics” and “Old Politics” issues. A survey of 554 eastern Germans conducted by the Institut fiir Demoskopie, an opinion research organization in Allensbach, in July 1993 found that 20 percent of the respondents said they thought freedom and justice were equally important but if they had to choose between the two, they would say personal freedom is more important; 67 percent, however, said they would choose as much justice as possible. (These percentages compare to 38 percent and 45 percent respectively for the western sample.)!° In a similarly worded question, 36 percent of the easterners polled said per- sonal freedom is more important than equality, while 51 percent said as much equality as possible is more important.'*° Compared with the find- ings of the study of Berlin parliamentarians cited in the previous chapter, it can be said that elite orientations to democracy are close to those of the eastern mass public in that they clearly favor a social-egalitarian vision of 162 Elites and the Masses democracy. Relative to western Germans, both the elite and the mass pub- lic in the east stress collectivist rather than individualist values, which in turn shape their vision of democracy.’” According to Politbarometer survey data from December 1992, the most important concerns of easterners were unemployment (54 percent), the asylum issue/foreigners (29 percent), right-wing radicalism (23 percent), the “upswing east”/economy (18 percent), and problems of unity (12 per- cent). In the western sample, the asylum issue ranked highest (67 percent), followed by right-wing radicalism (23 percent), unemployment (16 per- cent), and problems of unity (13 percent).'* Indeed, the interview study conducted in Brandenburg in 1993—94 revealed a great deal of issue repre- sentation in the parliament. Overwhelmingly, respondents reported that the most important political tasks were in the economic realm, specifi- cally ranking “more jobs” as the number one priority (61 percent), fol- lowed by “creating a market economy” (11 percent) and “securing the social net” (6 percent). For both eastern elites and nonelites, employment and economic security, or Old Politics issues, are of greatest concern.1? The parliamentarians in the “new” eastern states operate in very dif- ferent political, economic, and sociocultural environments than those in the “old” western states. Also, the new elites bring with them an entirely different set of political socialization experiences. By virtue of the trans- formation under way in the eastern Ldnder, the political interests, con- cerns, and expectations of the mass public also differ from those of the western polity. Therefore, the circumstances of postcommunist transfor- mation present eastern elites with particular challenges and priorities. Particular regional concerns often revolve around the uncertainties of the transition period, especially concerning job insecurity in the reconstruc- tion of the economy and the problems of adapting to new political and social arrangements. Although citizens of the old states may decry the rise in their taxes to support the development of the east, the day-to-day socioeconomic and psychocultural impacts of unification are far less than in the east. Despite the tremendous amount of financial transfers from west to east (over $650 billion in the first four years since unification), much of the east has experienced deindustrialization rather than reindustrialization. Unem- ployment in the east has been two to three times higher than in the west. The privatization of east German industry and the decollectivization of agriculture have produced a uniquely eastern set of political problems— problems whose psychocultural impacts are not always recognized by the western party programs, the political establishment in Bonn, or the stan- 163 dard policy prescriptions. The perception that these eastern interests are not addressed by the “political establishment” has exacerbated a culture of distrust left over from the previous system. Socioeconomic dislocation and hardship have translated into voting patterns. In 1994, eastern Ger- mans “punished” the western parties for the disappointing socioeconomic climate since unification and gave the reconstructed communist party, the PDS, 20 percent of their votes in the Bundestag election. Joblessness and investment in the local economy were the overriding concerns of every parliamentarian in the east, especially in the 1998 election year. The im- portance of work and jobs cannot be overstated. For people socialized in a “workers’ and peasants’ state,” work was a source of orientation in life. Eastern elites know this and recognize the frustration and anomie of many people as a response to the huge changes in people’s daily lives. Most eastern politicians, therefore, do not belittle the eastern public for having little interest in politics or trust in political leaders. The parliamentarians recognize that it will take generations to fully recover from such an ordeal. Many claim, moreover, that westerners, especially the politicians in Bonn, have no idea about what is really happening in the east, particularly on an emotional, or sociocultural level of transformation. It is important to return here to the point that east German transition experiences have varied from region to region. Prior to unification, there existed important divisions in the GDR that carry over to some degree in the new system. A north-south division was evident in the GDR, with a less industrial, less prosperous north and a more industrial and pros- perous south. In addition, there was a strong center-periphery dimension in the GDR, with the capital, East Berlin, at the center. In the transition toa market economy, the industrial south, particularly the state of Sachsen, has fared somewhat better than the less industrial north. These differences tend to impact attitudes about the transition, as well as people’s decisions about leaving or staying in a particular region. Moreover, each Land has a unique constellation of geographic, eco- nomic, and political factors that affects its transition experiences and, perhaps, the ways in which the issues and potential solutions are formu- lated. For example, the close relation of the eastern state of Brandenburg to Berlin (it surrounds Berlin) has far-reaching implications for Brandenburg politics. Since Berlin is now the German capital and a major European center, the tremendous investment in Berlin also creates a Speckgurtel, or spillover area of prosperity, for the Brandenburg communities nearest to Berlin. Those Brandenburgers on the peripheries, however, do not reap the same socioeconomic benefits. In response, politicians in the state capital, 164 Elites and the Masses Potsdam, tout a development strategy called “decentralized concentra- tion.” This oxymoronic term suggests an attempt to channel economic investment to the periphery areas of Brandenburg. The close relation to Berlin shapes Brandenburg politics in other com- plex ways, for instance, by shaping interpretations and attitudes about economic recovery. In a 1996 survey of eastern German cities, the resi- dents of the city of Cottbus (in eastern Brandenburg, not far from the Polish border), where relatively less has changed than in other east German cities, were significantly more satisfied with their situations than resi- dents in Potsdam, a relatively well-off city, near Berlin and teeming with Western shops, restaurants, and people. As Potsdam politician Detlef Ka- minski put it, “The mistake of the Potsdamers is that they compare them- selves with Wannsee [a ritzy West Berlin suburb] rather than with Rostock [a poorer city in the northern part of Eastern Germany].””° The proximity to Berlin (for all intents and purposes, a western-dominated metropolis) distorts expectations about the economic transformation and increases the sensitivity of Brandenburgers to western domination. The situation in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern shapes the political agenda in somewhat different ways. Meck]enburg-Vorpommern is an agricultural region in the north. During the communist era, the districts (Bezirke) that made up what is now Mecklenburg-Vorpommern were home to many large collective farms. In many villages, they were the largest employers, provid- ing people with a network of social and cultural activities and ties. In recent years, the attempts to change the laws affecting the large farms and land ownership have framed political debates about the economic transi- tion in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. Legislators in the capital, Schwerin, are painfully aware that their farmers must now compete with other Ger- man and European farmers and that they are losing subsidies quickly. As a coastal region, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern’s other industries are ship- building and fishing. The loss of subsidies in these industries further con- tributes to economic insecurity in the Land and shapes the political de- bate. A related concern is the lack of employment opportunities and university places for young people. More than in Brandenburg or Thii- ringen, the elites in this state invariably raised the problem of the hopeless- ness and aggressivity of many young people. Indeed, the frequency of incidents of right-wing violence in the state is alarming. Despite the economic troubles of the Land, few Mecklenburg-Vorpom- meranians would be likely to support the fusion of their state with the other northern states, Schleswig-Holstein, Hamburg, Bremen, and (maybe) Niedersachsen. The concept of a Nord-Staat was rejected by the great 165 majority of parliamentarians interviewed by the author. Instead, they noted the importance of preserving regional autonomy and identity, de- spite the potential economic advantages of a larger state (with one, versus five, administrative centers). Thiiringen presents a contrast in many ways to Brandenburg and Meck- lenburg-Vorpommern. Thiiringen is a small state located in the center of the unified Germany. In terms of its economic development, “cultural tourism” and the geographic situation give the region some advantage or uniqueness. The parliamentarians generally were more accepting of, or perhaps reconciled to, the fact of western-driven economic recovery. One of the elites’ major preoccupations was the building of a modern transpor- tation infrastructure capable of handling the heavy volume of east-west and north-south traffic that passes through the state daily. The central location of Thiiringen gives it the air of a hub, where the pains of adjust- ment to a new system will pass relatively quickly and where “east” and “west” and “new” and “old” will more easily fade into merely “German.” The findings presented here lend support to the notion that the eastern parliamentarians are representative in terms of social background, beliefs, and concerns about specific issues. However, social, value, and issue rep- resentation do not necessarily translate to the aggregation of these com- mon interests in the transferred institutions. It is conceivable, and in this case of directed democratization not surprising, that indigenous interests often do not end up on the political agenda. This process of translating interests into political “inputs” and “outputs” is complicated by the shal- low roots of the intermediary organizations in the east. In particular, the weakness of the political parties in the east does not help to close the gap between the political system and its representatives (elites), on one hand, and the public on the other. According to a study of eastern German politi- cal attitudes conducted by Infratest Burke, easterners “complained of too few possibilities to participate in socio-political activities and too little personal appeal through the political parties [Ansprache durch die Par- teien]. The form of political address practiced so far by the parties in eastern Germany, as well as their offerings of political participation, meet only a small degree of citizens’ expectations and needs.”*1 Representative democracy relies on political parties and other interest groups to be the mobilizing mechanisms in the system—to act as the afore- mentioned two-way communication channels. In the political system of the Federal Republic, parties, especially the large catch-all parties, the CDU and SPD, are the central mechanisms for vertical integration. Moreover, the political parties are key vehicles for elite recruitment, socialization, and 166 Elites and the Masses Table 6.2 Comparison of Party Leadership Positions of Eastern and Western German Legislators, 1991-1992 and 1994 Party position and level East 1991-92 East 1994 West 1994 Total positions 62.8 68.1 74.5 Local (Ort) 2.6 22.6 37.1 County (Kreis) 28.8 BB 57.5 District (Bezirk) 2.6 6.7 31.0 State (Land) 20.4 29.4 20.8 National (Bund) 4.2 3.4 4.3 Source: Adapted from Werner J. Patzelt, “Die gesellschafliche Vernetzung ostdeutscher Parla- mentarier,” Historical Social Research, vol. 20, no. 4 (1995), 87-122, at 97. Note: Percentage of respondents holding party leadership roles per category. political advancement, as well as an essential arena for aggregating soci- etal interests and for citizen participation. Compared to western parliamentarians, the eastern elites have looser ties to their parties. In particular, easterners hold fewer “functions,” or party organizational leadership positions at the various levels of politics. In 1994, Patzelt found that on average, 68.1 percent of the easterners in his sample held a party function, compared to an average of 74.5 percent of the western parliamentarians he polled. For both eastern and western respon- dents, party functions at the Kreis-level (similar to county) was the most common, with an average of 53.2 for the easterners and 57.5 for the west- erners.** Compared to 1991—92, however, party leadership roles among eastern parliamentarians in 1994 increased at all levels except the national level (see table 6.2). As Patzelt explains, the relative lack of competition for party leadership roles in the east accounts for the sharp increase there, in particular at the state level of party organization.** In general, “East Germany’s legislators still hold fewer societal roles and communal mandates; party bases, associations, and prepolitical spaces are still less developed and with respect to elite-mass communication are less productive for the legislators; and for all of these things, easterners still report they have less time than their western colleagues.”** The Pots- dam Elite Study also found some interesting differences between eastern and western elite patterns of contact with various organizations and in- stitutions. As table 6.3 illustrates, there are some interesting east-west differences within the two catch-all parties, SPD and CDU. Not surprisingly, the institutional linkages and associational member- ships among non-elites are far weaker. Since political parties are prime vehicles for interest aggregation and citizen participation, it is necessary to 167 examine how effectively these institutions have linked the postcommu- nist parliamentarians with their constituencies. More systematic analyses of the political parties and party system in the east have been done else- where.” The aim here is to briefly examine the political party identity and mobilization strategies of the major parties in the FRG today and to assess their effectiveness at furthering the process of vertical integration. In 1990, when the western parties entered the eastern political vacuum, the inflow of western party resources made it difficult for indigenous pref- erences to be heard. The merger of eastern and western parties made it even more difficult for eastern parties to nurture their own identities based on constituent interests. Eastern party members were expected to embrace ready-made organizational cultures and party programs. Many members of the emerging new political elite were quick to embrace the new institu- tions and new political identity, resulting in swift assimilation, if not true integration. Whereas elites have regular and intensive contact with the new institu- tions and are profoundly influenced by party identification, the dynamic is different for non-elites. Significant segments of the eastern public re- main outside of the democratic process in terms of levels of system trust and political participation. As primary vehicles for aggregating societal interests and for citizen participation, political parties are crucial for verti- cal integration. It is important, therefore, to evaluate how well the political parties have facilitated elite-mass integration in the east. For example, we might consider levels of party identification and membership. As we shall see below, judging from elections since 1990, the mainstream parties’ pro- Table 6.3 Legislators in Eastern and Western Germany in 1995 with Institutional Contacts, by Party (percentage) Social Democrats Christian Democrats Contacts West East West East International Insts. 61 43 62 42 Admin. Insts. 70 45 69 64 Business 67 38 53 67 Associations 82 75 79 86 Media 95 89 93 94 Unions 86 87 54 64 Higher Ed. Insts. 71 51 64 67 Cultural Insts. 45 34 36 44 Source: Wilhelm Biirklin et al., eds., Eliten in Deutschland: Rekrutierung und Integration (Opladen: Leske and Budrich, 1997). 168 Elites and the Masses grams may not have adequately addressed many important daily needs and concerns of east Germans. To facilitate vertical integration, we might expect elites to either modify elements of the party platforms or dimen- sions of the party’s mobilization strategies. Certainly there is a distinction between the elites whose primary responsibilities are the party platform and mobilization strategy and those who represent constituents and de- cide upon legislation. While our interest is decidedly on the latter, on parliamentary elites, it is nonetheless crucial to examine the parties, as these institutions link parliamentarians and constituents through the bal- lot box, in the parliamentary Fraktionen, and in the home district, where the parliamentarian is not only a representative of her constituency but also of her party. Linking the Eastern Public with the New System: The Political Identity of the Parties Christian Democratic Union (Christlich Demokratische Union, CDU) Despite the taint of its former bloc party status, the CDU quickly emerged as the most powerful force in electoral politics in the east. Confidence in 1990 in the economic competence of the CDU and of then chancellor Kohl has translated favorably for the CDU in electoral contests. Considering that the CDU is to the right of the spD on the political spectrum and generally a party of employers rather than workers, one might expect that in the east, with so many unemployed workers and lacking a strong middle class or business class, there would be relatively more support for the Social Dem- ocratic Party than for a conservative Christian Democratic Party. However, in the 1990 elections, the traditional base of the spp, the working class, overwhelmingly voted for the CDU over the SPD in the east by a margin of two to one (see table 6.4). The traditional voter base of the CDU, the middle class and those with business interests, is relatively small in the east, while the economically burdened class—the unemployed in particular—is very large. To what extent have the particular social, economic, and politi- cal interests of the region affected the ideological cast of the eastern CDU? Initially, the CDU in the east made little effort to articulate particular eastern interests or to appeal to particular problems easterners might face in the transition to the transplanted system. This reflected a great deal of confidence in the legitimacy of the party, derived from its western affili- ation and from being the party of the unity chancellor, Helmut Kohl. As 169 Table 6.4 Class Voting by Party in Western and Eastern Germany, 1990 (percentage of class) CDU SPD FDP Greens PDS West East West East West East West East West East Manual workers 39 50 47 25 6 ial 3 5 0 5 White-collar workers 43 37 36 29 12 15 5 10 0 10 High-level white-collar 47 34 32 24 13 19 6 6 0 13 workers, civil servants Self-employed 57 50 18 16 18 22 5 5 0 5 Students 32 18 34 23 12 12 WZ. 25 1 16 Source: W. G. Gibowski and M. Kasse, “Auf dem Weg zum Politischen Alltag: Eine Analyse der ersten gesamtdeutschen Bundestagwahl,” Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, nos. 11—12 (1991), 1-20. Cited in Stephen Padgett, ed., Parties and Party Systems in the New Germany (Aldershot, England: Dartmouth, 1993). Note: cbu = Christian Democrats, SPD = Social Democrats, FDP = Free Democrats, PDS = Party of Democratic Socialism (PDs). a result, the CDU program and mobilization strategy were transplanted largely unchanged from the west. This did not change drastically in the 1994 party programs. What did begin to change, however, was the willing- ness of eastern CDU members to accept western-determined positions and strategies in their states. They still articulated themes such as economic growth and freedom of opportunity; however, they began to more freely discuss the unique social implications of unification in the east. For exam- ple, several CDU politicians interviewed in Brandenburg in the spring of 1994, several months before the 1994 elections, expressed the view that they are often more “liberal,” or at least less conservative, on many issues (particularly social issues), than their colleagues in the west. According to one PDS parliamentarian in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, “The east-CDU pol- iticians have more socially responsible ideas and positions than those in the west. They are more tied to their people” (interview, Schwerin, June 1997). This is an unusual characterization of the CDU, coming from a mem- ber of the PbS—at the other end of the political spectrum. Yet, in a society accustomed to socialist institutions and culture, including “left”-oriented positions on abortion and gender equality, the CDU may be likely to find that conservative positions have relatively less appeal in the east. The 1994 state elections were a wake-up call for some eastern CDU parlia- mentarians. The party’s share of the eastern vote in almost every state fell from 1990 levels: by 8.2 in Brandenburg, 2.7 Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, 1.5 Sachsen, 0.0 Sachsen-Anhalt, and 4.2 Thiiringen.”° In the elections, moreover, the PDS, whom the cDU had so jubilantly attacked, made sig- nificant gains. As a result, a few of the CDU parliamentarians in the new 170 Elites and the Masses states began to realize the importance of giving the CDU an eastern profile. The party in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, in particular, was concerned (rightly so) that if the PDs continued to gain support, they might be able to go into coalition with the spp. The CDU parliamentary group leader in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Eckhardt Rehberg, gained national attention as a proponent of greater Ostprofil, eastern profile. Rehberg began to pub- licly claim that easterners would no longer stand for the smear campaigns on the eastern past or for cries of victory of one side over the other. Most importantly, he began to speak of a new eastern confidence.”’ In 1996 he produced a strategy paper, “Identitatsgewinn im Aufbau Ost” (“Winning Identity in the Construction of the East”), in which he accused the Bonn party leadership of Besitzstandswahrung (protection of its ownership in- terests) and challenged the cbU leadership to rethink its tactics in the east.?® Rehberg is one of the few eastern CDU legislators to speak out pub- licly about these issues. The overwhelming majority of CDU parliamen- tarians interviewed for this study were either critical of Rehberg’s stance or evaded questions about the party’s lack of Ostprofil. In Bonn, several party leaders reacted negatively to this independence, claiming, as Wolfgang Schauble did, “Party friends in Mecklenburg want us (the CDU/CSsU) to pay more attention to the special needs of the East, but it would be ridiculous to expect the party to have different policies in the East and the West.”?° Such comments lend support to critics of the CDU who assert that it is a “chancel- lor’s party” and that its strategy for mobilizing public support has been too centralized and its politics too Bonn-driven. Social Democratic Party (Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands, SPD) Initially, the SPD also avoided crafting a particular image or party identity in the east. The disappointing election results of 1990, however, led the party to focus more specifically on the east. For instance, according to the 1994 SPD party program, it “wants to recognize the east German biography and use the east German competence . . . [and] to hear the east German ex- periences (especially of women who already had a confident, self-reliant, and independent life) from the last forty years and from the transformation process in order to undertake all-German reforms.”*° Specific regional concerns are now reflected in state party programs. For example, the Brandenburg sppD’s 1994 election program emphasized the creation of a modern economy, job creation, and reindustrialization. ” 6 Phrases such as “economic self-potential,” “regional structural policy,” 171 “structural change,” and “work instead of social assistance” give the Bran- denburg SPD party program a particularly market-oriented flavor. The focus on furthering the interests of small businesses also echoes the mid- dle- and business-class identity usually associated with the CDU or FDP in the west. Economic growth and stabilization are central to the identity of eastern Social Democrats. In this regard, a western political official work- ing in the east noted, the eastern SPD is more like the earlier West German SPD, the “Brandt spp.”*? Labor unions are traditionally an important base of support for the spp. While this is still true in the west, in the east the labor unions have not particularly warmed to the Social Democrats. Though one might think the potential for SPD support would be relatively great in the east, considering the party’s traditional focus on social welfare concerns and working-class interests, the party has relatively weak ties to the eastern working class. There may be a number of factors contributing to the lack of enthusiasm about the SPD in the region. One may be that the “socialist” association initially drove away support. Another could be a lingering memory in the east of the 1970s dialogue between the West German SPD and the SED, the ruling party of the GDR. Many eastern Germans may perceive the SPD- initiated contact to have been implicit Western support for the SED, giving the ruling party badly needed legitimacy and thus perpetuating a system of one-party rule.*” In the period leading up to unification and during the 1990 election campaign, moreover, the SPD, led by its chancellor candidate Oskar Lafontaine, preached an unpopular message of the high costs of uni- fication, turning away many easterners eager for quick prosperity through unification. Finally, some eastern German voters may perceive that the CDU is simply more capable of addressing economic issues. Brandenburg is the eastern state where the SPD has been the strongest. The personal popularity of Governor Manfred Stolpe must not be under- estimated in this regard. In the other four regions, the SPD initially was unsuccessful at winning over the public, although in 1994 it improved its position in Thiiringen and Mecklenburg-Vorpommern when it entered governing coalitions with the CDU. In 1994 in Sachsen-Anhalt, whose capi- tal is in Magdeburg, the spD and Alliance 90/Greens formed a government with the tacit acceptance of the PDs caucus in parliament. For this, the sPD in that state (and in the east in general) has received a great deal of crit- icism from the spp leadership in Bonn, not to mention providing the CDU with new ammunition to use against the SPD. Since the initial uproar over the “toleration” of the PDs in Sachsen- Anhalt, the “Magdeburger Model” has been touted as a possibility in other 172 Elites and the Masses states, namely Thtiringen and Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. The model, however, requires that the Alliance 90/Greens gain enough votes to enter a state parliament. After 1994, the Alliance 90/Greens were only present in the Sachsen-Anhalt Landtag, and in April 1998 they failed to win 5 per- cent of the Sachsen-Anhalt vote and so no longer qualified to be repre- sented in that parliament. The likelihood of being able to follow the Mag- deburger Model is thus rather small. At various times over the course of the 1994—98 legislative period, spD leaders in Thiiringen and Mecklenburg- Vorpommern have stated that a grand coalition between the SPD and CDU was not the only option for their party in the future; Harald Ringstorff, spp state chairman in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, and Richard Dewes, SPD state chairman in Thiiringen (since February 1996), both have been quoted as saying they would consider a coalition with the PDs in 1998.* Gottfried Timm, chair of the sPD parliamentary group in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, explained, “We think with the pps, the pps thinks with us.” Finally, with Oskar LaFontaine at the helm of the SPD nationally, there was a greater willingness in Bonn to grant the regional parties independence in formu- lating party identity and in contemplating new coalition models. LaFon- taine established the Forum Ostdeutschland with sPpD governor of Bran- denburg Manfred Stolpe as chairman.*° The spD remains divided on the issue of relations with the PDs and, specifically, on the issue of state-level coalitions with the pps. The divide is not simply between eastern and western party leaders; rather, it divides the party as a whole.*° There is wide agreement among analysts (as well as some fear among SPD parliamentarians interviewed for this study) that, “[w]hatever the precise shape of an alliance between the SPD and PDs, it will harm the spp and benefit the pps by enhancing its legitimacy.”°7 Free Democratic Party (Freie Demokratische Partei, FDP) The FpP election program from 1990 reflects the fundamental ideas of liberalism, focusing on individual rights, the separation of powers, and the protection of minorities. Regarding the economy in the east, the FDP pro- gram discusses the reconstruction of a competitive infrastructure, the need for fostering private investment and independent firms in the east, and the importance of guaranteeing the interests of the middle class. In general, the FDP party program reflects its traditional positions on freedom of individual choice (e.g., the abortion issue) and “equal opportunity with- out resorting to burdensome quotas and regulations.” Initial enthusiasm for the Free Democrats was largely due to the popu- 173 larity of prominent FDP politician and West German foreign minister Hans- Dietrich Genscher. After the unification period, however, the appeal of the FbP dropped significantly. The primary reason for the marginalization of the FDP in the east is the liberal party’s lack of a societal base there. Viewed as the party of “better earners” and “professionals,” few easterners relate to its programs. Membership fell sharply by 40 percent between 1991 and 1992 and by another 33 percent the following year. In the most recent state elections, the FDP has been the big loser. The loss of support was so great, that it did not pass the 5 percent hurdle in any eastern state in 1994 and thus is now absent from the eastern state legislatures. A 1995 poll in the new states found that 53 percent believe the FDP is no longer necessary in the east.** Alliance 90/Greens (Biindnis 90/Griinen) The 1990 general program of the Alliance 90/Greens states its commit- ment to an “ecological, radical-democratic and just, emancipatory and feminist, violence-free and multicultural society.” As a complement to parliamentary work, the program stresses the importance of citizen par- ticipation. Demonstrations, sit-ins, and creative extraparliamentary acti- vity are mentioned as central elements of Sich-Einmischen, or citizen in- volvement. As for the economic situation in the east, the program stresses a social and ecological approach to reconstruction. Its emphasis on the environment and other “postmaterialist” themes fails to provide much inspiration in a region grappling with economic uncertainty and the day- to-day challenges of life in anew system. The party is seen by easterners as a western party, addressing western concerns. Since the fusion of Alliance 90 with the west German Greens in 1993, the ideological identity of the party has shifted from civic to postmaterialist orientations. Moreover, the moral crusades of some of the party leaders, especially where transitional justice is concerned, may have the unintended effect of repelling easterners who prefer to forget the past. The Alliance 90/Greens in Brandenburg offers a good example. In the first legislative period, when the Alliance 90/Greens were part of a three-way coalition with the SPD and FDP, the party was led by former civic activist Ginter Nooke (who, with several other prominent Alliance 90 members, has since left the group to join the cbU). Under Nooke’s leadership, the parliamentary group was certainly one of the most vocal advocates of individually and collectively dealing with the communist and Stasi pasts. Nooke led the attack on Stolpe for alleged contacts with Stasi officials in the GDR, which caused 174 Elites and the Masses the breakdown of the three-way coalition in Brandenburg in 1994. He also was one of the most outspoken eastern politicians in his opposition to cooperating with the PDs. Because the desire to “move on” is greater than the public’s will to “sort through” the past, the Alliance 90 agenda may be even less attractive to many easterners in the mid-1990s than it was in the unification phase. In the other Landtag where the Alliance 90/Greens held seats, in Sachsen-Anhalt, the party did not lead the attack on the PDs; rather, it was part of the government that was able to form in 1994 with the “toleration” of the pps. Hans-Jochen Tschiche, a cofounder of one of the main civic groups, New Forum, in the GDR in 1989 (see Appendix C) and now chair of the Alliance 90/Greens in Sachsen-Anhalt, was one of the architects of the Magdeburger Model.*? Party of Democratic Socialism (Partei des Demokratischen Sozialismus, PDS) It is quite an ironic twist that the PDs presents itself as a more democratic and socially conscious party than the established western parties. In inter- views with PDs politicians in 1994 and 1997, this author repeatedly heard critiques of the transplanted system like the following; The current system is not responsible enough to the citizens. It is too representative and not participatory enough. . . . [T]he number of people required to qualify for plebiscitarian instruments is too high— and kept so by cbu-types. .. . A “grand coalition” such as we have in Thiiringen is dangerous. It can push everything through with little debate and little accountability and transparency. That is what is posi- tive about the Sachsen-Anhalt model: politicians must lay everything out and forge a compromise. (Erfurt, July 1997) In sharp contrast to the other parties, the identity of the PDs is clearly tied to the GDR biography and to the present regional interests of the east. Not surprisingly, the PDS party programs place a far greater emphasis on eastern interests. Since our interest here is in the role of political parties in fostering vertical integration, it is worth examining the party identity of the only truly eastern party in some detail. The PDs election program from 1990 describes the party’s identity as a “critical voice in society and parliament,” providing an alternative to the “real-existing” socialism of the East and the capitalism of the West. The party understands itself as an “anticapitalist movement with socialist 175 goals,” favoring radical democratization in companies and administrative institutions. The preamble of the Brandenburg PDs 1994 election program states its opposition role and its commitment to making the decision- making process more open, to bringing its own concepts to the political process, and to creating a political climate of tolerance. The preamble clearly mentions the need for “local competence” and “decentralized solu- tions.” It states the intention to work with various institutions, such as unions and interest groups, as well as other informal, local initiatives to bring about reforms. The first section of the program is called “Branden- burg after Four Years of German Unity” and specifically addresses the problems of the transition, including joblessness, long-term unemploy- ment, and homelessness. Addressing the strengths and weaknesses of the transferred political system, the party calls attention to “the separation of powers, elements of direct democracy, secret and pluralistic elections and the basic right to organize. .. . [A]t the same time many experience democ- racy and the state of law as a bureaucratic jungle, fighting between politi- cal parties, arrogance of power, and the dictatorship of money.”*° The negative aspects of unification are further described as “consumption ter- ror,” “the aggressivity of the elbow society,” and the “new patriarchal de- pendence.” The PDS, in contrast, supports a “sovereign development of the state [Land of Brandenburg]” and recognition and preservation of “the particularities of Brandenburg.” As far as dealing with the past and former communists, the program calls for “an end to the legal and social discrimi- nation of former GDR-loyal citizens because of their connections to the system.” In addition, “[W]e want no second-class Germans in terms of the protection of one’s privacy.” There should be “a scholarly analysis of the power structure of the GDR in comparison with that of the FRG” and “fair treatment of the archival materials of the GDR and the FRG.” Other party publications echo this sentiment, especially appeals for an “inde- pendent handling of our political biographies.”** Undoubtedly, the eastern interest is the defining element of the pps, shaping not only the self-perception of party leaders but also the view of the party by many in the eastern public. It is the only remaining “indige- nous” eastern party and the only one to advocate particular eastern inter- ests. The PDs is a regional party; its attempt to expand west have been unsuccessful. In these regards, the PDs plays a unique representation role. Although most initial projections were that the PDs was merely a protest party and would fade away when the socioeconomic pressures of unifica- tion subside, it is likely that, for the foreseeable future, the PDs will be a permanent feature of the German party landscape. It will persist because it 176 Elites and the Masses represents certain regional interests and values, much like the Christian Social Union (CSU) in Bavaria. A potential stumbling block for the PDs is the deep internal division over party identity. The main divide is between a younger, more reformist gen- eration of party leadership and the older, less adaptable membership. Also, a vocal group of orthodox Marxists within the party has created difficulties for reformers led by Lothar Bisky and Gregor Gysi, who wish to broaden the appeal of the PDs and guide it in the direction of governing party/coalition partner. Moreover, the PDs tries to put forward a number of party “identities,” ranging from regional populist to social democratic to what may be called a “new left alternative” identity. For example, it pro- jects a protest-oriented, New Politics image. It claims to support projects, initiatives, and movements to create a counterculture, counterpublic space, and countersociety from below. Its programs and party literature often mention the antifascist and antiracist identity of the party and focus attention on the protection of the rights of homosexuals, foreigners, and the Sorb minority. The party also strongly supports self-determination for women, specifically decisions affecting a woman’s life, body, work, social relationships, and her sexuality..In these ways, the PDS sets itself apart from the mainstream political parties and tries to offer an identity (or identities) that appeals to system-critical or radical reformist voters. The Mobilization of Political Support in the East The demobilization of mass publics is not an unusual aspect of transi- tion periods; the initial mass activity aimed at bringing about a change in regime is normally followed by an elite-dominated period of institutional- ization. The remobilization of the population is necessary for the con- solidation of democracy. Although non-elites may be distracted—under- standably—by everyday life adjustments in the transition period and may choose to entrust the details of democratic renewal to the elites, eventually their active support is needed to give the new system legitimacy and to ensure the quality of democratic governance. The demobilization of the eastern German electorate, however, has also been fostered by the new system itself. The institutions of representative, party democracy do not necessarily encourage active support, which, like passive toleration, is important for developing trust in institutions. A mi- nority of eastern Germans has attempted to remobilize. The most promi- nent examples of this movement have been for negative reasons: in re- sponse to the perceived contradictions and inequities of the new system. 177 The renewal of protests in Leipzig in 1991, where demonstrators shouted, “We will not be second-class citizens,” was such an effort. The clearest attempt to overcome the perceived disadvantages to easterners in the “pol- itics as usual” of the new system was the formation of the “committees for justice.” In the summer of 1992, Gregor Gysi and several other prominent easterners in the Bundestag and in other spheres of public life in the east founded a committee at the national level to further the interests of east- erners in all-German politics. The “Founding Appeal” of the committee stated: Many people in the new federal states feel themselves to be politi- cally, economically, socially, and culturally marginalized as second- class citizens. .. . The east Germans must articulate and guarantee their interests themselves. To this end, we call upon the communities, villages, and cities to found “committees for justice” which are non- partisan and allow entrance to each and every person. These commit- tees represent the interests of citizens and exert pressure on parlia- mentarians. ... We hope that there will also be committees for justice founded in the old federal states. These tasks in no way mean the neglect of global problems, which still threaten the existence of peo- ple. But the readiness of people in the new eastern states to think and act globally will also depend on whether and how justice in the Fed- eral Republic serves them.?? Two years later, in 1994, the formation of an Ost-Partei, an East Party, suggested that a number of easterners continued to believe that their inter- ests were not being addressed by the established arrangements.** Under the circumstances of the German experiment of transplanting a democratic system, the mobilization of system support presents a tremen- dous challenge for the new parliamentary elites. Below we examine this important process of elite-mass integration by considering the following variables: voter turnout, party membership, electoral support, and the locus of political mobilization, flowing either predominately from the top down or the bottom up. The first three variables are frequently used as indicators of legitimacy, assuming that high voter turnout and support (both membership and voting) for mainstream political parties suggest commitment to the political system and its norms. The latter variable deals with the parties’ strategies for mobilizing support. Where remobili- zation is difficult, due either to the social and economic adjustments that distract the electorate or to the unfamiliarity of the electorate with the norms and institutions of the new system, the methods that political par- 178 Elites and the Masses ties employ to attract support may have important consequences on the mobilization outcomes. The locus of mobilization considers whether a political party emphasizes elite-mass interaction that is top-down, with a preference for a party representation style of politics, or bottom-up, favor- ing a participatory democracy style of politics. Party organization, leader- ship structure, and strategies for recruiting new members and electoral support often reflect one or the other style of elite-mass interaction. Below we consider whether one style has been more effective in mobilizing sup- port in the east. Voter Turnout As table 6.5 illustrates, voter turnout in the eastern part of Germany has tended to decline since the first free election in March 1990. The trans- fer of ready-made political institutions to eastern Germany has not yet been accompanied by the levels of electoral participation common in the west. The fact that only roughly half of the eligible voters turned out for state elections in the east in 1994, though high compared with voter turn- out in the United States, suggests that a substantial portion of the eastern electorate has been demobilized. Voter turnout for federal elections in the west was 91.1 percent in 1972, 78.6 percent in 1990, and 80.5 percent in 1994.“ Voter turnout rates have dropped in most other postcommunist coun- tries. Several reasons may be given for this drop: people have other pri- orities in the transition, such as finding work, paying the rent, and secur- Table 6.5 Voter Turnout in Eastern Germany for State and Federal Elections (percentage) Election Turnout March 1990 Volkskammer 93.4 Oct. 1990 Landtage (all combined) 69.1 Dec. 1990 Bundestag 74.5 Brandenburg 1994 56.2 (—10.9 from 1990) Mecklenburg-Vorpommern 1994 73.1 (—8.3) Sachsen 1994 58.4 (—14.3) Sachsen-Anhalt 1994 54.9 (—10.2) Thiiringen 1994 75.3 (+28.5) Source: American Institute for Contemporary German Studies, in cooperation with For- schungsgruppe Wahlen E. V., Mannheim, “Super Election Year 1994 Reports,” Washington, D.C., 1994; and Werner Weidenfeld and Karl-Rudolf Korte, eds., Handbuch zur deutschen Einheit (Bonn: Bundeszentrale fiir politische Bildung, 1993). 179 ing quality health care; they feel that they cannot influence political deci- sions, so they do not bother to vote; the pace and complexity of political changes and, in particular, the rise and fall of political parties makes it difficult to discern which party stands for what, so the easiest solution is not to bother with voting; not voting may be a form of protest against a particular government or against the entire system; and, perhaps, political apathy. While these possible explanations may be tied to transition stress factors and, therefore, temporary, they are not encouraging signs of demo- cratic consolidation. Party Membership and Electoral Support The public disinterest and disaffection with politics, what Germans call Politikverdrossenheit (roughly translated as “political vexation”), has been a theme in the western German media for several years. There has been much debate about the actual extent of this disaffection in the west and, especially, about the real focus of voter dissatisfaction, whether poli- tics in general, specific politicians (especially as a result of a spate of political scandals involving several prominent politicians), or the politi- cal parties themselves.*® The creation of several locally based Stattpar- teien, or substitute parties, was in direct response to public dissatisfaction with the established political parties. The so-called catch-all parties, the CDU and SPD, as well as the FDP, have all debated internally the issue of how to retain current members and attract new ones. More recently, these parties have turned the debate to the issue of how to attract the support of nonmembers. This discussion sug- gests that some leaders of the mainstream parties recognize the dawn of a new era in German politics. The German parties may no longer be “mem- bership parties.” Over the years the clear-cut cleavages in (western) Ger- man society have disappeared, robbing the parties of natural constituen- cies. At the same time, the avenues for citizen political participation have expanded beyond the political parties to citizens’ groups and numerous associations. In this situation, one might argue, the parties will need to shift their focus from being agents of integration to becoming more profes- sional and efficient institutional actors. The strategies for adapting to the era of declining party membership are beyond the scope of this study, but they have varied among the parties. The more relevant point is, however, that the debate about the appropriate type of democracy for Germany, whether representative-institutional or participatory, is not new to the Federal Republic. What may be new is the way in which the political 180 Elites and the Masses Table 6.6 Party Membership (and percentage change) in Eastern and Western Germany CDU SPD FDP A90/Gr PDS East 1991 111,200 28,300 75,000 2,000 185,000 East 1992 98,500 25,700 45,000 2,700 154,400 (—11%) (—9%) (—40%) (+35%) (—16%) East 1993 83,800 26,000 29,800 2,700 131,400 (—14%) (-1%) (—33%) (—0%) (—14%) West 1992 626,800 860,300 65,000 36,100 * Source: Helga A. Welsh, “Four Years and Several Elections Later: The Eastern German Political Landscape after Unification,” in David Conradt et al., eds., Germany’s New Politics (Tempe, Ariz.: German Studies Review, 1995). *In late 1994, approximately 2,000 westerners had joined the PDs. parties address these same issues in the new states, where people have far less experience in and attachment to the established party system. Whether the political parties modify established patterns and strategies may have an impact on their ability to mobilize this new segment of the FRG polity.*® Party membership and electoral support are important indicators of the mobilization performance of the political parties. As with the drop in voter turnout, declining party membership and electoral support for main- stream parties in the east have been sources of concern in Germany. At various times in the history of the FRG, observers have expressed alarm over “aggressive apathy” or the mobilization of protest groups, such as the student movement in the 1960s and the peace movement in the late 1970s and early 1980s. In particular; the rise of extreme parties, such as the Republikaner on the far right, have caused a great deal of alarm. Though the widespread distrust of political parties and disdain for join- ing parties are usually interpreted as a lingering effect of the politicization of life in the GDR, the drop in party membership, illustrated in table 6.6, is nonetheless troubling for the mobilization and integration processes. Christian Democrats. Initially, the eastern public was very enthusiastic about the cpu. Before the 1990 Bundestag election, 62 percent of those polled in the east believed the best campaign was being waged by the CDuU, compared to 14 percent for the SPD, 6 percent for the FDP, 3 percent for the Alliance 90, and 12 percent who gave no response.*’ It was not long, how- ever, before the cCDU membership declined by roughly 11 percent between 1991 and 1992 and then by 14 percent the following year. Moreover, the 181 CDU share of the eastern vote in the federal election of 1994 and in three out of five regional elections in 1994 fell from 1990 levels. The percentage change in the share of the vote for the CDU between the 1990 and 1994 state elections was —8.2 in Brandenburg, —2.7 Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, —1.5 Sachsen, 0.0 Sachsen-Anhalt, —4.2 Thiiringen.** Social Democrats. When it was founded, the eastern SPD (initially SDP) was an intellectuals’ and pastors’ party, attracting numerous reform-minded and protest-oriented East Germans in late 1989. SPD membership in the east dropped by about 9 percent between 1991 and 1992, though it was only 28,300 at the beginning of that period.*° A number of reasons for the lack of enthusiasm for the spD in the east have already been suggested. To that list we might also add a lack of inspiring national leadership in the spp. Neither Oskar Lafontaine, the chancellor candidate in 1990, who warned of the difficulties of swift unification, nor Rudolf Scharping in 1994, seemed to create much excitement in the east. On the other hand, the powerful political figure of Helmut Kohl likely drew voters in the east to the CDU, as the respected statesman Hans-Dietrich Genscher did to the FDP in 1990. Free Democrats. As for the FDP, the eastern public’s reaction to its party program is reflected in the party’s membership figures, public opinion, and electoral support. Membership fell sharply, by 40 percent, between 1991 and 1992 and by another 33 percent the following year. In the most recent state elections, the FDP has been the big loser (see table 6.8). After state elections in 1994, the FDP was no longer represented in any of the five eastern Landtage. Alliance 90/Greens. Other than intellectuals, especially in urban areas, the Alliance 90/Greens has no “natural” party base in the east. Disarray among the party’s eastern leadership has not helped to widen their base of support. The party’s organizational weakness is another impediment to building support in the east.°° The eastern membership totals only 2,700, while in the west, the Greens count 36,100 members. Party of Democratic Socialism. As the successor to the communist party of the GDR, the PDs was able to tap into the organizational base of the SED.°! In a similar pattern to the other parties in the east, PDS membership has fallen steadily, from 185,300 members in 1991, to 154,400 in 1992, and 123,000 in 1994 (of which only 2,000 were westerners). In the October 1994 federal 182 Elites and the Masses Table 6.7 Federal Election Results in Eastern Germany, by Party, 1990 and 1994 (percentage of vote) CDU SPD FDP A90/Gr PDS 1990 41.8 24.3 12.9 6.2 Hi [ei 1994 38.5 31.5 3.5 4.3 19.8 Source: American Institute for Contemporary German Studies, in cooperation with Forschungs- gruppe Wahlen E. V., Mannheim, “Super Election Year 1994 Reports,” Washington, D.C., 1994. election, however, the PDs attracted almost 20 percent of the vote in the east, making impressive gains in each of the five new states and winning one-third of the vote in East Berlin (see table 6.7). As a result of the 1994 elections, the PDs held thirty seats in the Bundestag, compared to only seventeen seats in the 1990-1994 legislative period. Ironically, the newly elected PDs legislator Stefan Heym, as the oldest member of the Bundestag, opened the new parliamentary session. The results of the 1994 state parliamentary elections in the east sug- gested that many easterners have been dissatisfied with the results of “pol- itics as usual” since 1990. Not only did fewer eastern Germans turn out to vote in elections in late 1993 and in 1994, but they gave the governing parties in Bonn fewer votes and the PDs significantly more support than they had four years earlier (see table 6.8).°* Moreover, in the 1995 election to the Berlin State parliament, the CDU received 37.6 percent of the vote, SPD 23.4 percent, the Alliance 90/Greens 14 percent, and the PDs 15 per- cent overall. In the eastern part of the city, however, the PDS was the stron- gest party with 36 percent. Initially, the PDS was the party of former GDR cadres, pensioners, and unemployed workers and farmers. Here it is necessary to distinguish be- tween party membership and party supporters. The membership profile of the PDs remains relatively old: 38 percent of the members are pensioners over sixty-five years of age, and only 7 percent are between the ages of ighteen and thirty-four.** Among those who voted for the PDs in the fed- eral election of 1994, however, were a number of younger eastern Ger- mans. A quarter of the PDS voters were between eighteen and thirty-four years old, and another 39 percent were between thirty-five and fifty-four.* The PDs cannot be viewed simply as the party of the low-earners, or the socioeconomic “losers of unification.” Though 80 percent of the PDS mem- bership earned less than 3,500 marks a month (CDU/CSU 31 percent, SPD 38 percent, Alliance 90/Greens 13 percent), PDS voters in 1994 on average had a slightly higher average income.®* What is significant, however, is 183 that numerous upwardly mobile easterners voted for the PDs in 1994. The higher the formal education, the likelier the vote was for the PDs: 35 per- cent of PDs voters were college graduates. Most importantly, one out of four white-collar workers and every third civil servant in the east voted for the PDS in 1994.°° Moreover, while in 1990 there was an especially high con- centration of voters in the Berlin/Brandenburg area, the center of the old GDR, the party gained support in 1994 in other, largely urban, areas of eastern Germany. The level of interest in politics among PDs voters, as well as members, was particularly high: 30 percent of the PDs voters in 1994 reported “very strong” interest in political subjects, compared with 13 percent for the CDU/CSU, 13 percent for the spD, and 14 percent for Alliance 90/Greens.°” A study by Henry Kreikenbom on the transformation of political culture in the new states found that the deciding factor for party orientation of east Germans today is related to the ideological divide in the GDR; namely, between those in the official culture (ehemals Systemintegrierten) and those outside (ehemals Systemdistanzierten). The PDS has attracted sup- port from the former group, while the latter lends its support to western parties or, perhaps in most cases, to no party at all.°* In public opinion polls in 1994, 37 percent held no positive feelings for any party, whereas 24 percent had positive feelings for the SPD, and 14 percent for the CDU.°? Levels of trust in institutions, however, are lower among PDS voters. The PDs voters had lower trust than other party supporters in all categories of FRG institutions, especially for the federal government and the Bundes- tag®° and expressed far greater frustration with politics in general, or Poli- tikverdrossenheit.*! The PDs voters also had a particularly pessimistic view of the future economic situation in the east. Interviews with PDS able 6.8 State Election Results in Eastern Germany, by Party, 1990 and 1994 percentage of vote) Mecklenburg- Sachsen- Vorpommern Brandenburg Anhalt Thiiringen Sachsen 1990 1994 1990 1994 1990 1994 1990 1994 1990 1994 DU 38.3 38.3 29.4 19°3 39 34.2 45.4 42.9 53.8 57.9 PD Pai 30.2 38.3 54.2 26 33.4 22.8 30.5 Ale }rail 72 DP 50. 3.9 6.6 2.2 13.5 3.4 9r3 3.3 Bes) 1.6 DS 1557 209) 13.4 7/8) 12 19.5 9.7 16.1 ‘OFZ 16.3 .90/Gr 6.4 3.6 6.4 3 Bos) Biel: 6.5 4.1 5.6 4 jource: Der Tagesspiegel, June 27, 1994; September 14, 1994; and October 17, 1994. Vote: Figures for A90/Gr for 1990 are combined totals of Alliance 90 and the East German Greens. 184 Elites and the Masses supporters conducted in late 1995 by Der Spiegel reveal the deep cynicism of this group of easterners: “the ‘people’ were fooled,” “cheated out of their 66 accomplishments,” “there is no such thing as ‘the people’ anymore,” “no ” “se and “‘we are the people’, ha ha.”®? Clearly, the PDs has benefited electorally from this type of dissatisfaction with the course of the postcommunist transition. It is desire to be one people with the western Germans, necessary to point out that the gains for the PDs are not a signal that eastern Germans have turned their backs on economic and political reforms. Polls show that few easterners want to return to the old system and that many are even more optimistic about the future than westerners.®* Rather, the increase in eastern support for the PDs is a signal that politics as usual is not acceptable to a growing number of easterners and that the established political programs and routines do not adequately address their interests, for example, regarding mass unemployment in the east. Even so, support for the pbs should not be interpreted as merely a protest vote against the parties associated with the FRG system and its policies; it is also an asser- tion of eastern identity. The PDs has struck a chord with a significant segment of eastern German society. In doing so, it has filled a void in the unified German political party landscape. The notion that support for the PDs indicates an assertion of eastern identity is supported by public opinion data. Polls conducted in 1994 found that 59 percent of easterners questioned thought the PDs was the one party that stood up most convincingly for the interests of eastern Germans, and 56 percent said the PDS contributed to the strengthening of self- confidence of easterners.®* Furthermore, 71 percent of easterners polled thought the pDs should be viewed as a normal party.®° Though the PDs has had the advantage of tapping into the old SED organi- zational infrastructure, there are other keys to the mobilization success of this party. Perhaps most importantly, the PDs has cultivated a mobilization strategy that focuses on the grass roots. Locus of Mobilization The 1994 campaign specifically targeted young voters in the east, for exam- ple with campaign posters featuring a young couple about to embrace with the caption, “When kissing, keep your eyes closed; when voting, keep them open. The first time—ppDs!” As Gerald Kleinfeld has observed, “It was not only by the poster campaign, the media, and a superstar campaigner that the PDS made its election effort for the October ballot, but by ward politics in a style that would have warmed the hearts of party machines familiar to 185 many an American city.”°° In the months leading up to the 1994 elections, the pps held numerous public discussions and campaign rallies which often drew huge crowds, especially when Gregor Gysi was in attendance. More than just a grassroots-focused, ward-style politics, the PDS cam- paign strategy featured a great deal of media coverage and direct references to its self-image as a leftist opposition party and advocate of eastern inter- ests. Gregor Gysi made frequent television appearances and spoke to au- diences all over the country with his high-energy charm and wit. More- over, the party invited several people to run on the PDs list who were not party members. On one hand, this seemed to signal an “opening up” of the party to participation by nonmembers, while on the other hand, it was clearly a tactical move because it increased the chances that the PDS could profit from the electoral laws of the FRG and enter the Bundestag without passing the 5 percent hurdle. The PDs also targeted particular districts with well-known candidates, some of whom were not members of the PDS. The party’s “open door” policy in the state parliaments is another strat- egy that wins support among disaffected easterners and proponents of more direct democracy. In both the Brandenburg and Thiiringen Landtage, this author noted the large number of people stopping in to talk with the staff of the PDs Fraktion. Moreover, in contrast to the other parties, the PDS in Brandenburg allowed visitors, including the author, to sit in on weekly Fraktionsitzungen, caucus meetings. Though certainly these were part of an effort to overcome the party’s negative image and association with an undemocratic past, the attempts by the PDs to be more accessible to cit- izens and responsive to everyday concerns has made the party stand out in an otherwise business-as-usual political landscape. Finally, it should be noted that the pps has gained a reputation in the east as being a kind of service organization. In the immediate period after uni- fication, when many easterners lost their jobs or their homes (due to priva- tization and skyrocketing rents), the PDS sent representatives into commu- nities to assist people with the new and confusing paperwork of the market economy, such as rental agreements. In sharp contrast, the two catch-all parties initially did nothing to mod- ify their mobilization strategies in the east. Critics of the CDU assert that its strategy for mobilizing public support has been too centralized and its politics too Bonn-driven. At the federal level, the CDU is strictly in favor of representative rather than direct, democracy. However, at the state and local levels, especially where the CDU is in the opposition, as in Branden- burg, positions toward plebiscitarian elements of democracy may be more flexible. 186 Elites and the Masses The foundation, or Basis, of the SPD remains very weak, and elite-mass interaction that might strengthen the party’s connection to the Basis is still underdeveloped. Realizing this, eastern spD leaders, led by Bundestag member Wolfgang Thierse, embarked on tours through the east trying to mobilize support. Probably noting the success of PDs efforts at the commu- nity level, the spp leaders arrived on an “Infomobil” and offered advice to people on the transplanted rent system, health care, and retirement plans. Traditionally, the Social Democrats in the west favor more direct par- ticipation by citizens than do members of the CDU. The party program from December 1989 states support for legally guaranteed, limited plebiscita- rian elements such as the petition ( Volksbegehren) and referendum (Volks- entscheid) at the local, state, and federal levels.°” Like the other main- stream parties in the west, however, the SPD is adjusting its organizational strategy away from a mass party to an active core of members. This trend clearly does not address the party’s mobilization problems in the east. As for the FpP’s mobilization strategy, the party has long been criticized for being too hierarchical with an entrenched leadership. In its program, the FDP places some value on the notion of measures for more participatory democracy, with some FpP politicians such as Hildegard Hamm-Brucher, the party’s candidate for federal president in 1993—94, in the forefront of efforts to push for more citizen participation. Within the party, the reform debate addresses the need to open the FDP to new members and interests. At the center of the FDP’s strategy for reform is the role of “liberal clubs” where citizens can meet to discuss problems of society, to participate in projects and seminars, and to make social contacts.®* However, in practice, the clubs have met with little response, and the FDP’s role as governing coalition partner has softened the party’s position on reforming the politi- cal system to allow for greater citizen participation. Since its founding in the west in the late 1970s, and continuing after its merger with Alliance 90 in 1993, the Greens have followed a grassroots strategy for mobilizing citizen support. The party Basis is extremely im- portant to the Alliance 90/Greens. In terms of the type of democracy envi- sioned by the party, participation is a central part of its program. Proced- ural-democratic reform has been a central issue in the party, which has pushed for constitutional change to guarantee more opportunities for cit- izen participation. The party has suggested a figure of a hundred thousand signatures as a requirement for a petition and a minimum of one million votes to bring about change through referendum.*®® While it obviously favors a grassroots approach to politics, the Alliance 90/Greens simply do not have a message that appeals to eastern voters. 187 The Significance of the Umgang mit der PDS Debate for Integration In an effort to deprive the PDs of its status of eastern advocate and, perhaps, in hopes of capturing PDs voters, there are signs that some of the parlia- mentary elites of the established parties have slowly begun to rethink their original positions toward the PDS, its positions, its mobilization strategies, and its claim to be a legitimate player in the democratic system. In many ways, the changing views of the PDs reflect a growing recognition that, rather than a smooth integration of the eastern public into the ready-made FRG system, there has been a lag in the vertical integration process. While there was a wide range of opinions about der Umgang mit der PDs (dealing with the PDS) among the state parliamentarians interviewed, opinions gen- erally broke down along party lines. Not surprisingly, the CDU parliamen- tarians were most likely to view the PDS as a pariah and doubt its aims and methods, while the SPD was generally more accepting of the PDS as a legiti- mate political party representing legitimate interests of at least some of the eastern electorate, or even as a potential coalition partner in local and state government. Among the spD parliamentarians, the majority believed the PDS to be too populist and generally unrealistic in many of its positions, but nonetheless defended the party’s right to participate in the political process, recognizing that a good fraction of the electorate in the east voted for them in 1994 and was likely to do so again in 1998. Few SPD parliamen- tarians are willing to say they are prepared to do more than talk with the PDS. One SPD parliamentary leader in Thiiringen said, “I will never coali- tion with them [PDs]. I do not agree that the theme [of cooperation] should be taboo, but I do not think they are politically capable [Politikfahig]” (interview, Erfurt, July 1997). Despite (some may argue, due to) the fact that many members of the CDU in the east today were bloc party members in the GDR (and, therefore, not entirely free of taint from the old regime), CDU members interviewed were often quick to dismiss PDS members as incorrigible antidemocrats. For example: I have no contact with the ppS—because they are not a coalition part- ner and, more importantly, I do not view them as a democratic party. (Erfurt, July 1997) I am ready to forgive the PDS when they recognize the wrongs they have committed. They do not do that, however. They still support violence! They would have a communist system again if they could! I do not blame the voters of the PDs but the PDs itself. . . . [T]he Sachsen- 18s Elites and the Masses Anhalt model [minority coalition with “toleration” of PDS] is shame- ful... having radicals in such a role! (Member since 1970, Erfurt, July 1997) No, I take no responsibility for the National Front. That was all the SED. ... I ignore the PDs in parliamentary debates and in committees. There is no substance [to their contributions]—it is too emotional. They never say how they will solve things. (Erfurt, July 1997) The attitudes toward, and strategies for dealing with, the PDs have devel- oped differently from state to state. While there are likely many complex reasons for individual parliamentarians’ attitudes toward the pps, the overall positions of the party caucuses and their leaders are based largely on political-tactical considerations. In particular, the willingness to pub- licly accept the PDs as a legitimate discussion partner depends on the party in power, the coalition arithmetic (that is, the relative strength of coalition partners), and, finally, the level of public acceptance of the PDs as a legiti- mate political party. Much more than the CDU, however, SPD members were likely to take a more tolerant or even conciliatory position regarding the pps. This difference, however, should not be interpreted as purely ideolog- ically motivated. While it may be true that to some SPD caucus members, the “democratic socialist” PDS is closer to the SPD on certain issues than is the CDU, there are also tactical reasons that come into play with the SPD. In Brandenburg, where the SPD has been the dominant party since 1990, even winning an absolute majority in 1994, neither the PDs nor the CDU poses a threat to the party’s power. As a result, there is less need to play one party off the other and less need to formulate positions on the PDS based on calculations about coalition arithmetic. During the first legisla- tive period, when there were five parties in the parliament (a three-way coalition of the spp, FDP, and Alliance 90/Greens, with the PDs and CDU in opposition), parliamentarians of all five parties spoke proudly of the “Brandenburg way.” In the first as well as the second legislative period, the input of the PDs was viewed with relatively less emotion and skepticism in Brandenburg than elsewhere. Compared with the weak and internally troubled cbu, the PDs represented a coherent and consistent party com- prised of many capable individuals, including the academics Lothar Bisky and Michael Schumann. In general, it may be said that the majority of the members are bright, articulate, and very hard-working. The image often painted in the media of populist knee-jerk politicians hardly applies in the Brandenburg legislature. In Mecklenburg-Vorpommern and Thiiringen, where in 1994—98 the sPD 189 was in an often uncomfortable “grand” coalition with the CDU, the spp would clearly have liked to find a way to oust the CDU from power. One of the ways the SPD might be able to govern without the CDU would be to win over PDS voters. Another way, quietly discussed by some SPD leaders, is following the Magdeburg model or, even more daring, actually entering into a coalition with the pps. In Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, sPD leader Harald Ringstorff publicly suggested working with the PDs, which his party did by entering into the first SPD-PDS coalition at the state level. Richard Dewes in Thiiringen (who came over from the west a few years ago) has also publicly stated his support for a more positive working rela- tionship (i.e., someday perhaps coalition) with the pps. Politicians in both of these states have been watching where the winds of public opinion are blowing. In May 1997, a public opinion poll showed that a majority of the public in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern viewed the PDS as a normal party and only 11 percent saw them as tainted and unfit to govern because of the SED connection. Most thought the party should be in power.’”° The CDU might also be accused of political opportunism where the PDs is concerned. Let us turn briefly to the CDU parliamentary leader in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Eckhard Rehberg, and his so-called Werte Pa- pier, which addressed the need for a fresh debate within the party and in society about fundamental values and morals.”! While most of the paper focused on the need to redirect energies from material aspirations to civic and individual improvement, the topic of how to deal constructively with the PDs was also addressed. Rehberg appealed to his fellow party members to cease the petty name-calling and the automatic dismissal of individuals as tainted, in an effort supposedly motivated by a concern for political culture and societal values in unified Germany. Unconstructive bickering, he argued, often has the opposite effect, of driving eastern voters away from the CDU. What is necessary, he contended, is to challenge the PDs on a policy level. Rehberg clearly took a big risk by challenging the dogma of the national CDU regarding the PDS. It appears that the risk paid off: Rehberg has won praise for injecting new life into the CDU in the east. At the very least, he helped to improve his party’s image in the east. At most, he won over some of the PDS voters.”* In Thiiringen, where the cbU has been the largest party in coalition (first with the FDP and then with the spp), there has been much more resistance among CDU members to the notion that the PDs is a normal party. It can be said that the CDU in Thiiringen is more conservative than in either Brandenburg or Mecklenburg-Vorpommern and more vocal in its opposi- tion to working with the pps. The cbU would not benefit electorally by 190 Elites and the Masses taking a more tolerant position vis-a-vis the PDS and is perfectly con- tent to allow the spp to make mistakes where relations with the PDS are concerned. In the face of the electoral strength of the pps, political leaders in the eastern states have begun to contemplate how best to adjust to the reality of the east’s three-party system. Since the Alliance 90/Greens and FDP are unlikely to pass the 5 percent hurdle, the coalition-building options in the east are very different from the west. Unless the CDU or SPD wins an abso- lute majority (in 1994 achieved only by the spp in Brandenburg and the CDU in Sachsen), the coalition options are either a grand coalition or some type of agreement with the pps. In 1997 members of the PDs Fraktion in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern declared that the group was evenly divided between those who wanted to remain an opposition party and those who believed the party should seek to govern. As one PDS parliamentarian in- terviewed for this study explained, “Staying in the opposition sends the message that the PDs dismisses or refuses this system. That is not true! I would like for us to govern. To work toward a more socially conscious, ecologically sound system, we must be on the job. That could be dan- gerous for the PDS, however, because we cannot change the situation much. We cannot fulfill all of the voters’ expectations” (Schwerin, June 1997). Although many PDS members are adamantly opposed to assuming a governing role, its leadership in the east is keenly aware of the party’s new bargaining power at the state level. The PDs is a force to be reckoned with in the east. This and other political realities, such as the socioeconomic situation in the east, will continue to shape the political debate in the new parliaments and present eastern politicians with particular challenges and options. Weak Elite-Mass Linkages Based on a number of indicators, especially decreasing voter turnout and a decline in party membership in the east since 1990, it may be concluded that the party system in the east remains very weak. This weakness is part of a more general phenomenon: the underdevelopment of an intermediary layer that links the elite at the top of the structure of political participation to the mass public at the bottom. One of the Leninist legacies in the east after 1990 is the lack of a pluralis- tic group structure. This stratum of social life was missing in the GDR, and the network of mediating associations and groups remains underdevel- oped in the east. As one Brandenburg parliamentarian, a member of the 191 SPD, explained in an interview, “Ossis are not founders and joiners of organizations the way Wessis are” (Potsdam, March 1994). This is one of the legacies of the dominant culture of the GDR, characterized by privat- ism and the avoidance of public/ political activity. In the FRG, in contrast, there exists a dense layer of interest groups and associations, including employers’ associations, organized labor, agricultural associations, and religious organizations. It must be pointed out that actual memberships in organizations, though still lagging in number compared with the west, are fairly high in the east. This is especially true of union membership, which one study puts at 54 percent of eastern Germans, compared with about 20 percent in the west.” In general, it may be said that the character of organizations in the east is primarily economic or work-related, with labor unions being the most prevalent, and in the west, New Politics groups and associations, par- ticularly ecology-oriented groups, are more common. Aside from unions, clubs and associations are not yet as widespread in the east as in the west. The Allensbach Institute in Germany found that in 1991, 60 percent of westerners polled and 53 percent of easterners belonged to at least one club. Twice as many westerners as easterners were members of athletic/ sports clubs and three times more westerners were members of civic or social clubs. According to this study, easterners were three times as likely to be union members and twice as likely to be in garden clubs.”* Beyond the number of organizations and size of memberships, there remain differences in the quality of the contact between these organiza- tions and citizens. According to one analyst, the average participation rate of members in organizations and clubs was 40 percent in the east and 32 percent in the west. However, the actual linkage between organization and citizens, measured by the transfer of information from organization leaders to members, was lower for the east: 58 percent compared with 82 percent in the west.”° From this, we might conclude that while there are associations in the east, particularly in the area of economic/work inter- ests, the organizations do not yet effectively link the new elite with the citizenry. Following years of exposure to highly politicized mass organiza- tions that the GDR regime imposed upon its citizens, the eastern public re- mains skeptical of integrative agents such as interest groups and political parties. As one CDU parliamentarian observed, “People here have a critical outlook. They are not unpolitical, but generally they are very guarded when it comes to representative democracy” (interview, Schwerin, June 1997). The pattern of two-way communication and mobilization flow found in 192 Elites and the Masses the west is lacking in the east in other ways.”° The eastern elites, whose membership in nonpolitical associations and clubs would link them with constituents, are not yet networked as well as western politicians.” Inter- view partners from the Brandenburg sample reported that they have had little time for constituency work and that there is little demand from their constituents for greater contacts. One PDs parliamentarian explained, “East Germans don’t see their relation to politicians in the same way as westerners. They don’t yet go directly to political representatives to com- plain or articulate their concerns. No one comes to my district office. They are more likely to come to big meetings, community gatherings, and that may have something to do with the collective experiences” (interview, Potsdam, March 1994). As a result of socialization experiences under a Leninist-type regime, easterners generally are not accustomed to organizing themselves to pro- mote their interests. Most people are not yet familiar with the formal and informal rules of the FRG political system. As one parliamentary party leader from the FDP related, “In the GDR context, people were familiar with the rules; they learned to adapt, especially in their participatory roles. Everyone had a certain level of knowledge and substance for argument and discussion. This basic knowledge is needed before one can feel self- confident in the present situation” (interview, Potsdam, April 1994). While in the old system in the GDR people led a “two-track” existence, with official rules and understood unofficial ways of doing things, in the new situation there appears to be only one way—the western German way, which is still largely unfamiliar to many eastern Germans. Another parlia- mentary party leader, from the CDU, added, “people cannot yet decide what their own role should be in politics. They still view politicians as ‘them up there’” (interview, Potsdam, April 1994). Parliamentarians often reported that the people do not understand the strains and limited room for creativ- ity that legislators face. Moreover, people do not yet fully grasp the com- plexity of the legislative process. One parliamentary party (the PDS) in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern published an informative booklet titled “What Are They Doing up There in the Castle?” —referring to the elected repre- sentatives in the provincial capital whose offices are in the Schwerin cas- tle. The booklet gives interesting biographical information about the PDs members of parliament and describes the work each does on committees and in the plenary sessions.”® Other parliamentarians suggested that in the new political situation since 1990, where there has been so much conformity, many easterners see no reason to be involved. They choose not to participate because they do 193 not believe their interests will be taken into account in the politics-as- usual environment. Such feelings of political apathy likely underlie the decline in voter turnout and the slow development of other forms of politi- cal participation in the east. Opinion data reflect that over three-quarters of the eastern public believes that they are treated as second-class citizens in the new system.”° When this author asked Brandenburg parliamen- tarians in 1994 whether they believed there was any truth to the phrase “second-class citizenship” as it applies to eastern Germans, 15 percent strongly agreed, 12 percent agreed, 15 percent agreed somewhat, 10 per- cent disagreed, and none who responded to the question said they strongly disagreed (48 percent left the question blank). These interview partners indicated that they recognized that eastern citizens are frustrated with politics, politicians, and political parties. Most said they thought that the situation had grown worse in the previous year (1993-94). According to one interviewee, the eastern public does not yet identify with “democ- racy” and “rights,” making interaction between representatives and con- stituents more difficult. Several parliamentarians expressed disappointment in what they per- ceived to be the lack of the eastern public’s appreciation for the complexity of politicians’ jobs. In a number of respects, the interviews pointed to the fact that the overwhelming majority of eastern elites were not accustomed to articulating and aggregating the interests of others when they entered office. A number of the FRG-style channels of elite-mass communications and interaction frustrated them and seemed to them to inhibit, rather than facilitate, elite performance. In short, political learning has had to occur on both sides of the political participation structure—among elites and non-elites. Finally, the nature of the FRG electoral system has an effect on the weak linkage between elites and the mass public. Half of the legislators are elected via “party lists.” This means they are not directly elected by the voters and do not represent a particular district or constituency. Their direct contact with the mass public, therefore, is likely to be less than that of legislators holding district seats. Even for legislators with district seats, the distance and time constraints mean that a representative may not visit the district often. Even the weekly office hours in the district (which many reported are only two or three hours a week) may be handled by local assistants. Does this mean that eastern elites are not performing the political inte- gration function? By 1994, interviewees in Brandenburg clearly articu- lated that they wanted to be responsive to constituents and would have 194 Elites and the Masses liked to devote more time to constituency work. However, they quickly added that the magnitude of parliamentary work overwhelmed their abil- ities to devote the desired time to constituency work. The political institu- tions, namely the political parties that were transferred unchanged, have focused the attention of political elites on policy-making rather than on interaction with the electorate. As a result, elite development in the east has favored a “hill style” focused on parliamentary duties over a “home style,” which would emphasize political leadership and the constituency role.®° In the party democracy that has been replicated in the east, government is the business of party elites. In these transferred organizations, the flow of political activity is from center to periphery, or from top to bottom. In general, it may be said that fixity and hierarchy characterize the political process rather than grassroots organization and citizen mobilization. The combination of the externally driven transition, the political inex- perience of the eastern elite, and the lack of networks linking elites and non-elites all contribute to a general pattern of conformity to prescribed party and parliamentary roles. Rather than allowing initiative and inde- pendence to assert political leadership, the adopted party organization and programs have stifled the eastern voice so that often indigenous elites no longer speak a “language” that the public understands. Additionally, the parliamentary elites have focused a disproportionate amount of the time and energy on parliamentary work, owing in large part to the nature of the democratic transition, but also due, in part, to the lack of intermedi- ary linkages to the public. In short, horizontal integration has been empha- sized over vertical integration.*! The obstacles to integrating the eastern public may be summed up in the following points: First, the new institutions, namely the political parties and network of interest groups, are still “hovering over” the eastern public.*? The input side of politics—in terms of the flow of ideas and activity in the east and in terms of easterners’ expectations about politics—has not been adequately addressed by the postcommunist institutions, such as the political parties, nor by the institutional actors—the elites. As a result, a passive, output- oriented political culture has been at least partially preserved, or perhaps rejuvenated, in the east. Second, because the intermediate layer of interest groups and political parties is still weak in the east, the eastern public is more likely to identify with individuals than with ideologies, or political party programs. As one of the FDP parliamentary leaders in Brandenburg explained, 195 The public trust in Stolpe shows that the people need personalities to identify with, to see that an east German can be successful and inde- pendent. It gives people power, dignity, and self-confidence. As an FDP politician, I can see that Stolpe is necessary in the present situa- tion in Brandenburg—as a trust-builder for the people. . . . Such per- sonalities . . . act as catalysts. Such personalities are needed now, but as people begin to gain self-confidence, start to trust themselves and to take fate into their own hands, then such figures will lose signifi- cance. People will view these “identification figures” more critically. They will expect to do things on their own initiative, not wait for sig- nals from the state, from politicians. (Interview, Potsdam, April 1994) This parliamentarian points to a very important dynamic in the postcom- munist east: strong or sympathetic personalities and their biographies play a larger role in the east in creating system support than might be expected in a mature democratic polity like that in the western part of Germany. Elite legitimacy and system legitimacy may be more closely linked in the postcommunist situation than they are in the west, where personal experience with the system can provide a basis for party loyalty and system support that is not tied to individual politicians. This ten- dency toward personalized politics brings our attention back to one of the basic propositions of this study regarding the importance of homegrown politicians as agents of integration. An identification with personalities over institutions and norms, however, brings with it the danger of the rise of demagogues and radical movements. It also carries the danger that the wrongdoing of a politician with whom the people identify may be over- looked, excused, or even supported. Third, in the absence of a network of intermediary organizations linking elites with the mass public, one way that elites learn of their constituent interests is through protest voting or nonvoting. Both of these acts are negative by nature, and they signal disapproval with the aspects of the political setting—perhaps certain policies, leaders, or even the norms, rou- tines, and institutions of the system. Fourth, eastern elites may be more likely to learn of their constituents’ interests through personal or social interaction in their neighborhoods, villages, and Kleingdrten (garden plots). This owes not only to the current situation of disintegration described in this chapter, but also to the ordi- nary backgrounds of many of the new parliamentarians. Many of the new elites have come from communities and backgrounds that make them more comfortable with more personal and social interaction with constitu- 196 Elites and the Masses ents. One parliamentarian in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern explained that he still lives with his family in their old communist-era Plattenbau apart- ment and continues to drive an old car rather than move somewhere new and buy a big German car. He knows that it is important to his constituents that he is “one of them.” He also adds that by staying in his old neighbor- hood he can learn what the concerns and needs of the people are. In a similar manner, many eastern parliamentarians reported that holding a second office at the local level greatly helped them stay in touch with voters’ concerns. Several parliamentarians (most of them former teachers) reported that they try to nurture ties with their home districts by reaching out to the youth and visiting schools. The leader of the CDU caucus in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern reported that he holds his Biirgerstunde (of- fice hours) at home on Sundays over coffee. He noted that it was important not to change his All/tag (everyday surroundings, routine), or he would risk losing the trust of the people. These examples of local linkages and grass- roots style suggest ways in which some eastern politicians have success- fully integrated aspects of their old culture with the new institutions. Rather than being a sign of regression or a failure to assimilate to the new routines and patterns of elite-mass relations, they indicate that adaptation, that is, modification of transplanted institutions to fit local tastes and habits, has begun. Slowly, a number of political elites in the east have begun to address the need for changes in party identity and mobilization strategy in order to attract eastern support. These efforts have led to increasing regional varia- tion in party identity—not unlike the regional identities of parties in the west. The few studies that have been done of regional party variation after unification report that to varying extents, the eastern German political parties and leadership have started to develop a particular eastern profile that often sets them apart from, and puts them at odds with, their western colleagues.** Beyond the eastern dimension, each state has a unique set of political relations that impact political party identity and strategy. Several years after unification, regional political leadership is gaining strength in the east. These eastern elites recognize they must respond to local tastes and habits and represent regional identity and culture if they are to con- vince the public of the worthiness of their leadership, as well as the merits of the new system. 7 Transplanting Democracy: The Consequences for Elite Building and Integration The implosion of the GDR and the transplant of a ready-made system helped to make this transition the most accelerated and compact in the region and, perhaps, in the world. Here, the institutionalization of execu- tive, legislative, and legal structures occurred quickly. Had a counterelite been able to organize itself and assert its leadership in 1989-90, it is unlikely that it could have changed the outcome of events much, consider- ing the presence of the FRG and the pull of its economic prosperity and stable political system. The well-intentioned visions of the East German opposition for a third way in an independent GDR were no match for Chancellor Kohl and his Alliance for Germany. With a massive inflow of financial assistance and personnel from the west, the FRG structures were quickly replicated in the east. In terms of free and fair elections, the pro- liferation of political parties, cabinet stability, and the relative peaceful- ness of the transition, the East German transition to procedural democracy has been a success. The exogenously managed democratization process had significant con- sequences for the development of the eastern German postcommunist po- litical legislators. Like the transformation of the political system, elite building was also heteronomous. Political self-cleansing in the east was only partially responsible for the dramatic change in the composition of the postcommunist elite. Western German political norms and procedures significantly shaped the recruitment path and selection criteria for politi- cal office. The result was a near complete replacement of elites with many persons who were completely new to politics and relatively few with 198 Transplanting Democracy political-administrative experience. While this new political elite was much more representative sociodemographically and ideologically than the old GDR leadership, they brought relatively little leadership experi- ence with them to the new state parliaments. This, coupled with the new elites’ unfamiliarity with the FRG institutions, created an opening for the inflow of “experienced democrats” from the west and for exogenous pat- terns of horizontal and vertical integration. Western influence in the eastern elite-building process was perhaps most significant in the areas of elite training and elite behavior. Special training and retraining courses for eastern elites, as well as “on-site” in- struction and consultation with imported western personnel, fostered an assimilationist pattern of elite transformation. In the transplanted democ- racy, both political neophytes and former bloc party members found a well-guided path to politics and a ready-made set of political positions with which to identify. Eastern elites operated in western-designed in- stitutions, allowing them little room for an indigenous determination of patterns of elite-elite or elite-mass relations. In sum, the mode of transi- tion, with its emphasis on institutionalization, encouraged the replication of western leadership patterns in the east, with little integration of indige- nous interests, culture, or identity. The two most common responses to this situation were, on one hand, the mimicry of western patterns and, on the other, the synthesis of eastern values and identity with the new, west- ern norms and routines. The composite character sketches of state parlia- mentarians in the introduction illustrate these most common elite re- sponses to the transplant of democracy. Recall Konrad L., who came from deep within the niche society of the GDR and was recruited to politics after the peaceful revolution of 1989 completely by chance. Although the tran- sition from GDR citizen to FRG politician was sometimes frustrating to him, he eventually “learned the ropes” of parliamentary democracy and party discipline and felt more comfortable in his new role. He recognized, however, that he could not merely ignore who he was in the GDR and the experiences he had before and during the Wende. He also recognized that, for many of his constituents, integration was far from complete. The best way to integrate them, he realized, was not to deny that specifically east- ern dimensions of culture and identity exist but to encourage people to express their preferences and to become more politically involved through activity in associations, citizens’ initiatives, and political parties. As for parliamentarians like Ulrich S., the GDR past was nothing but a burden and any recognition of specifically eastern values or identity was an ad- mission of weakness or even an illusion. It has been suggested that many 199 postcommunist elites gladly assimilated the new leadership patterns, “borrowing” or “mimicking” western elite culture with little difficulty. Moreover, for parliamentarians like Ulrich S., former bloc party member- ship provided them with some political experience which helped them make the transition to FRG politician. Beyond these two most common patterns of adaptation, others, like Birgit M., were not satisfied with the model of democracy imported from the west and viewed themselves as fighting for change and carving out an independent style of leadership in the new political institutions. Only a few postcommunist elites responded to the challenges of elite building by withdrawing from politics. Although individual elites responded differently to the pressures for assimilation to western leadership patterns, by the end of the first legisla- tive period, the postcommunist parliamentary elites had largely adapted to the new roles and routines. The same may not be said, however, of the mass public. Many easterners were not able to adapt as quickly or as thor- oughly as most elites; after a brief period of mass mobilization in the autumn of 1989, some members of the mass public became disillusioned and turned to the PDs as the advocate of eastern interests in the transition; others turned away from politics altogether, shunning political parties and elections. Several years after unification, many eastern Germans believed the distance between them and the political institutions (and the elites that represent them) had grown. The societal gap that persisted in the east revealed that elite-mass integration, as well as east-west integration had not yet been achieved. East Germany in Comparative Perspective Now ten years after the revolutions of 1989 in Eastern Europe, it might well be said that a societal gap persists everywhere: that political trust and civic participation still lag well behind levels in the west and that voters have turned to parties which promise to ease the pain of shock therapy or, worse, to demagogues who blame minorities or a “Jewish conspiracy” for the woes of common folk in the transition. People throughout the region have been confronted with unfamiliar risks of a market economy: competition, indi- vidual responsibility, and loss. For east Germans, however, the “loss” goes deeper to identity and culture. Before turning again to eastern Germany and its unique circumstances, it is useful to examine briefly the contours of the various processes of elite building in other postcommunist cases. Once the Soviet yoke was removed, the degree of differentiation within Eastern Europe became more evident. The transition processes and the 200 Transplanting Democracy consolidation of democracy have unfolded in different ways and at vary- ing speeds. Each country draws on a unique history and culture, as well as particular political, social, and economic conditions when the transition began. In contrast with East Germany, Poland experienced a “pacted” transi- tion from communism. With public frustrations growing and the threat of strikes looming, the old guard agreed to talks with Solidarity leaders. By doing so, the communists were able to preserve a role for themselves in the democratic reforms, guaranteeing themselves 65 percent of the seats in the Sejm and the newly created office of the president. Although the commu- nists fared much worse than they (and their opponents) anticipated, they nonetheless agreed to respect the results of the election—with the urging of the reform-minded Soviet leader, Mikhail Gorbachev. Unlike eastern Germany, Poland did not seriously undertake decom- munization. Although there the merits of lustration were hotly debated in the press and a brief attempt was made to cleanse (or at least expose) the political institutions of alleged former secret police informers under the Olszewski government, decommunization was not deemed a necessity. As a result, there was a great deal of elite continuity after 1990, particularly in administrative and economic institutions. The other significant political force in Polish postcommunist politics has been the opposition labor movement, Solidarity. For a number of rea- sons that are explored elsewhere,’ Solidarity quickly fragmented and re- sulted in a “war at the top”—with Solidarity leader Lech Walesa at front and center—and a weakening of postcommunist leadership. By 1993, the former communist party and its previous ally, the Peasant Party, had made significant electoral gains. In 1995, Poland elected Aleksander Kwasniew- ski, a former communist and now leader of the left-of-center Democratic Left Alliance, president. In Poland, moreover, the political parties are weak, cabinets unstable, and the executive, especially when it was under Walesa, unusually assertive as it tries to fill the political void left by weak institutions. In Czechoslovakia, the opposition umbrella group, the Civic Forum, soundly defeated the communists in the first free election in 1990. In this case too, the opposition alliance fragmented and exposed significant dif- ferences in political visions and leadership styles within the postcommu- nist elite. Like postcommunist Germany, Czechoslovakia instituted a purge of former communist officials, secret police collaborators, and mili- tia members from the new democratic institutions. The temporary (five years, initially) ban on former officials was extended in the now indepen- 201 dent Czech Republic. Despite such measures, a number of former commu- nist officials, some of whom were expelled from the party in the aftermath of the Prague Spring of 1968, have held positions in the federal and re- public governments after 1990. Civic activists, like Vaclav Havel, who later became president, play a much diminished role in Czech politics today. The technical intelligentsia, from the so-called gray zone of the old order, have more successfully adopted to the political and managerial roles needed in postcommunist environment. Specifically, a number of economists trained at the Academy of Economics in Prague have found their way to parliament and cabinet posts. These postcommunist elites, one of the best known being Vaclav Klaus, Czech prime minister until late 1997, have knowledge, skills, and “old school ties” that have helped them launch new careers in politics. Since 1993 in the Slovak Republic, former communists (such as Vladimir MeCiar, expelled from the communist party in 1970) have been relatively more prominent in politics. Romania’s transition and elite-building experience differ from all of these examples. The Ceausescu regime collapsed under very different cir- cumstances; in the last days of December 1989, mass demonstrations turned violent when police brutally responded to protesters in Timosoara and Bucharest. In what has been called a coup d’état, Nicholae Ceausescu and his wife, Elena, were executed in front of cameras following a secret “trial.” A National Salvation Front (NSF), comprised of communist appa- ratchiks who had not been in the Ceausescu inner circle (in fact, many had been banished to the boondocks of the party and state apparatus by Ceau- sescu in the past), quickly emerged to form a “provisional government.” The NSF also fragmented and, from 1992 until 1996, the Democratic Na- tional Salvation Front (DNSF) was in power, under Ion Iliescu. Democratic and market reforms occurred more slowly under the Iliescu regime than in Poland or Czechoslovakia, and elite continuity was more profound. Non- communists were unable to organize effective opposition to the NSF/DNSF until 1996, when Emil Constantinescu of the Democratic Convention won the third presidential election with 54.5 percent of the vote, marking the first real replacement of elites in Romania. In all of these cases, the personalities of particular leaders and the politi- cal battles between them have significantly shaped the evolving demo- cratic institutions. In other words, the new political structures have been shaped by the preferences of leaders and differences in societal dynamics in each postcommunist country. External factors and actors play no role in shaping the new political institutions or in directing elite development. These have been endogenously determined processes. The consequences 202 ‘Transplanting Democracy for developing public trust and encouraging political participation are difficult to determine. What is evident, however, is that the integration of the Polish, Czech, Slovak, and Romanian publics into the new political systems does not entail the identitive dimension that has complicated the east German democratization process. The issues of participation, trust, and autonomy are important to those democratization projects as well, but they do not present a dilemma of devaluing or discarding one’s previous experiences, culture, and identity. Since 1990, many eastern Germans, including psychoanalyst Hans-Joachim Maaz, wonder; Will 40 years of living in East Germany have been a total waste? Will everything we found important to our lives be lost and devalued? One really had to have lived 40 years with us to be able to empathize with someone who has saved and waited half a lifetime for a Trabi and suddenly finds that the “Mercedes economy” has made the whole thing ridiculous. We have had this chronic inferiority feeling for a long time, but now it has become acute. All former values have been lost or turned upside down. . . . How great would the “economic wonder” have to be to compensate us for everything? If all this is not worked out on an emotional level and is based only on the Deutsche mark and the “social” market economy, the disap- pointment will indeed be great. .. . Unification into a healthy whole- ness would necessarily mean bitter recognition and changes on both sides.” This dilemma has essentially made the process of elite building and demo- cratic culturalization in eastern Germany much more dramatic and, for many, more traumatic. The transplant of FRG institutions presented east- ern Germany’s new leaders and voters with shortcuts to democracy, but it has also complicated the tasks of horizontal and vertical integration in this case. In the “privileged” East German transition, the stakes of the process are higher: transformation entails not only a valuative component—attach- ment to democratic norms. It also entails an identitive component—attach- ment to the FRG. In contrast to other cases of postcommunist democratization, the acces- sion of the GDR to the FRG left very little room for experimentation with democratic institutions—or culture. The underlying assumption of the takeover approach to democratization was that, with institutional replica- tion, there would develop political cultural, or behavioral, conformity. At the nexus of institutional and cultural change, however, and at the heart of this analysis, is democratic integration. This entails people and their rela- tionship to and identification with the norms and institutions of democ- 203 racy. Through the example of the transplant of the FRG system to eastern Germany, it is clear that institution building can be directed; however, people’s values and identity cannot be easily molded. This question of political cultural transformation invites comparison with perhaps the most notable attempt to mold democracy in the twen- tieth century: the case of western Germany after World War II. The differ- ences between West Germany after the war and East Germany after com- munism may be more significant than the similarities. In 1945, Germany was a defeated country. The vanquished did not have much choice in the direction of political system developments in their occupied zones. The open society and the political structures of the FRG were essentially im- posed from the outside by the Allies.* Yet even the vanquished were per- mitted a sense of self-rule and achievement in the reconstruction of Ger- many. Peter Merk! notes that the Allies “allow[ed] for the development of political self-respect and channels of independent criticism for the Ger- man politicians” and that this “was obviously a boon to future political development.”? In the east in the late 1980s, however, there was no war. The peaceful revolution that brought down the SED regime was led from below by East German citizens, not from above by reform-minded elites or outside ac- tors. The fate of the GDR rested in the hands of East Germans, not with any occupying power. Freedom, voice, participation, and truth were the ban- ners of 1989. East Germans were euphoric and, many thought, their possi- bilities were endless. In contrast, Germans after 1945 simply wanted to return to “normalcy,” preferring to devote their attention to clearing rub- ble, not necessarily to building a new, democratic order. Yet, the political space that eastern Germans in 1989 opened up for themselves, filled with so much hope and self-confidence, began to contract in the final days of 1989, as the economic situation worsened and the political debate shifted toward unification with the West. In the unification process that followed, easterners were not equal partners. In his comparison of Allied occupation and German unification, David F. Patton observes; In comparison, the Bonn government in 1990, backed by its newly elected allies in East Berlin, tolerated the re-creation of weak East German Ldnder, the amassing of decision-making authority within the West German bureaucracy, the western acquisition of eastern property, and the massive transfer of West German elites into the new eastern administrations. These policies have neither instilled in the East Germans a sense of control over their own lot, nor have they promoted goodwill between the two regions.° 204 Transplanting Democracy With the accession of East Germany to the FRG, only the eastern society was expected to change. The experiences of eastern German political elites in the transition, such as Lothar de Maiziere, demonstrated that the east- erners were not their own masters in the transplanted system. According to de Maiziere, “The Czechs designed their new system themselves, and they feel personally responsible for both its failure and its successes. Here it is different. Everything is imposed from Bonn. Even if the end result looks better on paper, people have the sense that they were not and are not the masters of their own destiny.”® Certainly, it was not only elites who noted that easterners lacked influ- ence in the political reconstruction process. Today only 21 percent of east- erners believe the slogan “We are one people” to be true. Instead, 70 per- cent are of the opinion that they are treated as “second-class Germans.”7 These opinion data suggest that, for many eastern Germans, integration into the new institutions and culture of the FRG has not occurred. We might conclude that, in terms of perceptions of their status in the unified Germany, at least one generation of easterners is “lost.” Will the next gen- eration perceive themselves to be fully integrated into the new system? It is impossible to know the future, however most politicians and analysts conclude integration is inevitable. According to two scholars of Germany, “In our view, there is hardly any danger of two separate identities estab- lishing themselves in Germany.”® This book has already pointed to much evidence contradicting such a view, and we will return to this issue below. Assume for a moment that integration does not occur in the near future. The implications for the social harmony and, perhaps, for the political institutional stability of the unified Germany could be quite serious. We have already noted the sharp increase in right-wing violence against for- eigners inside Germany, and the victory for the right-wing Deutsche Volks- union (DVU) in Sachsen-Anhalt’s 1998 state parliamentary election sent shock waves through the established parties. Rather than bring the country together in search of solutions to the deep frustration and poor integration these incidents indicate, the result has often been to look for blame in the other side (“their impatience” or “their neglect”) and to further divide the country along west-east lines. The Rediscovery of East German Identity The most significant and widespread manifestation of poor integration has been the assertion of an eastern German identity. Public opinion data indi- cate that since unification, many easterners identify less with being Ger- 205 man than with being east German: in 1990, 66 percent felt themselves to be more German than east German (28 percent), whereas in 1995, 34 percent identified with being German and 60 percent with east German. This new assertiveness is a re-discovery of eastern identity in recent years. Those who argue that GDR identity was never particularly salient argued that the new assertiveness is not a rediscovery, but a discovery—something new (and assumably negative). Not only do I disagree with such interpreta- tions, but I believe the more important point is that, in 1989-90, euphoric 9) 66 east and west Germans declared themselves “one Germany,” “one people,” only to learn very soon after unification that many deep differences ex- isted between the two societies. Hence a discovery of these differences led to a rediscovery of separate identities. The sources for this rediscovery are multiple: it is a part of an attempt to escape present realities, a nostalgia for the past, a reaction to western cultural domination, or an assertion of local- regional pride and autonomy. For some, the rediscovery of eastern identity is a reactionary-defensive expression. In the emergency community of the GDR, easterners felt a common bond in that they were separated from “denen da oben,” from those above, the elites. This sense of “we-feeling” was context specific; it was defensive against the state and, in this sense, negatively oriented. Shortly after the collapse of the GDR, people’s rediscovery of east German identity reflected, in part, a defensive strategy for coping with the transi- tion, in which many easterners feel insecure and disoriented. Every aspect of life was affected by the transplant of new and unfamiliar rules and routines. After the initial shock of the transition, the identification with the eastern biography has also begun to reflect a realization that citizens in the two parts of unified Germany are indeed very different, due to decades of different socialization and collective experiences and due to very dif- ferent experiences and concerns in the unification process. For some, east German identity continues to be expressed as an “us versus them,” or “east versus west” sentiment. Several years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, concern about the persist- ing “wall in the minds” that separates Germans is reflected in the German media,? as well as in the non-German press’° and academe." It is now recognized that a values gap exists between easterners and westerners, with easterners putting more emphasis on equality than freedom.’ Pre- sumably, since easterners have tasted the freedom accorded by the FRG system, many now “miss” the equality provided by the old order.’* The 1990 elections in East Germany, in which western pro-unification parties prevailed, indicated that easterners wanted the economic status and polit- 206 Transplanting Democracy ical clout that west Germany apparently already had. Few bargained, how- ever, for the individual-oriented, competitive, and conflictual culture that came with those things. Many hoped for improved economic status, while at the same time, they wanted to preserve the social policies to which they had grown accustomed under state socialism (e.g., higher status of women in the workforce, reproductive rights, childcare, and the network of peer and work-related clubs and activities). On many political and economic issues, furthermore, a deep divide exists between easterners’ and westerners’ expectations and interests. On either side of this divide are the Old Politics and New Politics. Eastern Germans, like other postcommunist societies in the midst of far-reaching transitions in the economic, political, and social spheres, tend to hold more Old Politics positions, showing concern for more “classic” themes such as material security, (re)industrialization, and building up the in- frastructure, rather than New Politics concerns like environmental protec- tion, gender equality, and self-actualization.‘* The uncertainties of the transition period, especially concerning job insecurity in the reconstruc- tion of the economy, as well as unfamiliarity with new political and social arrangements, produce an entirely different set of concerns in the east than in the west. As chapter 6 described, unemployment is significantly higher in the east, and the privatization and decollectivization processes have produced particular problems for the eastern Germans. Not only have these problems led to frustration and resentment, further widening the gulf between east and west, but they have further diminished levels of political trust. Another important regional issue that has posed challenges to east-west integration concerns the treatment of the GDR past by the media, political parties, and politicians in Bonn. The harsh words directed at the PDs by (presumably western) journalists, politicians, and party campaign posters before the 1994 election were taken by many easterners to be attacks on the eastern past. To vilify former communists as “red socks” and “red-painted fascists” was to indict the communist past in general. What value, then, were easterners’ past experiences? How could western journalists or pol- iticians possibly understand what life was like in the GDR? The rallying around Brandenburg governor Manfred Stolpe in the face of charges that he had connections to the Stasi illustrates the sensitivity of this “eastern issue through western lens” problem. Some eastern Germans perceived attacks on Stolpe’s past to be attacks on their own/collective past. The gap between east and west and, particularly, between the eastern interests and identity and the western political system and culture has not 207 helped to foster system support in the new Ldnder. The style of politics transferred to the east with the new system, that of representative, parlia- mentary democracy, has not firmly taken root in the eastern public. Public opinion data, such as that presented in table 7.1, suggest that eastern sup- port for the FRG system has even declined since 1990. As German political scientist Gerd-Joachim Glaessner has observed, “Democracy is accepted (by eastern Germans) as a state form, but as a personal and collective chance for exercising influence, it is still viewed with much skepticism.”?® Earlier chapters of this book have demonstrated that active support—in terms of voting and organizational activity—has remained at levels far below expectations, and many easterners perceive that, in place of the old GDR regime, there is a new, postcommunist politi- cal class (one occupied with preserving the transferred status quo). This business-as-usual brand of politics was determined in the west by politi- cal party organizations and leaders largely unfamiliar to eastern Germans. The new eastern elites appeared as far removed from the people and their interests as the old communist elites. To some easterners, political life was again characterized by “them up there” and “us down here,” or rather, them over there (in Bonn) and us over here (in the East). What went wrong in this privileged transition? Did the elites fail? Did the public fail? It would be unfair and inaccurate to conclude either, yet it is clear that the transplant of democracy failed to recognize the importance of the societal underpinnings of political institutions and routines. The new system was not developed in the east and, in many ways, does not “fit” eastern society. The German mode of transition resulted in a situation that encouraged an elite-building process which neglected vertical elite- mass integration in favor of horizontal east-west institutional stabiliza- tion. This may occur, to some extent, in other transition cases (and, one could argue, the imbalance is also a feature of the representative democ- racies of some advanced capitalist countries), however, the east German case demonstrates the potential danger of this imbalance in the formative stages of democratization. In this sensitive time of tremendous change, elites must encourage identification with the system by giving citizens a stake in the changes—by remobilizing them to be active rather than passive supporters of the new system. In this case, rather than a gradual process of change, building on a common past and collective identity, the GDR was replaced with a new system, culture, and patterns for democratic leader- ship and citizenship. In the process, however, the GDR past was devalued and, with it, east German experiences and potential contributions to the FRG democracy. The result is an exacerbation of the GDR-era culture of 208 ‘Transplanting Democracy Table 7.1 Degree of Support for the FRG System Question: Do you think that the democracy we have in the Federal Republic is the best form of government, or is there a different form of government which is better? Percentage of eastern Germans agreeing Democracy is best There is a better Date of Survey form of government form ofgovernment Undecided Nov. 90 41 19 40 Apr. 91 31 26 43 Sep. 91 34 29 37 Dec. 92 41 20 39 Dec. 93 32 30 38 Feb. 94 31 28 41 Question: Do you think that the democracy we have in the Federal Republic is the best form of government or is there a different form which is better? Percentage of western and eastern Germans agreeing in February/March 1994 Democracy is the best There is a better form of government form ofgovernment Undecided Western Germans 76 j 9 15 Eastern Germans 31 28 41 Question: Thinking of life in Germany, would you say that our social order in its present form here in the Federal Republic is worth defending, or do you have doubts about it? Percentage of western and eastern Germans agreeing Have doubts Date of Survey Is worth defending about this Undecided Western Germans Aug. 91 72 19 9 Feb. 93 75 16 9 Dec. 93 65 24 ad Eastern Germans Aug. 91 46 35 36 Feb. 93 40 48 47 Dec. 93 36 47 17 mistrust, apoliticism, and Bevormundung, or guardianship between elites and the masses. The lesson of the east German experience is that institutionalization is a necessary, but not sufficient, element in the democratization process. In terms of integration and the consolidation of democracy, the postcommu- Table 7.1 Continued Question: Do you think socialism was a good idea that was badly implemented? Percentage of Germans agreeing Yes No Undecided Apr/May 1990 65 18 iW Aug 1991 58 27 15 March 1992 57 25 18 Dec 1992 57 24 19 Apr/May 1994 74 15 iil Question: Do you think socialism was a good idea that was badly implemented? Percentage of western and eastern Germans agreeing in April/May 1994 Yes No Undecided Western 36 45 19 Eastern 74 15 iil Source: Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann, “Changing from Dictatorship to Democracy without a Change in Journalists,” paper presented at the World Congress of the International Political Science Association, Berlin, August 21—25, 1994. nist transition raises the very important question: How does one become a capable elite or a capable citizen after the experience of communism— especially if the basis of one’s own culture and identity are questioned, if one’s past is evaluated according to unfamiliar rules, or one’s values and beliefs are measured by other cultural standards? The negative outcomes of institutional transplant without regard for political cultural traditions in the east were not completely unforeseen by west Germans, especially leftist intellectuals like Jiirgen Habermas. Habermas expressed concern about the “normative deficits of unification.” He pointed out that, after the liquidation of cultural institutions, such as the universities, museums, theater, film, and literature, and their conversion to western models, it would be impossible to rebuild these decayed cultural milieus in the same way as industrial capacities. “Once they’re gone, they’re gone for good,” warned Habermas.'® The cultural milieus of the east have not been totally liquidated, as Habermas feared; however, they have been devalued. As a result, eastern identity has been rediscovered as a response to the encroachment of west German norms and rules for behavior and the devaluation of eastern cul- ture and identity. This rediscovery can also be interpreted as a positive/ proactive development. Joyce Marie Mushaben has suggested that “the re- 210 ‘Transplanting Democracy newed search for ostdeutsche-Identitdt is one phase of a process of taking pieces of the old life—a multitude of familiar cultural norms, practices, behaviors, and tastes—and reassembling or reconfiguring them into new networks.”?” In this respect, the rediscovery of east German identity is a process of self-assertion, an expression of pride and autonomy, and a recog- nition that the east was and is different from the west. This development can be compatible with the German democratic system and, moreover, it can encourage the mobilization of eastern Germans “on their own terms,” that is, from the bottom up, not just from the top down, as had been the case during the unification process and in the rebuilding phase. As Rolf Reissig has argued. “‘Our collective- and self-confidence’ [Wir- und Selbst-be- wusstsein] is evidence that the eastern Germans have won back the ability to act [Handlungsfdhigkeit]. . . . [It] allows a new learning process to occur between east and west Germans and can become a sustainable bridge for an equal east-west integration.” The rediscovery of eastern pride and identity has been led by a number of politicians and intellectuals in the east. Although these proponents of regional pride and identity are found in every political party, the PDs has been in the forefront of the movement to restore eastern pride and Hand- lungsfdhigkeit. For that reason, this analysis has suggested, the issue of eastern identity has been highly politicized and, in many respects, been rendered taboo or unconstructive. Below, we examine how the rediscov- ery of local tastes and competence can in fact foster east-west integration. In response to the incomplete political and national-cultural integration of the east, we can identify several trends. The first two discussed here are public responses to poor integration, including an affinity for homegrown leaders and the emergence of the PDS as the advocate of eastern interests and identity. The third trend is an elite response: the slow development of more self-confident and politically assertive leadership at the Land level. Among eastern German parliamentarians, what has occurred is not neces- sarily a rediscovery of east German identity, but a more differentiated regionalization of politics focused on the Land. The Significance of Homegrown Political Leadership One of the most interesting results of the weak attachment of the eastern public to the transplanted institutions, especially the political parties, is the relatively strong attachment of easterners to Leitfiguren, or exemplary individuals. On one level, the focus on the personalities of individual politicians and the quality of political leadership rather than the party affiliation of candidates seems harmless enough, considering the lack of 211 experience with the western political parties. Moreover, one could say that eastern elites play an important role as “models” who represent the system and demonstrate its rules to citizens with little or no direct connection or personal experience with the system. Individuals are not only a source of identification where the party base is still weak. They can also be sources of political self-reliance, self-confidence, and pride. We might call this political efficacy by association: the idea that if one of ours can do it, then maybe we can too. In another significant respect, the attachment to homegrown figures (like the rediscovery of eastern identity) suggests the growing importance of reflecting eastern culture, identity, and interests in the transition. Where the institutions are not homegrown, it is important that the elites are. Elites who identify with the GDR past, who do not devalue all of the relationships and norms of the past, and who seek to articulate the con- cerns of easterners in the transition, are particularly popular. There may be cause for concern, however, if easterners identify with individuals, particularly authoritative or populist leaders, rather than with institutions. An attachment to personalities may obscure the past and present behaviors of individuals. Because she is “one of us,” she can do no wrong. Or if she has done wrong, “we forgive her because she is one of us.” The unfailing (in fact, increased) loyalty to Manfred Stolpe in the east despite (perhaps due to) the evidence that he had contact with the Stasi in the GDR is relevant here. Brandenburg politician Regine Hildebrandt has also come under suspicion for wrongdoing in office (involving state con- tracts allegedly awarded to Hildebrandt’s friends), and her popularity among the people appears unshaken. Rather than being an asset for de- veloping a self-confident electorate, the attachment to individuals might also reflect a defensive response to the inflow of unfamiliar rules, routines, and faces. Moreover, the tendencies to expect strong paternalistic leadership and state-guaranteed security remain features of the political beliefs of many easterners. We might also say that politics is still elite-directed rather than elite-directing, in that the flow of communication is still largely from elites to masses. These features of eastern political culture, one could argue, have been preserved, or exacerbated, by the takeover. The PDs as advocate of eastern German interests. In this context, the re- emergence of the PDS must be seen as a consequence of the failure of the established western parties to integrate many easterners. The established parties, whose programs and organizational styles generally have been formulated by westerners in response to experiences in the Federal Re- 212 Transplanting Democracy public over four decades, have avoided addressing particular eastern concerns—presumably in an effort to encourage domestic unity. In doing so, they have inadvertently conceded important integration functions to the pps. In contrast to “inorganic” parties, the PDS claims to be a truly independent voice with no western partner or transfer personnel in its party organization (though in the Bundestag there are now several west- erners elected on the PDs list). Rather than a sign of nostalgia for the old state socialist system, electoral support for the PDs can be interpreted as an expression of eastern frustration with particular aspects of the institu- tional takeover by the west and as an assertion of eastern identity.19 The PDs openly and loudly proclaims its eastern identity. It laments the loss of some of the advantages of the GDR. Though it uses the language and symbols of participatory democracy, it must be pointed out that the PDs has been able to take bold positions because it has been free from the constraints and responsibilities of a governing party. The mobilization potential of the pps has been aided significantly by the organizational structure it inherited from the SED, including old organizational ties and constituencies. Having said this, it is nonetheless clear that the PDs indi- rectly pressures the established parties to pay more attention to eastern interests and to be more inclusive of indigenous personnel in their leader- ship structures. Easterners have played a marginal role in national politics since 1990. With the exception of Wolfgang Thierse, who was elected president of the Bundestag in October 1998, easterners play a small role in the leadership of the political parties or in the federal cabinet (where their number fell from three ministers in 1990 to only one remaining after 1994; there is still only one eastern minister in the new SPD—Alliance 90/Greens coalition led by Gerhard Schréder). The relative exclusion of eastern Germans from positions of leadership in the political institutions of the FRG has done little to improve easterners’ identification with the system or to increase their perceptions of their political efficacy. In fact, their near exclusion from leadership positions rather sends a message about the political status of easterners. The relative weakness of eastern elites in western institu- tions is a problem that the PDs has capitalized on in a number of ways. In addition to openly criticizing the lack of eastern influence in national po- litical institutions, PDs leader Gysi even went as far as calling for a special East Chamber at the national level, in which easterners would have veto power over any issue affecting the east. The pps leadership has worked hard to increase the visibility of the party in national politics, flaunting its easternness and complaining about the devaluation of eastern virtues. 213 The PDs carved a niche for itself in the 1994 election year. It successfully presented itself as the sole advocate of eastern interests in a field of politi- cal parties whose programs and positions predated unification and con- tinue to fail to address the existence of particular eastern problems, experi- ences, and identity. It is important to note here that though one-fifth of those who voted in the east in the 1994 Bundestag election gave their support to the PDs, this amounted to only 10 percent of the eligible elector- ate. Between 42 and 45 percent (depending on which state) of the eligible electorate did not even turn out to vote. Thus, we can conclude, well over half of the eastern German electorate did not feel represented by the par- ties and party system developed and dominated by the west.”° In united Germany’s third federal election, held on September 27, 1998, the pps further improved its electoral performance in the east. Its share of the eastern vote climbed from 19.8 percent in 1994 to 21 percent. Most important for the PDs, it received more than 5 percent of the votes nation- wide and gained full status as a minority party in the Bundestag. By con- trast, the CDU’s share of the eastern vote plummeted, from 38.5 percent in 1994 to 28.1 percent. In terms of the inclusiveness of the FRG institutions of easterners, on one hand, and the identification of easterners with the transplanted in- stitutions, on the other, it is clear that several years after unification, inte- gration is far from complete. Unless the other established parties respond to eastern needs—both of a “subjective” as well as “objective” nature, the PDS will likely remain a feature in the east. These developments point to the need to give greater attention to the importance of Ostprofil and cultural competence. Cultural competence suggests the recognition of the eastern German past, or biography, and the existence of particular eastern German interests that may not necessarily always be met by established western political routines and symbols. In other words, cultural competence acknowledges that, despite the many advantages of Germany’s compressed democratization and elite-building experience, addressing eastern interests often requires special sensitivity, knowledge, and even ways of communicating. Political Competence and Confidence: Greater Elite Independence in the New Lander This study assumes that the new eastern state parliamentarians play a significant role in the integration process. Their experiences in the new system have implications for the functioning of the transplanted system, 214 Transplanting Democracy and their performance of elite functions can greatly affect the level of public identification with the system. Faced with the ready-made institu- tions and political leadership patterns, the first generation of postcommu- nist elites in the east focused disproportionately on parliamentary work over constituency work. These elites were preoccupied with the chal- lenges of constructing new parliaments, creating state constitutions, re- forming regional and local administration, and passing legislation to bring governments and bureaucracies in new eastern states into line with those of old western states. The real and perceived pressures to catch up to western standards of political performance contributed to some new elites’ initial preoccupation with fitting into the new institutions. At first, elite development emphasized professionalization and, essentially, con- formity, rather than trying to imprint politics with local and regional cul- ture. Few elites wanted to call attention to particularly eastern problems or interests. Gradually, however, a number of elites have begun to realize that the replication of western patterns of political relations was not adequate for integrating the eastern public into the new order. Although eastern elites were not been able to modify the institutions of FRG democracy to any great degree, there were indications that they began to shape the infor- mal rules that guide the institutions, as well as foster a sense of regional pride and identity. Though the elites advanced gingerly at first, they have increasingly come to recognize the importance of holding onto, or perhaps rediscovering, an “eastern” orientation in their core values, outlooks, and critiques of the transplanted system and of incorporating that eastern ori- entation into their leadership style and relations with their constituents. With time, uncertainty about professional competence has begun to fade, and easterners have started to look less and less to the west for direction. With experience, legislators have gained confidence about their own abil- ity to formulate positions and contribute to the political process. There are some postcommunist elites in the new Lander who have be- gun to foster this type of integration. While there are many who, like de Maiziere, quoted above, express helplessness and resignation, there are an increasing number who demonstrate a sense of confidence in the east and a desire for greater regional, or local, autonomy. Reinhard Héppner, gover- nor of Sachsen-Anhalt, is one example of this new, more assertive eastern elite. According to Héppner, “In the new states, we don’t have to copy all the clichés and age-old political models of the West.”*1 “We are listening carefully to external opinion, but we make policy for our state and in our Staten<2 The logic of the German mode of transition was that elite integration would yield vertical integration following the western model—that it 215 would produce a polity and a leadership pattern that mirrors the west. The first generation of political elites in the east was consumed with emulating western political institutions and with developing political competence. Yet, as this study has shown, competence entails more than skills: it also has a cultural component. Now that the transition is largely over in terms of institutionalization, eastern elites can concentrate on matters closer to home. The postcommunist state parliamentarians will have to focus atten- tion on vertical integration and, specifically, on constituency work. In order to better link the public with the new institutions, they must better perform the aggregation and mobilization roles described in chapter 6. Slowly, eastern German political leaders have begun to act increasingly independently of Bonn, reflecting both a growing confidence in their own abilities and a recognition of the need to address more directly and effec- tively particular eastern interests. Compared to the eastern elites of the early transition period, there are signs that leadership in the east is gaining confidence in their abilities and a more discerning attitude toward Bonn- directed politics. The unification elites, such as Lothar de Maiziere, may have felt a certain powerlessness in the throes of the transplant of the western system. With a few years of experience behind them, the post- unification elites have matured politically: they have “tested the west” and found that it does not necessarily always fit local circumstances, and they are now ready and able to take political responsibility. This often requires taking independent positions. This independence was most evi- dent in regard to the established parties’ relations with the PDs. At the national level, the CDU is unequivocally opposed to dialogue with the pps. The spp leadership is more divided on the issue, with former party leader Rudolf Scharping squarely opposed, and his successor Oskar Lafontaine in favor of at least talking with the pps and keeping the party’s options open for future relations with the PDs at the state level. The first glaring example of eastern state party leadership’s independence from Bonn was in Sachsen-Anhalt in 1994. There, after the state elections, the SPD and Greens formed a minority coalition with the toleration of the pbs. While this outcome caused the west branch of the CDU to rave about “red-painted fascists” and the spD leadership to split even further, many easterners saw this as a possible model for future coalition building in the east. Four years later, in Sachsen-Anhalt’s third state parliamentary election, the SPD won 35.9 percent of the vote. This time the Alliance 90/Greens received only 3.2 percent of the vote, giving it no seats in the Landtag. As a result, the toleration of the PDs once again enabled the SPD in Sachsen-Anhalt to form a minority coalition. Since the Magdeburger Modell made its debut in 1994, it has been 216 Transplanting Democracy touted by some eastern SPD leaders as a possibility in two other eastern states—Mecklenburg-Vorpommern and Thiiringen. The September 1998 state parliamentary election in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, however, took cooperation with the PDs a step further; after weeks of deliberation and coalition talks, the sPD in that Land became the first to form a coalition government with the PDs. With this step, the Schweriner Modell, named for the capital of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, represents a bold innovation to postunification state politics. These examples show that, in the eastern states of Germany, a new re- gional elite is developing—one that openly expresses its appreciation of particular eastern and, more specifically, regional concerns. It must be noted that some of the westerners who have gone east also articulate a need for more indigenous input and autonomy. Richard Dewes in Meck- lenburg-Vorpommern and Kurt Biedenkopf in Sachsen are two examples. These elites express a willingness to identify with the eastern biography and to make it part of their political-professional identity. The integration of elements of indigenous style and experience in the western institutions is likely to be most evident at the local level of poli- tics. Local political elites have more opportunities to interact with constit- uents, giving elites more exposure to people’s interests. Local elites also have more freedom to “imprint” the institutions and policies with their own style and culture, because they are farther away from Bonn and have less direct contact with western personnel and the western political style. It is likely that greater elite independence at the local and regional levels of politics will result in efforts to modify party programs and mobilization strategies in order to better reflect the political norms and behavioral styles of the eastern German public. Consequences of Unification for German Democracy Debates that were initially muted or suspended by unification have slowly begun to resurface in German national politics. These debates focus on the indistinguishability of the main political parties, the proper role of parties in German democracy, the possibility of participation outside of the par- ties, and the preferred pattern of elite-mass relations in German democ- racy. Essentially, these issues touch upon whether representative democ- racy is the most appropriate form of democracy for Germany, or whether a more participatory democracy is desirable. The debates were already burning in West Germany but were overshadowed by the excitement, and then the costs, of German unification. However, the lingering reformist 217 sentiments of the eastern German civic movements have been magnified by the poor integration of the east. The problems of transferring a model of democracy to the east ulti- mately rekindles the debate over the form and substance of German de- mocracy. For some years before unification, the merits of the party state and the political class for German democracy were debated in West Ger- man political science journals and editorial pages.” One of the most re- cent versions of this debate heated up in the election year 1994 around the process of electing the federal president. At issue was the possibility of more direct citizen participation in choosing political leaders. This debate was joined by critics of “politics as usual” in the east, including Gregor Gysi and Jens Reich (the Alliance 90/Greens candidate for federal presi- dent), who viewed the current system for electing the federal president as inadequate for incorporating easterners into the political system. Critics also argued that the highly partisan process of promoting candidates for the presidency and the electoral college—like method of choosing among the candidates is more conducive to symbolic politics and partisan ma- neuvering than choosing a person favored by the public.** According to one survey, 91 percent of the eastern public (compared to 77 percent of the western public) favored direct election of the president over the present nomination system.”° These debates focus on the role of political leadership and the relation- ship between the elites and the mass public. Moving beyond debate to actual reform, however, is another matter and requires changes to the Ba- sic Law. Amendments to the Basic Law have been resisted, as evident from the fact that unification proceeded through Article 23 and from the refusal of a Joint Bundestag-Bundesrat Committee on the Constitution to accept any proposals for constitutional amendments. Many eastern elites and western members of the SPD and Greens involved in the debate have fa- vored the enactment of a number of reforms including the introduction of elements of plebiscitarian decision making; the explicit mention of basic rights in the constitution, such as equality between men and women as well as the guarantee of equivalence of living conditions; mention in the constitution of environmental protection as a state objective; and the strengthening of local government.”° Eventually the Basic Law may have to be modified to reflect eastern and changing western attitudes toward the substance of German democracy. The substance of German politics is also likely to be affected by the move of the German capital from Bonn to Berlin. Its geographic location in the east means that political leaders will be closer to the everyday prob- 218 Transplanting Democracy lems and concerns of easterners. Politicians from Hamburg, Diisseldorf, and Munich will be exposed to the social impact of economic restructur- ing. The shifting of the stage of national politics to the east is likely to have the effects of greater sensitivity toward eastern German interests, with more inclusion of easterners in the leadership positions at the national level of politics. The move of the capital sends a signal that the eastern states are not mere satellites of the FRG. As a result, easterners may be more likely to perceive themselves as subjects of unified politics rather than as distant objects, or strangers to the norms and procedures of demo- cratic governance. For the neue Bundesbiirger, the shift of the center of the new Germany eastward to Berlin means that the FRG has changed as a result of their presence. The move of the German capital not only provides Germans with an opportunity to address integration—both horizontally (east-west, not just west-east) and vertically. Facing Berlin also means facing the past. The apprehensions of Germans—east and west—and non-Germans, in particu- lar, surrounding the choice of Berlin as the new capital were understand- able in light of the terror and abuses of power that were perpetrated in that city in the past. Though the significance of this city as a former German capital must not be downplayed, the Berlin Republic will not be the Wil- helminian, Weimar, Nazi, or state socialist Germanies of the past. How- ever, the Berlin Republic will not be the Bonn Republic either. Institutional Modifications? Although political parties initially played an important role in fostering institutional and cultural harmonization with the west, they increasingly faced the problem that the western platforms and mobilization strategies did not fit eastern political interests and political culture. While this is not the focus of this study, it is useful to briefly examine developments within the various political parties since 1990. Parties like the Fpp and Alliance 90/Greens have little chance of adjusting their programs to address eastern interests: as parties representing “the better earners” and postmaterialist interests, respectively, the parties simply have little or no constituency in the east. The catch-all parties, the CDU and SPD, are the most likely parties to feel pressure to adjust somewhat to the interests and demands of east- erners. Both of the large parties may find that if they do not adjust their own party programs and identities, the “party of nonvoters” will grow, or they will be outrepresented by the pps. The prominent eastern German member of the Bundestag (SPD), Wolfgang Thierse, recognizes this problem 219 when he warns, “We have to create an atmosphere where East Germans are not asked to see everything in their former lives as false. If the SPD does not work on this, the feeling of the diminished value of their lives will drive people to the pDs.“?” Moreover, the profile of PDs voters clearly indicates that it is not a party of “losers of unification,” but rather comprises social groups who are potential voters for mainstream parties. In addition to addressing the interests of eastern Germans in their pro- grams and platforms, the mainstream parties will likely need to reevaluate their mobilization strategies in the east. The weakness of the party bases in the east after several years of unification and the electoral successes of the PDS in 1994 and 1998 point to the need to shift the locus of mobilization to local levels. The anti-institutional, specifically antiparty, bias in the east following forty years of state socialism makes a top-down, highly cen- tralized mobilization strategy inappropriate for encouraging passive or active support of the new system. As in the GDR, the result of top-down mobilization may be the opposite—the public may recoil from politics and take refuge in privatism. The weak mobilization potential of the political parties in the east suggests that the organization of, and style of leadership within, the political parties may require some adjustment if they are to encourage trust and identification. Beyond the political parties themselves, the political party system has been altered as a result of unification. It has become more apparent that there is a unique three-party system developing in the east. The eastern party system, despite the intention to replicate the western system, is distinguishable from the west by its three largest parties—CDU, SPD, and pps. Assuming the established parties do not begin to more boldly address eastern interests and identity, it will be necessary to make room for the PDS as a legitimate democratic party and as a permanent part of the political spectrum. Indeed, the PDs already staked its claim as a “left alternative” on the new Germany’s political spectrum. Related to the unintended changes to the party system in the east, uni- fication has also introduced new possibilities for coalition-building equa- tions at the various levels of government. At the national level, coalition politics have also changed. Before unification, the West German Greens, who were sharply divided between a pragmatic wing, the Realos, and a fundamentalist-antipolitics wing, the Fundis, were already working their way toward the Realos-backed goal of power-sharing as a potential coali- tion partner of the spp at local and state levels of government. After the Greens merged with the Alliance 90 in 1992, the party moved steadily to- ward the center of the political spectrum. Meanwhile, the FpP suffered seri- 220 ‘Transplanting Democracy ous setbacks in the 1994 elections, failing to gain enough votes in the east to be represented in any of the state parliaments. The FDP appeared to be losing its traditional “pivotal” vote, swinging back and forth between co- alitions with the spp and CDU. No longer was it the only possibility for co- alition partnership with either of the two largest parties. Meanwhile, there was new speculation that the Alliance 90/Greens might assume the pivotal role between the parties at the federal level, with the most likely coalition combination a “red-green” one, between the spD and Alliance 90/Greens. Indeed, the 1998 federal elections removed the long-time CDU/CSU-FDP coalition from power and heralded in the first spD-Alliance 90/Greens government at the national level. Finally, the most controversial addition to the coalition politics is the PDS. Its status in the east has made two new coalition models possible at the state level: the Magdeburg and Schwerin models. Regionalism Reinvigorated One of the most interesting outcomes of German unification is the rein- vigoration of regionalism in that country. Despite the initial institutional pull toward a more centralized and uniform Germany, a likely conse- quence of unification will be further political cultural pluralism and di- versity. Rather than fading away in favor of a unified German political culture and identity, a gradual process of regional differentiation has be- gun, allowing for more decentralized and autonomous political activity and problem solving. The national level of politics and the western- dominated Bundestag are too distant and too unfamiliar to most eastern Germans to provide an adequate locus of political activity and identity formation. Though this applies to people in most systems, it is especially true for eastern Germans whose national leadership and institutions shifted from East Berlin to Bonn practically overnight. For eastern Ger- mans, the regional level of political identification provides a more famil- iar, accessible, and practical forum for articulating their interests and for translating their problems into political solutions. The development of strong regional identities and political cultures can be positive, in that it encourages self-help and pride. Tackling problems locally can build confi- dence. Moreover, taking responsibility and having a stake in the system are important to the development of attitudes and behaviors that support democracy. Local and regional identity can represent an important vehicle for interest aggregation and articulation. In sum, eastern and regional par- ticularisms are a legitimate component of democratic political culture. 221 They need not undermine the stability or effectiveness of the national political order. In fact, the democratic and federal system of unified Ger- many can accommodate eastern regional differences within the political cultural and institutional framework of the German political system. In a transition process directed from the west and largely implemented by western policymakers, administrators, and business managers, region- alism assumes particular significance. The importance of regional auton- omy and identity was illustrated in early May 1996 when the referendum on the fusion of Brandenburg and Berlin failed. As mentioned in the intro- duction, the voters in Brandenburg and the former East Berlin blocked a proposal to fuse the two states. From the Brandenburgers’ point of view, the refusal can be interpreted as an effort to preserve the government and political subculture of the region. Rather than meld with a large, well- established western state and risk losing its indigenous political culture, Brandenburgers chose to “go it alone” and preserve a degree of autonomy from the west. The refusal of the eastern Berliners further suggests the perception that eastern identity would have been compromised by the fusion, opening the door further for western domination.”® Now that the transplant of the FRG system in the east is complete, it is likely that particular regional interests and political values and behaviors will modify the imported institutions to better fit local contexts. The un- derlying assumption of the transplant of the West German system to the east was that the eastern political culture would mold to the western in- stitutions. That assumption was misguided, because political cultural change is a gradual process and, moreover, political culture and political institutions are mutually reinforcing. After forty years of division, eastern and western values and interests may be different enough to prevent the development of a uniform political culture. Acculturation that does not replicate western German leadership and society, but rather synthesizes aspects of east and west, is not necessarily inimical to the consolidation of democracy. It may be the natural culmination of the experiences of two different societies. Regionalization is certainly not limited to postunification Germany. It is a European trend, both in the West and postcommunist East. In formerly communist countries, peoples are rediscovering old ties and identities— some of a national character, others of a more local-regional nature. This regionalization is a result of the liberation from state socialism and, specif- ically, the imposed communist identity that sought to unify and collectiv- ize, not allowing for particularistic, ethnic, religious, or other levels of identification or political mobilization. Now the centralizing and homoge- 222 Transplanting Democracy nizing institutional framework and culture imposed by the Soviet Union are gone. Differences are free to develop. Some cases have developed in extremely fractious and violent ways, as in the former Yugoslavia and parts of the former USSR. Other splits have been less volatile, such as Czechoslovakia’s “velvet divorce.” In eastern Germany, people have been “freed” to rejoin their western half. However, most eastern Germans are too young to have a personal connection to the west. They grew up in the GDR, knowing no other way of life. It is likely that many east Germans (ex- cluding supporters of the extreme right) have grown tired of the notions of “brotherhood” and sameness that national identity implies. Added to this, the lack of familiarity with the west German political system, parties, and institutions of representation makes the development of a unified, homo- geneous political culture and identity illusory. The common ground for a German national identity is fragile. Regionalism can provide a vehicle for inclusion and, thus, for integration by encouraging local activity and iden- tity as a component of national membership. In a transformation process that has been exogenously managed, regionalization offers more endoge- nous sources of identification, as well as solutions. The development of a regional or Land parliamentary elite is a positive step in the process of integrating eastern Germans into the FRG system of democracy. This new elite has the potential to play a unique role in the transition to democracy: as a bridge between eastern society and the transplanted system. Appendix A: The Interview Study I. Members of the Landtage Interviewed for the Study Potsdam, Brandenburg, 1994 (39 out of 88 members) Alliance 90/Greens Giinter Nooke, Fraktion chair Matthias Platzeck, also minister of the environment Wolfgang Pohl Rolf Wettstadt Christian Democratic Union Beate Blechinger Martin Habermann Dieter Helm, Fraktion chair Karl-Heinz Kretschmer Martina Schlanke Dr. Peter Wagner Free Democratic Party Siegfried Lietzmann, Fraktion chair Alfred Pracht Party of Democratic Socialism Hannelore Birkholz Prof. Lothar Bisky, Fraktion chair Christel Fiebiger Harald Petzold Dr. Helmut Markov Prof. Michael Schumann Gerlinde Stobrawa Margot Theben 224 AppendixA Social Democratic Party Wolfgang Birthler, Fraktion chair Dr. Fritz Grunert Regine Hildebrandt, also minister for employment, health, and social and women’s issues Dr. Siegfried Jausch Wolfgang Klein Lothar Kliesch Dr. Herbert Knoblich, president of the Landtag Klaus-Dietrich Kriiger Andreas Kuhnert Peter Muschalla Dr. Giinter Neumeister Siegfried von Rabenau Stefan Reiche Britta Schellin Reinhild Schildhauer-Gaffrey Christoph Schulze Dr. Karsten Wiebke Alwin Ziel, also minister of the interior Erwin Zimmermann, also minister of agriculture Potsdam, Brandenburg, 1997 (17 out of 88 members) Christian Democratic Union Dr. Wolfgang Hackel Dieter Helm Rainer Neumann Party of Democratic Socialism Prof. Lothar Bisky, Fraktion chair Christel Fiebiger Kertin Osten Harald Petzold Social Democratic Party Wolfgang Birthler, Fraktion chair Martina Gregor Dr. Fritz Grunert Dr. Werner Kallenbach Heidemarie Konzack Dr. Klaus-Dietrich Kriiger Andreas Kuhnert Peter Muschalla Steffen Reiche, also minister for science, research, and culture Dagmar Ziegler Schwerin, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, 1997 (15 out of 71 members) Christian Democratic Union Michael Notzel 225 Eckhardt Rehberg, Fraktion chair Prof. Hans-Jiirgen Zobel Social Democratic Party Siegfried Friese Sigrid Keler, also minister of finance Dr. Harald Ringstorff Dr. Gottfried Timm, Fraktion chair Party of Democratic Socialism Dr. Gerhard Bartels Andreas Bluhm Gerd Bottger Angelika Gramkow Helmut Holter Annegrit Koburger Caterina Muth, Fraktion chair Prof. Gerhard Poppei Erfurt, Thiiringen, 1997 (15 out of 88 members) Christian Democratic Union Detlev Braasch Johanna K6hler Christiane Lieberknecht Jorg Schwablein Harald Stauch Werner Ulbrich Gert Wunderlich Christiane Zitzmann Social Democratic Party Dagmar Becker Heiko Gentzel Dr. Christine Ursula Klaus Frieder Lippmann, Fraktion chair Party of Democratic Socialism Peter Dietl Dr. Birgit Klaubert, Fraktion chair Christiane Neudert II. Sample Questionnaire: English version, abbreviated Background Questions (closed) 1. Social Background a. Age b. Sex c. Place of birth 226 Appendix A 6. . Education a. Formal occupation b. Level of education c. Subjects studied . Past political involvement a. Membership in SED or blockparty b. Extent of party involvement (number of years, organizations, posts) c. Involvement in grassroots or opposition groups: peace or ecology . Past ties to the West/FRG a. Travel abroad b. Relatives in West Germany c. Past perception of the West, through Tv, own experience, official view . Religion a. Member of a church or religious organization b. Level of involvement in activities, attachment to traditions Role in/participation in events of 1989 a. Member of a citizens’ group or new political party? When? If left, when and why? b. Participation in demonstrations (where), public debate? What issues were im- portant to you, motivated your participation? . Political recruitment/career path 8. Training a. Previous political experience b. Travel to West Germany for training c. On-the-job (learn by doing), or instruction (learn by example/mandate) Perception of Own Role in Transition Process (open-ended) 1. Do you consider yourself to be a politician, or member of the political elite? Do you intend to stay involved in politics, or is your interest mainly in the transition period? How important is past political leadership experience? Do you believe there is also place for GDR-era bureaucrats or SED members in the new regional and local governments? How valuable is the development of a “new” or “clean” elite? Is this possible, preferable? Do you believe it is desired by the eastern German public? How do you see your own role in the transition to democracy? Do you believe you can influence decision-making? What is your potential contribution to the transition? What is the status of eastern German political actors in general? a. Is it more or less equal to that of western political actors at the federal level? At the Land level? At the local level? b. Is there a status difference between western and eastern political actors within your own ministry/organization? Orientation to Mode of Transition i Which mode of transition would you have preferred, Art. 23 or Art. 146 [of German constitution], or an alternative route? 2s 227 In general, do you believe the transition process has been implemented in a practical, fair, positive way? In what ways could the implementation of the political transition process have been improved? Has the chosen mode of transition, accession to the institutions and norms of the FRG, allowed for eastern German contributions? How/what can eastern Germans bring to the new Germany? Orientation to Democracy Als 10. What elements should be preserved out of the GDR experience, in terms of the social and economic order? What “new” values, ideas, and policies would you most like to build into the new, developing, shared German political culture? Is there a difference between the “political style” or approach (way of getting things done) between westerners and easterners that you have observed in your ministry/workplace? What are they? Is Germany a “representative democracy”? Is Germany a “participatory de- mocracy”? What particularly “eastern” values or interests, if any, do you believe need to be articulated, or are not adequately addressed/understood by western politicians? What “eastern” values, traits, or interests do you feel you represent and articu- late? Where do you place yourself on a left-right scale? How serious is the withdrawal, disinterest of eastern Germans from politics? Has this situation improved or worsened in the last year? Why? How can/do you and other political leaders help change this situation? What needs to be done to make political institutions and leaders more “legitimate” in the eyes of the public? What can be done to increase public interest and political participation? What is the nature of the oft-cited KJuft [division] between eastern and west- ern Germans? What can/do you do to bridge the KJuft between east and west? Political Identity iL, Is it important/necessary to retain an East German identity in unified Ger- many? Why? How is this important or necessary? What are the dimensions ofa particularly East German identity? Do you consider yourself first and foremost a Brandenburger (Mecklenburg- Vorpommeranian or Thiiringer), an East German, a German, or a European? How important is national pride and identity? Regional pride and identity? European identity? How to cultivate it? Appendix B: Political Parties before and after German Unification Pre-unification Parties in West Germany Christlich Demokratische Union (cbDU), Christian Democratic Union. Center-right party and one of two dominant parties in the Federal Republic. Christlich-Soziale Union (csv), Christian Social Union. The Bavarian affiliate of the CDU. Freie Demokratische Partei (FDP), Free Democratic Party. Liberal party and impor- tant coalition partner at the national level of politics. Deutsche Volksunion (Dvu), German People’s Union. Right-wing extremist party established in 1987. die Griinen, Greens. Environmentalist party founded in the late seventies. die Republikaner, Republicans. Right-wing party founded in the early eighties. Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands (SPD), Social Democratic Party. Center- left party and one of the two dominant parties. Pre-unification Parties in East Germany Christlich Demokratische Union (cDU), Christian Democratic Union. Conservative- Christian bloc party aligned with the SED. Demokratischer Aufbruch (DA), Democratic Awakening. Grew out of the civic movement during the autumn of 1989 and quickly became a political party. Demokratische Bauernpartei Deutschlands (DBD), Democratic Farmers’ Party. Peas- ants’ bloc party. Deutsche Soziale Union (Dsu), German Social Union. New center-right, sister party of the West German CSU. Griine Partei, Green Party. A small party established in the autumn of 1989. Liberaldemokratische Partei Deutschlands (LDPD), Liberal Democratic Party of Ger- many. Bloc party formed by former Liberals in the Soviet zone of occupation. 230 Appendix B Nationaldemokratische Partei Deutschlands (NDPD), National Democratic Party. Nationalist bloc party. Sozialdemokratische Partei (SDP), Social Democratic Party. Founded by East Ger- man citizens in October 1989. Changed name to SPD in early 1990. Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands (SED), Socialist Unity Party. Communist party of the German Democratic Republic. Added suffix Partei des Demokrati- schen Sozialismus (PDs), Party of Democratic Socialism, to name in late 1989; dropped SED two months later. Political Parties in Unified Germany Biindnis 90/Griinen, Alliance 90/Greens. The West German Greens and several eastern civic movements (together called Alliance 90) merged in 1993. Christlich Demokratische Union (cpu), Christian Democratic Union. The West-CDU absorbed the East-CDU, DBD, and DA in October 1990. Christlich-Soziale Union, Christian Social Union. Freie Demokratische Partei (FDP), Free Democratic Party. The West-FpP absorbed the LDPD and NDPD in August 1990. Deutsche Volksunion (DvU), German People’s Union. Deutsche Soziale Union (psu), German Social Union. Partei des Demokratischen Sozialismus (PDs), Party of Democratic Socialism. die Republikaner, Republicans. Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands (spb), Social Democratic Party. The East-SPD joined the West-SPD in September 1990. Appendix C: Civic Groups in the GDR in 1989 The three most visible civic groups in the fall of 1989 in the GDR were the Neues Forum, Demokzatie Jetzt!, and Demokratischer Aufbruch. There were many smaller groups founded in the last months of 1989; however, I have only named several.! Neues Forum, New Forum was the most important of the opposition groups formed in the fall of 1989. It was the symbol of change and rebellion and had the largest following. New Forum was founded on September 9, 1989, by thirty activists, mainly of church groups, including people such as the painter Barbel Bohley; dissi- dent Robert Havemann’s widow, Katja Havemann; Rolf Henrich, who had been banned from the SED after writing Der vormundschaftliche Staat, a book critical of the regime; the physicist Sebastian Pflugbeil; and the molecular biologist (and later, in 1994, a candidate for the presidency of unified Germany) Jens Reich. The founding platform of New Forum illustrates the focus on open dialogue of issues affecting all citizens of the GDR: “[I|f general interests are to be distinguished from particular interests then we need a democratic dialogue about the role of the rule of law, the economy and culture. We must think and talk about these questions publicly across the length and breadth of the country... . To this end, we hereby found a political platform for the whole GDR which enables people irrespective of profession, background, party or group to participate in the discussion of matters vital to GDR society. We have given this overarching initiative the name ‘New Forum.’ ”? Their goal was to find a civic, nonviolent, and transideological space for citizen involvement in the affairs of the country. From the start, New Forum was organizationally overwhelmed by the number of followers it attracted (in October 1989 around 200,000 people had signed on) and the number of issues it tackled. For a while improvisation seemed to work, but eventually disagreements among New Forum leaders concerning goals and the direction of the civic group’s development weakened its effectiveness and caused irreparable rifts. 232 Appendix C Demokratie Jetzt, Democracy Now, was founded on September 12, 1989, by Ulrike Poppe, a cofounder of the group Frauen fiir den Frieden; church historian Wolfgang Ullmann; physicist Hans-Jiirgen Fischbeck; and the director Konrad Weiss. This group was formed from the two opposition groups the Initiative Frieden und Men- schenrechte (IFM) and the Initiative fiir Absage an Praxis und Prinzip der Abgren- zung. Participation in Democracy Now was particularly strong among East Berlin intellectuals, civil rights activists, and well-known pastors. The founding statement of this group, titled “Appeal to Involvement in One’s Internal Affairs,” clearly reflects the role of citizen participation and focused atten- tion on “democratic transformation” of the GDR. The accountability of elites, con- cern for environmental issues, and a preservation of the positive achievements of East German society are evident as well: “Our proposals aim to secure peace in our borders and thereby to serve the cause of peace beyond these borders. We want to help create a society based on solidarity and to democratize all spheres of life. At the same time we must find a new relationship as partners of our natural environ- ment. We want to develop socialism further beyond the statism in which it has become locked so that it can meet the challenges of the future. We want to replace a custodial state ruled by a party which has elevated itself to a position of governor and schoolmaster of the people with a state based on the basic consensus of society which is accountable to society and therefore becomes a public matter (res publica) for active citizens. Proven social achievements should not be jeopardized by any reform program. ”? Demokratischer Aufbruch, Democratic Awakening, was another opposition group active in the civic revolution. The founding members of this group were largely church members, including the pastor Rainer Eppelmann (later the last defense minister of the GDR); the Weimar theologian Edelbert Richter; and Erhart Neubert, the official of the League of Evangelical Churches in Berlin. Wolfgang Schnur, a lawyer, was another founding member, though later he was found to have been employed by the Stasi. This group was formed as an “initiative” in June of 1989 and, due to dissatisfaction of its members with the informal structure of opposition movements, became a party in October of the same year. Initiative Frieden und Menschenrechte, Initiative for Peace and Human Rights, was begun in Berlin in 1985 as a human rights seminar; the IFM was refounded in the fall of 1989 and evolved into a civic group. Among its previous members were many of the civic activists who went on to found the above-mentioned civic groups. Griine Partei, the Green Party of the GDR, was founded on November 24, 1989 in Berlin. Unabhdngiger Frauenverbund, the Independent Women’s Association, was founded in Berlin on December 3, 1989, by several academics in that city. It eventually attracted thousands of women. Vereinigte Linke, United Left, a civic group, was organized in September 1989 as a leftist opposition to the Stalinist-bureaucratic system of the GDR. 233 Notes 1 A more detailed account of these groups, their goals, and their members is offered by Helmut Miiller-Engbergs, Marianne Schulz, and Jan Wielgohs, eds., Von der Illegalitdét ins Parlament: Werdegang und Konzepte der neuen Biirger- bewegungen (Berlin: C. Links Verlag, 1992). 2 Quoted in Gert-Joachim Glaessner, The Unification Process in Germany: From Dictatorship to Democracy (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1992), 67. 3 lbidi 6s: Notes All translations from the German are the author’s unless otherwise specified. Introduction 1 The three characters introduced here, Konrad L., Ulrich S., and Birgit M., are fictional, as are the towns of Forstenberg and Alt Brandenburg. The characters’ stories, however, are amalgamations of many of the profiles of postcommunist parliamentarians collected by this author in dozens of personal interviews conducted in 1993—1994 and 1997. Since many of the parliamentarians inter- viewed requested that their names not be used in the study, the character sketch is a useful device for portraying fairly typical patterns of elites’ back- grounds and paths to politics without revealing their identities. “Nur noch so beliebt wie die Russen,” Der Spiegel, vol. 30 (1991), 24. 3 Ibid., 26. Institut fiir Demoskopie, cited in Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, August 6, 1995, p. 3. 5 Emnid [opinion research organization in Bielefield] poll, cited in Rolf Reissig, “Einstellungen und Orientierungen der Ostdeutschen—zwischen Kontinui- taten und Wandel,” report prepared for the workshop “Ostdeutsche Meinungs- bildung in Wandel—Stimmungen, Einstellungen, Werte, Verhalten,” spon- sored by Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung (the foundation affiliated with the Social Democratic Party) (Potsdam, March 6, 1997), p. 8. For an analysis of the various interpretations of postunification political culture, especially this question of East-West difference, see David P. Conradt, “Political Culture in Unified Ger- many: Will the Bonn Republic Survive and Thrive in Berlin?” German Studies Review, vol. 21, no. 1 (February 1998), 83-104; Hans-Dieter Klingemann and Richard I. Hofferbert, “Germany: A New ‘Wall in the Mind’?” Journal of De- mocracy, vol. 5, no. 1 (1994), 30—45; Gerd Meyer, “Deutschland: Ein Staat— 236 Notes to Introduction zwei politische Kulturen,” Der Biirger im Staat, vol. 43, no. 1 (March 1993), 3— 12; and Oskar Niedermeyer and Klaus von Beyme, eds., Politische Kultur in Ost- und West Deutschland (Berlin: Campus Verlag, 1994). The percentage of people in 1995 (compared to 1990) who assumed the GDR was superior in the following areas: social security 92 percent (65 percent), protection from crime 88 percent (62 percent), professional training 70 percent (33 percent), education 64 percent (28 percent), provision of housing 53 per- cent (27 percent), and health service 57 percent (18 percent). Reported in the Berliner Zeitung, August 1, 1995. This referendum on fusion is examined more closely in chapter 7. Since 1991, increases in income tax and gas and fuel taxes have provided about half of the approximately $700 billion in transfers and investment in the east. The other half has been borrowed. 1 Elite Building after Communism 1 For more on the mobilization of activity “from below” in the late eighties, see Vladimir Tismaneanu, Reinventing Politics: Eastern Europe from Stalin to Havel (New York: Free Press, 1992). See, for example, Juan J. Linz and Alfred Stepan, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America, and Post- Communist Europe (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996); and Samuel P. Huntington, The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late Twen- tieth Century (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991). Differences in economic transition choices, including privatization strategies, are analyzed by David Stark, “Path Dependence and Privatization Strategies in East Central Europe,” East European Politics and Societies, vol. 6, no. 1 (Winter 1992), 17— 54. Giuseppe DiPalma, To Craft Democracies (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990). The institutionalization of democracy is emphasized by most democratization scholars, including Samuel P. Huntington, The Third Wave; and Di Palma, To Craft Democracies. The term “ready-made state” comes from Richard Rose and Christian Haerpfer, “The Impact of a Ready-Made State: East Germans in Comparative Perspec- tive,” German Politics, vol. 6, no. 1 (April 1997), 100-121. These two authors see only advantages to a ready-made state, and they give no attention to subjec- tive dimensions of the transplant of democracy. Rolf Reissig uses the term “incorporation” to describe the process of extending the West German state into the East. See Reissig’s “Transformationsprozess in Ostdeutschland—em- pirische Befunde und theoretische Erklarungsansatze,” BISS [Brandenburg- Berliner Institut fiir Sozialwissenschaftliche Studien] public, no. 3 (1992), 5— 20. The incorporation of East Germany into the FRG in 1990 was entirely peaceful and the result of negotiations between the leaders of the two states. In contrast, another “incorporation” by Germany this century, the Austrian An- schluss of 1938, occurred under very different conditions, including the sus- pension of democratic procedures. Gerd-Joachim Glaessner is one of the few 10 tit 12 13 14 237 German scholars to use the term Anschluss to describe developments after 1989. However, he contends the effect has been positive, compared to other transition cases: “In a comparative view Anschluss becomes a totally different notion: it enabled east Germany to cut down the period of uncertainty. .. . [T]he takeover of 1990 has been an advantage.” Glaessner, “Regime Change and Pub- lic Administration in East Germany—Some Findings from a Research Project in Brandenburg and Saxony,” German Politics, vol. 5, no. 2 (August 1996), 185—200, at 186. For an overview of the scholarly debate in Germany about the mode of transi- tion in the former GDR, see Scott Gissendanner, “Transfer or Transformation? What the German Social Science Literature Has to Say about Unification and Its Systemic Effects,” German Politics, vol. 5, no. 3 (December 1996), 460-484. See Laurence McFalls, Communism’s Collapse, Democracy’s Demise? The Cul- tural Context and Consequences of the East German Revolution (New York: New York University Press, 1995), especially chap. 6, “The Cultural Legacy of Communism.” The exact number of transferred elites from the west is difficult to establish. In some eastern states, the state government keeps track of transferred elite, while in other states it is up to the individual ministries to keep such records. The Federal Interior Ministry in Bonn set up a temporary clearing house to oversee the transfer process. According to one estimate, as many as one-fifth of the transfers remained in their new positions in 1994. Manfred Kuechler has noted that at the time “sentiments were in great flux and East Germans were fairly open to persuasion. During the campaign Chancellor Kohl made a persuasive suggestion. . . . [S]hrewd politician as he is, Kohl later backed away from a straight 1:1 exchange rate. However, the promise of quick affluence was a major campaign issue.” Kuechler, “New Germans in a New Germany?” German Politics and Society, no. 26 (Summer 1992), 115-127, at 124, For a historical account of the forty-year relationship between East and West Germany, see A. James McAdams, Germany Divided: From the Wall to Re- unification (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993). Gebhard L. Schweigler, National Consciousness in Divided Germany (London: Sage, 1975). See also Mary Fulbrook, chap. 12, “Diverging Cultures and Na- tional Identities?” The Divided Nation: A History of Germany, 1918-1990 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992). Jiirgen Habermas’s term, Verfassungspatriotismus, constitutional patriotism, is relevant here. See Larry Diamond, ed., Political Culture and Democracy in Developing Coun- tries (Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 1993), 13; and David Easton, A Systems Analysis of Political Life (New York: Wiley, 1965). These virtues were championed in the SED Party Program of 1976, p. 74. Cited in Wolfgang Bergem, Tradition und Transformation: Zur politische Kultur in Deutschland (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1993), 125. A number of Ger- man social scientists have begun to explore the impact of the economic trans- formation and the changing meaning of work on various groups in east German society. See for example, Max Kaase, et al., Politisches System—Bericht sum 238 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 Notes to Chapter One sozialen und politischen Wandel in Ostdeutschland, vol. 3 (Opladen: Leske und Budrich, 1996); and Michael Vester, Soziale Milieus im gesellschaftlichen Strukturwandel (Cologne: Bund-Verlag, 1993). Some authors view the absence of conflict as a sign of acceptance of the demo- cratic system. Such a minimalist definition of democracy is shared by theorists such as Huntington, The Third Wave; DiPalma, To Craft Democracies; Linz and Stepan, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation. The importance of political elites in democratic transitions is addressed by Michael Burton, et al., “Introduction: Elite Transformations and Democratic Regimes,” in John Higley and Richard Gunther, eds., Elites and Democratic Consolidation in Latin America and Southern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 1-37; and John Higley and Michael Burton, “The Elite Variable in Democratic Transitions and Breakdowns,” American Sociological Review, vol. 54 (February 1989), 17-32. See, for example, Gaetano Mosca, The Ruling Class (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1939). Karl Mannheim, Essays on the Sociology of Culture (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1956); and Lewis J. Edinger and Donald D. Searing, “Social Back- ground in Elite Analysis. A Methodological Inquiry,” American Political Sci- ence Review, vol. 61 (1967), 428—445. Harold D. Lasswell, Daniel Lerner, and C. Easton Rothwell, The Comparative Study of Elites (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1952). See Lowell G. Field and John Higley, Elites and Non-Elites: The Possibilities and Their Side Effects (Andover, Mass.: Warner Modular Publications, 1973); Field and Higley, Elitism (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1980); and Field and Higley, “National Elites and Political Stability,” in Gwen Moore, ed., Stud- ies of the Structure of National Elite Groups, Research in Politics and Societies 1 (Greenwich, England: JAI Press, 1985). See also Kenneth Prewitt and Alan Stone, The Ruling Elites (New York: Harper and Row, 1973). John Higley and Richard Gunther, eds., Elites and Democratic Consolidation in Latin America and Southern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). The introduction by Michael Burton, Richard Gunther, and John Higley discusses elite settlements, or negotiations, which lead to democratization, pp. 1-37. Different authors delineate the stages somewhat differently. For example, the seminal article by Dankwart Rustow provides a four-stage model of the democ- ratization process. See Rustow, “Transitions to Democracy,” Comparative Poli- tics, vol. 2 (April 1970), 337-363. Samuel P. Huntington, The Third Wave; Di Palma, To Craft Democracies; Linz and Stepan, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation; and Terry Lynn Karl and Philippe C. Schmitter, “Modes of Transition in Latin America, Southern and Eastern Europe,” International Social Science Journal, vol. 43, no. 2 (May 1991), 269-284. Attila Agh, “The Experience of the First Democratic Parliaments in East Cen- tral Europe,” Communist and Post-Communist Studies, vol. 28, no. 2 (1995), 203-214. See Robert D. Putnam, The Comparative Study of Elites (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 239 Prentice-Hall, 1976). Studies of elite structure in West Germany include Ru- dolf Wildenmann, Eliten in der Bundesrepublik (Cologne: Zentralarchiv fiir Sozialforschung, 1968); Rudolf Wildenmann et al., Fiihrungsschicht in der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1981 (Mannheim: University of Mannheim, 1982); and Dietrich Herzog, Politische Karrieren: Selektion und Profession- alisierung politischer Fihrungsgruppen (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1975). Western German studies of GDR elites include Peter Christian Ludz, Parteielite im Wandel: Funktionsaufbau, Sozialstruktur und Ideologie der SED-Fiihrung. Eine empirisch-systematische Untersuchung (Cologne: West- deutscher Verlag, 1968); Gerd Meyer, Die DDR Machtelite in der Ara Honecker (Tiibingen: A. Francke Verlag, 1991); and Eberhard Schneider, Die politische Funktionselite der DDR: Eine empirische Studie zur SED-Nomenklatura (Op- laden: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1994). An excellent study of elite culture in three democratic settings is Samuel J. Eldersveld, Lars Stromberg, and Wim Derksen, Local Elites in Western Democ- racies: A Comparative Analysis of Urban Political Leaders in the U.S., Sweden, and The Netherlands (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1995). Although about established democracies, a useful study on elite recruitment is Heinz Enlau and Moshe M. Czudnowski, eds., Elite Recruitment in Democratic Polities: Comparative Studies across Nations (New York: Sage, 1976). According to Rustow, “Transitions to Democracy” (360), “both politicians and citizens learn from the successful resolution of some issues to place their faith in the new rules and apply them to new issues.” Moreover, “[the] experience with democratic techniques and competitive recruitment will confirm the pol- iticians in their democratic practices and beliefs” and “the population at large will become firmly fitted into the new structure by the forging of effective links of party organization that connect the politicians in the capital with the mass electorate throughout the country.” John Higley and Michael G. Burton, “The Elite Variable in Democratic Transi- tions and Breakdowns,” American Sociological Review, vol. 54 (1989), 17-32; and Higley and Gunther, eds., Elites and Democratic Consolidation. Dietrich Herzog, Politische Fiihrungsgruppen: Probleme und Ergebnisse der modernen Elitenforschung (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchengesellschaft, 1982). For analyses of horizontal integration in two different eras of German history, see Ralf Dahrendorf, Society and Democracy in Germany (New York: W. W. Norton, 1967); and Ursula Hoffmann-Lange, “West German Elites: Cartel of Anxiety, Power Elite, or Responsive Representatives?” in Hoffmann-Lange, ed., Social and Political Structures in West Germany: From Authoritarianism to Postindustrial Democracy (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1991). Scott Mainwaring is one author who clearly makes this point. Mainwaring, “Transitions to Democracy and Democratic Consolidation: Theoretical and Comparative Issues,” in Mainwaring, Guillermo O’Donnel, and J. Samuel Val- enzuela, eds., Issues in Democratic Consolidation: The New South American Democracies in Comparative Perspective (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1992), 303. See ibid., 306; and Don Chull Shin, “On the Third Wave of Democratization: A 240 Notes to Chapter One 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 Synthesis of Recent Theory and Research,” World Politics, vol. 47 (October 1994), 135-170, at 145. The vertical integration dimension of elite building is discussed by Putnam, The Comparative Study of Elites. Beverly Crawford and Arend Lijphart make a similar distinction between the “Leninist legacy” and “the imperatives of liberal democracy,” in “Explaining Political and Economic Change in Post-Communist Eastern Europe,” Com- parative Political Studies, vol. 28, no. 2 (July 2, 1995), 171-199. Christian Joppke also uses the terms “push” and “pull,” albeit a bit differently. See Joppke, “Intellectuals, Nationalism, and the Exit from Communism: The Case of East Germany,” Comparative Study of Society and History, vol. 37, no. 2 (1995), 213-241. See Bergem, Tradition und Transformation. For more on the state parliamentary elites in pre-unification West Germany, see Stefan Holl, “Landespolitiker: Eine weitgehend unbeachtete Elite,” Der Birger im Staat, vol. 40, no. 1 (March 1990), 76—97. The Potsdam Elite Study covered the following elite sectors: administration, the economy, finance, economic organizations (such as employers’ associa- tions), unions, professional associations, the judiciary, academe, mass media, culture, religious institutions, and the military. Biirklin examines elite recruit- ment and circulation, the patterns of contact between elites and between elites and the public, and elite value orientations. Wilhelm Biirklin et al., Eliten in Deutschland: Rekrutierung und Integration (Opladen: Leske und Budrich, 1997). Werner J. Patzelt, “Die gesellschaftliche Vernetzung ostdeutscher Parlamen- tarier,” Historical Social Research, vol. 20, no. 4 (1995), 87-122; Werner J. Patzelt and Roland Schirmer, “Parlamentarismusgriindung in den neuen Bun- deslandern,” Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, B27/96 (June 28, 1996), 20—28; and Werner J. Patzelt, “German MPs and Their Roles,” Journal of Legislative Studies, vol. 3, no. 1 (Spring 1997), 55—78. Glaessner, “Regime Change”; Hans-Ulrich Derlien, “German Unification and Bureaucratic Transformation,” International Political Science Review, vol. 14 (1993), 319-334; and Derlien, “Elitenzirkulation zwischen Implosion und In- tegration: Abgang, Rekrutierung und Zusammensetzung ostdeutscher Funk- tionseliten 1989-1994,” in Hellmut Wollmann, et al., Transformation der politisch-administrativen Strukturen in Ostdeutschland (Opladen: Leske und Budrich, 1997); and Caroline King, “The Second Silent Revolution? Civil Ser- vice Reform in the Context of German Unification,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Political Science Association, Washington, D.C., August 28-31, 1997. See, for example, Welsh, “Parliamentary Elites”; Patzelt, “German MPs.” 2 Political Culture and Leadership under Communism i These studies include Mike Dennis, German Democratic Republic (London: Pinter, 1988); G. E. Edwards, GDR Society and Social Institutions (London: Macmillan, 1985); Gert-Joachim Glaessner, Die andere deutsche Republic 10 1A 12 13 241 (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1989); and Henry Krisch, The German Demo- cratic Republic (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1985). Mary Fulbrook, Anatomy of a Dictatorship: Inside the GDR, 1949-1989 (Ox- ford: Oxford University Press, 1995). See Gebhard L. Schweigler, National Consciousness in Divided Germany (Lon- don: Sage, 1975); and Dirk Verheyen, The German Question: A Cultural, His- torical, and Geopolitical Exploration (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1991). Hans-Joachim Maaz, Behind the Wall: The Inner Life of Communist Germany (New York: W. W. Norton, 1995). The German title contains the word Gefiihls- tau, or a blockage of feelings, suggesting the emotional damage wrought by decades of paternalistic, repressive leadership, which had led to particular patterns of interpersonal relations. Archie Brown and Jack Gray, Political Culture and Political Change in Commu- nist States (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1979). Christian Joppke, East German Dissidents and the Revolution of 1989: Social Movements in a Leninist Regime (New York: New York University Press, 1995). Ibid., 198. Mary Fulbrook, “Aspects of Society and Identity in the New Germany,” Daeda- lus (Winter 1994), 211-233, at 215. See Michael Vester, Soziale Milieus im gesellschaftlichen Strukturwandel (Co- logne: Bund-Verlag, 1993), 61-121. His examination of the different “men- talities” fostered by particular psychocultural environments, or “milieus” in East Germany is useful. Fulbrook uses the term “personality types” to describe the patterns of reaction to the pressures for political conformity, the official culture. “Aspects of Society and Identity,” 214. Scholars of political culture in the GDR invariably point to the tension between the intended or official political culture and the real or inofficial political culture of everyday life. See Hans-Georg Wehling, Politische Kultur in der DDR (Stuttgart: Verlag W. Kohlhammer, 1989); Gert-Joachim Glaessner, The Unifica- tion Process in Germany: From Dictatorship to Democracy (London: Pinter, 1992); Dirk Berg-Schlosser and Ralf Rytlewski, eds., Political Culture in Ger- many (London: Macmillan, 1993); Henry Krisch, The German Democratic Republic: The Search for Identity (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1985); and espe- cially Christiane Lemke, Die Ursachen des Umbruchs 1989: Politische Sozial- ization in der ehemaligen DDR (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1991). Chris- tiane Lemke uses the term “double culture” to refer to the official goal culture enforced by the East German communist regime on one hand and the “domi- nant” pattern of values, orientations, and behaviors on the other. See Glaessner, The Unification Process, 106. Martin and Sylvia Greiffenhagen, Eine schwieriges Vaterland: Zur politischen Kultur im vereinigten Deutschland (Munich: List Verlag, 1993), 12. Translation mine. Public opinion data suggest that numerous eastern Germans continue to be- lieve the GDR system better provided for several basic needs of people than does the FRG system. See Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann, “Changing from Dic- tatorship to Democracy without a Change in Journalists,” paper presented at the World Congress of the International Political Science Association, Berlin, 242 Notes to Chapter Two 14 15 16 iy/ 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 August 21—25, 1994; and the title story, “Stolz aufs eigene Leben,” Der Spiegel, vol. 27 (1995), especially pp. 42—43. For example, in 1990 the GDR system was rated higher than the FRG by easterners in only three out of nine categories (protection from crime, equal treatment of women, and social security). In 1995, the GDR was rated higher in seven out of nine categories (educational opportunities, occupational training, health care, and provision of housing, in addition to the previous three). These virtues were championed in the SED Party Program of 1976 (p. 74), cited in Wolfgang Bergem, Tradition und Transformation: Zur politische Kultur in Deutschland (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag), 125. Regine Hildebrandt cited in Gerda Szepansky, Die Stille Emanzipation: Frauen in der DDR (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1995). Bergem, Tradition und Transformation, 142. The findings of David Conradt suggest a value shift occurred in the FRG. See Conradt’s chapter “Changing German Political Culture,” in Gabriel Almond and Sidney Verba, eds., The Civic Culture Revisited (Boston: Little, Brown, 1980). From the Protokoll der Verhandlungen des V. Parteitages der SED 1959, no. 1, 160. Cited in Bergem, Tradition und Transformation, 119. The development of “military motivation” and “military morality” were in- stitutionalized in 1971 at the Seventh Party Day and in 1982 by the Wehr- dienstgesetz, the military service law. See Bergem, Tradition und Transforma- tion, 177. The 1974 study by Thomas Baylis on the relationship between the GDR politi- cal elite and the technical intelligentsia offers keen insight into the way in which the workplace and professional members of GDR society were politi- cized and mobilized as an instrument for furthering regime goals. Baylis, The Technical Intelligentsia and the East German Elite (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974). From the Gesetze and Geldébnis of the Thalmann Pioneers from 1968, quoted in Bergem, Tradition und Transformation, 195. Fulbrook, Anatomy of a Dictatorship, 58. See Jirina Siklova, “The ‘Gray Zone’ and the Future of Dissent in Czechoslo- vakia,” Social Research, vol. 57, no. 2 (Summer 1991), 347-363. The importance of these “parking orbits” for postcommunist elite recruitment in Hungary is analyzed by Akos Rona-Tas, “The Selected and the Elected: The Making of the New Parliamentary Elite in Hungary,” East European Politics and Societies, vol. 5, no. 3 (Fall 1991), 357—393. Following Gerd Meyer’s definition of the GDR political elite. See Meyer, Die DDR-Machtelite in der Ara Honecker (Tiibingen: A. Francke Verlag, 1991). Greater analysis of the recruitment and training of GDR elites is offered by Gert- Joachim Glaessner, Herrschaft durch Kader: Leitung der Gesellschaft und Ka- derpolitik in der DDR (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1977); Peter Christian Ludz, Parteielite im Wandel: Funktionsaufbau, Sozialstruktur und Ideologie der SED-Parteifiihrung. Eine emprisch-systematische Untersuchung (Cologne: Westdeutsche Verlag, 1968); and Gerd Meyer, Der DDR-Machtelite. Ludz described an “institutionalized counterelite” of party philosophers and 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 243 ideologists, as well as state and economic experts, who were politically inte- grated into the system but assumed a latent counterposition within it. Ludz, Parteielite im Wandel, 43. The “institutionalized counterelite” in the GDR was at best a symbolic counterelite rather than a real force of opposition. See Bahro’s (1977) critique of “real existierender Sozialismus,” The Alterna- tive in Eastern Europe, trans. David Fernbach (London: Verso, 1980). Thomas Baylis, “Plus Ca Change? Transformation and Continuity among East European Elites,” Communist and Post-Communist Studies, vol. 27, no. 3 (1994), 315-328. The term Nischengesellschaft, niche society, was coined in 1983 by Ginter Gaus, an astute observer of and writer about the GDR. In Gaus, Wo Deutschland liegt: Eine Ortsbestimmung (Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 1983). Ginter Gaus, permanent representative of the Federal Republic in the GDR in the 1970s, referred to the private refuge he observed among East Germans as the “niche” and referred to the people of the GDR as the “niche society.” He also apparently described these East Germans as “the true Germans” and “the narrow-minded and petit bourgeois.” Bergem discusses Gaus and his observa- tions on the niche society, Tradition und Transformation, 238. Elsewhere, Gaus called the GDR the “Land der kleinen Leute,” the country of little people, quoted by Detlef Pollack, “Wertwandel und religi6ser Wandel in Ostdeutsch- land,” Berliner Debatte, vol. 4 (1993), 89—96, at 90. Bergem, Tradition und Transformation, 236. Maaz, Behind the Wall. The German term is Notgemeinschaft. See Peter Bender, “Die sieben Gesichter der DDR,” Merkur: Deutsche Zeitschrift fiir europdisches Denken, vol. 4 (1991), 292-304, at 303. Cited in Bergem, Tradition und Transformation, 239. Maaz, Behind the Wall, 239. Fulbrook, Anatomy of a Dictatorship, 170. Timothy Garton Ash uses this term to describe developments in communist Poland; however it applies to other Leninist-type regimes, including the GDR. Garton Ash, Polish Revolution: Solidarity (New York: Scribner’s, 1983), 14—17. Gerd Poppe, “Es geht alles ein bisschen von oben herab,” Gewerkschaftliche Monatshefte, vol. 4 (1991), 237—246, and 238. Jeffrey Kopstein, The Politics of Economic Decline in East Germany, 1945- 1989 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1997). Fulbrook, Anatomy of a Dictatorship; Kopstein, Politics of Economic Decline; and Charles Maier, Dissolution: The Crisis of Communism and the End of East Germany (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1997). See Roland Roth, “Eliten und Gegeneliten: Neuer Soziale Bewegungen als Her- ausforderer ‘demokratischer Elitenherrschaft,’” in Thomas Leif, Josef Legrand, and Ansgar Klein, eds., Die politische Klasse in Deutschland: Eliten auf dem Prufstand (Bonn: Bouvier Verlag, 1992). Bergem, Tradition und Transformation, 242; translation mine. Pollack, “Wertwandel und religidser Wandel,” 92. Moreover, “[t]he Church in socialism does not mean that the church opts for socialism, but that it admits that socialism is the place of its activity and (therefore) must bargain with it to present itself as the voice of civic values and western traditions in society.” 244 Notes to Chapter Two 44 45 46 47 48 Ibid. Joppke, East German Dissidents, 187. For more on the Stasi, see David Gill and Ulrich Schr6ter, Das Ministerium fiir Staatssicherheit: Anatomie des Mielke Imperiums (Berlin: Rowohlt, 1991). Pollack, “Wertwandel und religidser Wandel,” 15. See the contributions of Mike Dennis, “Civil Society, Opposition, and the End of the GDR,” and Roger Woods, “Civil Society, Critical Intellectuals, and Public Opinion in the New Bundeslander,” in Margy Gerber and Roger Woods, eds., The End of the GDR and Problems of Integration (Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1993). 3 East German Leadership in the Revolutionary Year 1989-1990 al Peter Christian Ludz, Parteielite im Wandel: Funktionsaufbau, Sozialstruktur und Ideologie der SED-Fiihrung. Eine empirisch-systematische Untersuchung (Cologne: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1968). See Hilke Rebenstorf, “Elitentransformation in Ostdeutschland,” in Thomas Leif, Josef Legrand, and Ansgar Klein, eds., Die politische Klasse in Deutsch- land (Bonn: Bouvier Verlag, 1992). Fora detailed analysis of elite circulation in the GDR in the 1989-1990 period, see Hans-Ulrich Derlien, “Elitezirkulation zwischen Implosion und Integration: Abgang, Rekrutierung und Zusammen- setzung ostdeutscher Funktionseliten, 1989-1994,” in Hellmut Wollman, et al., eds., Transformation der politisch-administrativen Strukturen in Ost- deutschland (Opladen: Leske und Budrich, 1997) 329-415. This differentiates the GDR, as well as Czechoslovakia, from Poland and Hun- gary, where former regime elites entered into negotiations with members of civil society and were able to retain a role for themselves in the transition to a new system. See Timothy Garton Ash, “The German Revolution,” New York Review of Books (December 21, 1989), 14—19; Gert-Joachim Glaessner, Hine deutsche Revolution: Der Umbruch in der DDR, seine Ursachen und Folgen (Frankfurt am Main: Verlag Peter Lang, 1991); Klaus Hartung, Neunzehnhundertneue- nundachtzig (Frankfurt am Main: Luchterhand, 1990); Konrad Jarausch, The Rush to German Unity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994); David M. Keithly, The Collapse of East German Communism: The Year the Wall Came Down, 1989 (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1992); and Rolf Reissig and Gert- Joachim Glaessner, Das Ende eines Experiments: Umbruch in der DDR und Deutsche Einheit (Berlin: Dietz Verlag, 1991). Albert O. Hirschman, “Exit, Voice, and the Fate of the German Democratic Republic,” World Politics 45 (January 1993), 173—202. See Jeffrey Kopstein’s analysis of the connection between economic welfare and regime legitimacy in The Politics of Economic Decline in East Germany, 1945-1989 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1997). For a dis- cussion of changes in East Germans’ political orientations toward the GDR state and regime, see Henry Krisch, “Changes in Political Culture and the Transformation of the GDR, 1989-1990,” in Gert-Joachim Glaessner and Ian 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 2 245 Wallace, eds., The German Revolution of 1989: Causes and Consequences (Ox- ford: Berg, 1992) and Anne Kohler, Nationalbewusstsein und Identitdtsgefiih] der Biirger der DDR unter besonderer Beriicksichtigung der deutschen Frage (Berlin: Infratest Burke, 1994). Stasi report of June 1, 1994, cited in Glaessner, Eine deutsche Revolution, 51. Excerpts of this document appear in Volker Gransow and Konrad Jarausch, eds., Die deutsche Vereinigung: Dokumente zu Biirgerbewegung, Anndherung und Beitritt (Cologne: Verlag Wissenschaft und Politik, 1991). See Helmut Berking and Sighard Neckel, “Aussenseiter als Politiker: Neue lokale Eliten in einer ostdeutschen Gemeinde,” Soziale Welt, vol. 42 (1991), 283—299, at 287. The moral-ethical dimension of the civic activists and the influence of Protes- tantism in East Germany’s dissident circles is analyzed by Helmut Berking, “Uber den ostdeutschen Protestanten als Politiker,” Berliner Debatte, vol. 5 (1993), 78-83. Daniel Friedheim, “Accelerating Collapse: The East German Road,” in Yossi Shain and Juan J. Linz, eds., Between States: Interim Governments and Demo- cratic Transitions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). Manfred Gortemaker, Unifying Germany, 1989-1990 (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1994), 83. Jiirgen Kocka, “Crisis of Unification: How Germany Changes,” Daedalus (Win- ter 1994), 175-176. Manfred Gértemaker (1994) reports that the GDR Finance Minister in the Modrow government, Ernst Hofner, “disclosed that East Germany’s budget def- icit amounted to about US$70 billion, causing gasps of amazement in the hall,” Unifying Germany, 97. Charles Maier, Dissolution: The Crisis of Communism and the End of East Germany (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1997), 59, reports that the GDR’s foreign debt amounted to $26.5 billion in October 1989. Wolfgang Ullmann, civic activist and roundtable participant, quoted in Maier, Dissolution, 185. The Sorbs are a Slavic ethnic minority in eastern Germany. Mike Dennis, “The Vanishing Opposition: The Decline of the East German Citizen Movements,” in Stephen Padgett, ed., Parties and Party Systems in the New Germany (Aldershot, England: Dartmouth Press, 1993), 216. Peter Joachim Lapp, Das Zusammenwachsen des deutschen Parteienfiiges: Forum deutsche Einheit. Perspektive und Argumente (Bonn: Friedrich-Ebert- Stiftung, 1993), 13. Ibid., 29. Quoted in Die Tageszeitung, October 18, 1989. For analyses of the transformation of the SED to the PDS, see Ann L. Phillips. “Socialism with a New Face? The PDS in Search of Reform,” East European Politics and Societies, vol. 8, no. 3 (Fall 1994), 495-530; Henry Krisch, “From SED to PDS: The Struggle to Revive a Left Party,” in Russell Dalton, ed., The New Germany Votes (Oxford: Berg, 1993); and Heinrich Bortfeldt, Von der SED zur PDS: Wandlung zur Demokratie? (Bonn: Bouvier Verlag, 1992). See Helmut Miiller-Enbergs, “Zwischen Bewahrung und Modernisierung: Po- 246 Notes to Chapter Three 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 litische Einstellungen in der letzeten Volkskammer der DDR,” in Dietrich Her- zog, Hilke Rebenstorf, and Bernhard Wessels, eds., Parlament und Gesell- schaft: Eine Funktionsanalyse der reprdsentativen Demokratie (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1993). The term “negative elite recruitment” is used by Klaus von Beyme, “Regime Transition and Recruitment of Elites in Eastern Europe,” in Hans-Ulrich Der- lien and George J. Szablowski, eds., Regime Transitions, Elites, and Bureau- cracies in Eastern Europe, special issue of Governance, vol. 6 (1993), 409-437. Helmut Miiller-Enbergs, “Zwischen Bewahrung und Modernisierung.” See table 1, p. 253. Ibid. The Volkskammer was dissolved following the October 3 Landtag elections in the five new states. Between October 3 and December 6, 1990, when the all- German Bundestag elections were held, a number of the former Volkskammer members were sent to Bonn as delegates from the eastern states to the Bun- destag. These eastern delegates had no voting rights in all-German affairs. Eva Kolinsky, “Concepts of Party Democracy in the East,” in Stephen Padgett, ed., Parties and Party Systems in the New Germany (Aldershot, England: Dart- mouth Press, 1993), 240. The Literaturstreit of the summer of 1990 touched upon the gap between the intellectuals and das Volk that had been exposed by the civic and national phases of political change. The catalyst for this debate was the publication of Christa Wolf’s Was Bleibt? This novel describing Wolf’s surveillance by the Stasi sparked a discussion about the role of GDR intellectuals in supporting and stabilizing the old regime. See the special issue on German unification of New German Critique, vol. 52 (Winter 1990-1991). See Jiirgen Habermas, “What Does Socialism Mean Today? The Rectifying Rev- olution and the Need for New Thinking on the Left,” New Left Review, vol. 183 (1990), 3-21. “Giinter Grass gegen das Einheitsgeschrei,” 125-128, and “Jiirgen Habermas: Der DM-Nationalismus,” 148-152, both in Gransow and Jarausch, eds., Die deutsche Vereinigung. Kolinsky, “Concepts of Party Democracy,” 245. See Terry Lynn Karl and Philippe C. Schmitter, “Modes of Transition in Latin America, Southern and Eastern Europe,” International Social Science Journal, vol. 43, no. 2 (May 1991), 269-284. Dirk Philipsen’s extensive interviews with leaders of the various civic groups make this problem particularly clear. In We Were the People: Voices from East Germany’s Revolutionary Autumn of 1989 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1993). For the best account of the founding of Alliance 90 and its positions, see Jan Wielgohs, Marianne Schulz, and Helmut Miiller-Enbergs, Biindnis 90: Entste- hung, Entwicklung, Perspektiven: Ein Beitrag zur Parteienforschung im verein- igten Deutschland (Berlin: Gesellschaft fiir sozialwissenschaftliche Forschung und Publizistik, 1992). Philipsen, We Were the People: Voices from East Germany’s Revolutionary Autumn, 244. 247 4 The Transition to Democracy in East Germany il 10 11 12 Manfred Gortemaker, Unifying Germany, 1989-1990 (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1994), 138. Stephen Szabo, The Diplomacy of German Unification (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1992). Ibid., 206. The unification negotiations are described in detail by Gerhard Lehmbruch, “Die deutsche Vereinigung: Strukturen und Strategien,” Politische Viertel- jJahresschrift, vol. 32, no. 4 (1991), 585-604, and “Die improvisierte Vereinig- ung: Die dritte deutsche Republik,” Leviathan, vol. 13, no. 4 (1990), 462—486. For a review and critical assessment of the German social science literature on the unification process, see Scott Gissendanner, “Transfer or Transformation? What the German Social Science Literature Has to Say about Unification and Its Systemic Effects,” German Politics, vol. 5, no. 3 (December 1996), 460—484. Reported by MPs in the Brandenburg Landtag, personal interviews, Potsdam, summer of 1994. See Dieter Segert, “Not a Right Name—The Function of Borrowed Political Identities in the Post-Communist Process,” paper presented at the World Con- gress of the International Political Science Association, Berlin, August 21—25, 1994. Segert noted that “de Maiziere continued to use the word socialism trying to find new sense in it (he stressed the specific, Christian, understanding of the socialist development from the point of view of the CDU),” 11. This is suggested by Peter Joachim Lapp, Das Zusammenwachsen des deut- schen Parteienfiiges: Forum deutsche Einheit. Perspektive und Argumente (Bad Godesberg: Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, 1993), 23. For a general discussion of transitional justice in postcommunist countries, see Helga A. Welsh, “Dealing with the Communist Past: Central and Eastern Euro- pean Experiences after 1990,” Europe-Asia Studies, vol. 48, no. 3 (1996), 413— 428. For an overview of the process in postcommunist Germany, see Jenni- fer A. Yoder, “Culprits, Culpability and Corrective Justice: The Strengths and Weaknesses of the German Approach to Post-Communist Justice,” Problems of Post-Communism, vol. 45, no. 4 (July-August 1998), 14—21. Klaus K6nig, “Aufbau der Landesverwaltung nach Leitbildern,” in Hellmutt Wollmann, ed., Transformation der politisch-administrativen Strukturen in Ostdeutschland (Opladen: Leske und Budrich, 1997), 223-258. The problems of purging, reeducating, and incorporating 2.1 million function- aries into the western system were addressed immediately after unification. A similar purge in other Eastern European countries would have created a leader- ship vacuum. Elsewhere in Eastern Europe, new governments had nowhere else to turn for personnel to fill the bureaucratic apparatuses. Therefore, many members of the old elite in other postcommunist transitions were retained for their skills and connections. Moreover, in other countries, attempts to purge the bureaucracies were often resisted. In the East German case, however, the counterbureaucracy was in Bonn, ready to replace or reeducate indigenous personnel and allowing a clean break with the past. Wolfgang Schauble, “Der Einigungsvertrag in seiner praktischen Bewadhrung,” 248 Notes to Chapter Four 13 14 15 16 U7, 18 19 20 21 Deutschland Archiv, vol. 25, no. 3 (March 1992), 239. At the end of 1992-1993, 14,772 (western) federal public employees were working in the eastern part of Germany. Approximately one-third of these were transferred from the west, and the rest were temporarily “on loan” from their western offices. In addition, about 5,000 persons were sent from the administrations of partner states in the west, distributed as follows: Brandenburg, approx. 1,050; Sachsen-Anhalt, ap- prox. 1,600; Thiiringen, approx. 850; Sachsen, 800; and Mecklenburg-Vorpom- mern, 700. See Siegfried Grundmann, “Zur Akzeptanz und Integration von Beamten aus den alten in den neuen Bundeslandern,” Deutschland Archiv, vol. 1 (1994), 34. See the report by Brandenburg’s director of the State Chancellory, Jiirgen Linde, “Der Neuaufbau eines Landes: Das Beispiel Brandenburg,” Staatswis- senschaften und Staatspraxis, vol. 2, no. 3 (1991), 282-303. Gerhard Lehmbruch, “Die improvisierte Vereinigung,” 473-474. The process of building functioning administrative structures in the east had no historical antecedents. In postwar West Germany, for example, the professional civil service, with its special training requirements and its ca- reer system based on education and merit, had not been entirely destroyed, allowing the restoration of a civil service. In East Germany, however, the civil service was abandoned after 1945 and replaced by a “uniform system of labor relations which no longer differentiated between public functionaries, including cadres of the Communist party, and ‘peasants and laborers.’” See Hans-Ulrich Derlien, “German Unification and Bureaucratic Transformation,” International Political Science Review (1993), vol. 14, no. 4 (1993), 319-334, at 324. As a result, public officials were retrained in order to attain the managerial competence demanded by the West German professional civil service. The or- ganization, work patterns, accountability, and work incentives of East German administrative personnel were considered to be “tainted” by the ideological imperatives of collective bureaucratic communism. As a result, the lower-level personnel that remained in the new system were retrained, and all high- ranking functionaries were removed. Derlien, “German Unification and Bureaucratic Transformation,” 331. See also Caroline King, “The Second Silent Revolution? Civil Service in the Context of German Unification,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Political Science Association, Washington, D.C., August 28-31, 1997. “Korrupt und horig,” Der Spiegel, vol. 15 (1994), 36. This policy, called the Radicals’ Decree, or Berufsverbot, was formulated in the FRG in 1972 in order to prevent radicals, primarily on the left in the wake of the protests of the late 1960s led by the student movement from assuming political office and presumably threatening the stability of the FRG system. See Gregg O. Kvistad, “Radicals and the German State: Hegel, Marx, and the Political De- mands on German Civil Servants,” Ph.D. dissertation (Berkeley, 1984). Brochure of the Federal Commissioner for the Records of the State Security Service of the Former German Democratic Republic, also known as the Gauck Agency, Task, Structure and Work of This Authority (Berlin, 1995), 1. According to an official of the Gauck Agency, interview in Berlin, June 5, 1997. Figures reported by the Gauck Agency in the Zweiter Tdtigkeitsbericht des 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 3 32 33 34 35 249 Bundesbeauftragten fiir die Unterlagen des Staatssicherheitsdienstes der ehe- maligen Deutschen Demokratischen Republik—1995. Jiirgen Burmeister, in “Verlauf und Grenzen politischer Séuberung des Staats- apparats der DDR respektive der neuen Bundeslander, 1889-1991,” in Hans- Ulrich Derlien, ed., Verwaltungsprobleme der neuen Bundesldnder—ein Semi- narbericht (Bremen: University of Bremen, 1992), 14. Figure cited by Helga A. Welsh, “Parliamentary Elites in Times of Political Transition: The Case of Eastern Germany,” West European Politics, vol. 19, no. 3 (July 1996), 507-524. Figures for eastern parliamentarians in 1993 from Hans-Ulrich Derlien and Stefan Lock, “Eine neue politische Elite? Rekrutierung und Karrieren der Abgeordneten in den fiinf neuen Landtagen,” Zeitschrift fiir Parlamentsfragen, vol. 1 (1994), 61—93. The average age for full members of the Central Commit- tee in 1981 was 57.3, while for candidate members, it was 49.4. The overall average was 55.1. Reported by Eberhard Schneider, The Central Political Elite of the German Democratic Republic (Cologne: Bundesinstitut fiir ostwissen- schaftliche und internationale Studien, 1988). Derlien, “Elitenzirkulation zwischen Implosion und Integration: Abgang, Re- krutierung und Zusammensetzung ostdeutscher Funktionseliten, 1989-1994,” in Helmut Wollman et al., eds., Transformation der politisch-administrativen Strukturen in Ostdeutschland (Opladen: Leske and Budrich, 1997), 360. Schneider, Central Political Elite. Derlien, “Elitenzirkulation,” 359. See Derlien and Loch, “Eine neue politische Elite?” The engineering statistic comes from Welsh, “Parliamentary Elites,” 511. Akos Rona-Tas, “The Selected and the Elected: The Making of the New Parlia- mentary Elite in Hungary,” East European Politics and Societies, vol. 5, no. 3 (Fall 1991), 357-393. A similar pattern is reported by Rona-Tas in the case of Hungary. Ibid. For more detailed analyses of the GDR elite, see Peter Christian Ludz, Parteielite im Wandel: Funktionsaufbau, Sozialstruktur und Ideologie der SED-Fiihrung. Eine empirisch-systematische Untersuchung (Cologne: West- deutscher Verlag, 1968); and Gerd Meyer, Die DDR-Machtelite in der Ara Ho- necker (Tiibingen: A. Francke Verlag, 1991). For more on the new parliamen- tary elites, see Derlien and Lock, “Eine neue politische Elite?” and Welsh, “Parliamentary Elites.” See Thomas Baylis, The Technical Intelligentsia and the East German Elite (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974). Derlien, “Elitenzirkulation,” 371. Western advisor to Chancellor Kohl, quoted in a press interview in 1993. “East- ern German Politicians Lost in Westerners’ Shadow,” Washington Post, April 14, 1993. Die Zeit (April 2, 1994) reported that, as of April 1994, one-fifth of the western- ers working in the public sector in the east wanted to stay. The numbers in some regions were higher. Of the 2,124 westerners from Niedersachsen work- ing in Sachsen-Anhalt, 1,150 had decided to settle in the east as of June 1993. Of the 860 sent to Thiiringen from Rheinland-Pfalz and Hessen, half chose to stay permanently. 250 Notes to Chapter Four 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 a See Wolfgang Ullmann, Verfassung und Parlament: Ein Beitrag zur Verfas- sungsdiskussion (Berlin: Dietz, 1992); also, by the same author, Eine Ver- fassung fiir Deutschland: Manifest, Text, Playdoyers (Munich: C. Hanser, 1991). “East German Politicians Lost in Westerners’ Shadow,” Washington Post, April 14, 1993. See “Leiden an der Bonner Hohenluft,” Siiddeutscher Zeitung, February 4, 1994; and “Die Linientaktik der Infanterie,” Der Tagesspeigel, May 16, 1994. See Hellmut Wollmann, “The Transformation of Political and Administrative Institutions in East Germany between External Determinants and ‘Endoge- nous’ Factors,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the International Political Science Association, Berlin, August 21-25, 1994, pp. 10-12. These figures are from the June 1, 1993, report by the federal government. In Drucksache 12/6854, “Materialien zur Deutschen Einheit und zum Aufbau in den neuen Bundeslandern,” published by the German Bundestag (February 8, 1994), p. 63. According to figures cited in Wollmann, “Transformation of Polit- ical and Administrative Institutions,” 12, about 4,000 western personnel re- main in eastern municipal governments. Drucksache 12/6854. Wollmann, “Transformation of Political and Administrative Institutions,” 3. Developing FRG Politicians Mary Fulbrook, “Aspects of Society and Identity in the New Germany,” Daeda- lus (Winter 1994), 211—233, at 214. For a useful review of the various approaches to institutional determinants of elite behavior, see Donald D. Searing, “Roles, Rules, and Rationality in the New Institutionalism,” American Political Science Review, vol. 85, no. 4 (December 1991), 1239-1260. Ursula Hoffmann-Lange, “West German Elites: Cartel of Anxiety, Power Elite, or Responsive Representatives?” in Hoffmann-Lange, ed., Social and Political Structures in West Germany: From Authoritarianism to Postindustrial Democ- racy (Boulder: Westview Press, 1991). See Dietrich Herzog, Politische Karrieren: Selektion und Professionalisierung politischer Fiihrungsgruppen (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1975); and Die- trich Herzog, Politische Fiihrungsgruppen: Probleme und Ergebnisse der mo- dernen Elitenforschung (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1982). Figures for western state parliamentarians at the end of the 1980s provided by Stefan Holl, “Landespolitiker: Eine weitgehend unbeachtete Elite,” Der Biirger im Staat, vol. 40, no. 1 (March 1990), 76-97. Figures from Hans-Ulrich Derlien and Stefan Lock, “Eine neue politische Elite? Rekrutierung und Karrieren der Abgeordneten in den fiinf neuen Landtagen,” Zeitschrift fiir Parlamentsfragen, vol. 1 (1994), 61-94. See Thomas Baylis, “Plus Ca Change? Transformation and Continuity among East European Elites,” Communist and Post-Communist Studies, vol. 27, no. 3 (1994), 315-328; and Baylis, “Elites, Institutions, and Political Change in East Central Europe: Germany, the Czech Republic, and Slovakia,” paper presented 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 WW 18 19 251 at the Fifth World Congress of the International Council for Central and East European Studies, Warsaw, Poland, August 6-11, 1995. Akos Rona-Tas, “The Selected and the Elected: The Making of the New Parlia- mentary Elite in Hungary,” East European Politics and Societies, vol. 5, no. 3 (Fall 1991), 357-393. Joel D. Aberbach, Robert D. Putnam, and Bert A. Rockman, Bureaucrats and Politicians in Western Democracies (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1981), 52. Herr Dr. H. is not an amalgamation; however, in response to interviewees’ requests, I have not used the full names of parliamentarians. Herzog, Politische Karrieren. The former career type that Dietrich Herzog calls the “standard career,” is one in which a career in the private sector preceded or developed alongside political and party office. This characterizes the career path of roughly 60 percent of western German political elites. Another 10 percent are characterized by the latter career type, who “cross over” from a position of authority in the private sector to one in the public sector. The third category is the purely political career. See also Dietrich Herzog et al., Abgeord- nete und Biirger: Ergebnisse einer Befragung der Mitglieder des 11. Deutschen Bundestages und der Bevélkerung (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1990), 13. This fact is discussed by Derlien in regard to the civic service. Hans-Ulrich Derlien, “German Unification and Bureaucratic Transformation,” Interna- tional Political Science Review, vol. 14, no. 4 (1993), 319-334, at 324. See also Ralf Dahrendorf, Society and Democracy in Germany (Garden City, N.Y.: Dou- bleday, 1967) for an analysis of the German elite. Studies by Hans-Joachim Veen and Carsten Zelle of the cDU-affiliated founda- tion, the Konrad Adenauer Stiftung, the Emnid opinion research organization in Bielefeld, and Elizabeth Noelle Neumann of the Allensbach Institute have all reported differences between attitudes in east and west. Where the studies significantly disagree is on interpreting the result (i.e., whether the glass is half empty or half full). Wilhelm Biirklin et al., Eliten in Deutschland: Rekrutierung und Integration (Opladen: Leske und Budrich, 1997); Robert Rohrschneider, “Report from the Laboratory: The Influence of Institutions on Political Elites’ Democratic Values in Germany,” American Political Science Review, vol. 88, no. 4 (December 1994), 927-941. See Stephen Padgett, “Introduction: Party Democracy in the New Germany,” Parties and Party Systems in the New Germany (Aldershot, England: Dart- mouth Press, 1993). David Conradt, “Changing German Political Culture,” in Gabriel Almond and Sidney Verba, eds., The Civic Culture Revisited (Boston: Little, Brown, 1980). Werner J. Patzelt, “German MPs and Their Roles,” Journal of Legislative Stud- ies, vol. 3, no. 1 (Spring 1997), 55—78. Ibid., 57-58. Eva Kolinsky, “Concepts of Party Democracy in the East,” in Stephen Padgett, ed., Parties and Party Systems in the New Germany (Aldershot, England: Dart- mouth Press, 1993), 225—251; Russell Dalton and Manfred Kuechler, eds., Challenging the Political Order: New Social and Political Movements in West- ern Democracies (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990). 252 Notes to Chapter Five 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 Lewis J. Edinger, “Introduction: West German Politics—Setting, Actors, Perfor- mances,” in Ursula Hoffmann-Lange, ed., Social and Political Structures in West Germany: From Authoritarianism to Postindustrial Democracy (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1991), 5. Werner J. Patzelt, “Ostdeutsche Abgeordnete: Amtsverstaéndnis, Amtsausiib- ung und gesellschaftliche Verwurzelung,” unpublished manuscript (Institute of Political Science, Technical University, Dresden, 1994); and Patzelt, “Legis- lators of New Parliaments: The Case of East Germany,” in Lawrence D. Longley, ed., Working Papers on Comparative Legislative Studies (Appleton, Wisc.: Lawrence University, 1994). See also Rohrschneider, “Report from the Labora- tory.” Patzelt, “Legislators of New Parliaments,” My Brandenburg survey included a question asking respondents to place themselves on a left-right scale. Over half of the respondents placed them- selves all the way to the left. Almost half were clustered around left-center, and only 15 percent placed themselves right of center. “Old Politics” issues, based on industrial or material values, reflect an em- phasis on economic security, growth (economic), material satisfaction, and a tendency to favor the status quo over attempts at system reform. “New Politics” issues, on the other hand, are based on postindustrial or postmaterial values. This type of politics focuses attention on new issues such as the environment and gender equality, and new definitions of “growth,” “the good life,” and “security.” For more on the development of postmaterialist values and a new politics agenda in advanced industrial societies, see Ronald Inglehart, The Silent Revolution: Changing Values and Political Styles among Western Pub- lics (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1977); and Ronald Inglehart, Culture Shift in Advanced Industrial Society (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Uni- versity Press, 1990). Wilhelm Birklin et al., Eliten in Deutschland: Rekrutierung und Integration (Opladen: Leske and Budrich, 1997), 373. Ibid., 340. Patzelt, “Ostdeutsche Abgeordnete” and “Legislators of New Parliaments.” Werner J. Patzelt, “German MPs and Their Roles,” 61; emphasis mine. Max Kaase, “Consensus, Conflict and Democracy in Germany,” German Poli- tics, vol. 6, no. 2 (August 1997), 1—28, at 3. The author thanks Ursula Hoffmann-Lange for her useful comments regarding consensual decision-making in the new state parliaments. Eckhard Schréter, “Administrators from East and West Berlin,” in Roger Woods, ed., Understanding the Past, Managing the Future (Lanham, Md.: Uni- versity Press of America, 1994). Ibid., 66-67. See Peter Beckers and Uwe Jonas, “Umbruch und Innovation in der Ost- Berliner Bezirksverwaltung,” unpublished manuscript (Berlin: Freie Univer- sitat Berlin, 1993), 37. Patrick Altdorfer views what he calls “socialist regionalism” in the east a type of left-wing populism. Altdorfer,” Competing German Identities: Nationalism vs. Regionalism in Unified Germany,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the Midwest Political Science Association, Chicago, April 6-8, 1995. 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 253 “Ausschuss entlastet Stolpe,” Der Tagesspiegel, April 29, 1994. “Sympathien fiir Stolpe in Brandenburg ungebrochen,” Der Tagesspiegel, De- cember 4, 1993, and “A Portrait of the Informer (as People’s Champion),” New York Times, April 15, 1993. In the question of the survey addressing the preferred path to unification, the article 146 model (with a new all-German constitution) received the most sup- port, while the article 23 path that ultimately prevailed received much weaker support. Werner J. Patzelt and Roland Schirmer, “Parliamentarismusgriindung in den neuen Bundeslandern,” Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, B27/96 (June 28, 1996), 20—28, at 27; translation mine. John W. Berry, “Acculturation: A Comparative Analysis of Alternative Frame- works,” in Ronald J. Samuda and Sandra L. Woods, eds., Perspectives in Immi- grant and Minority Education (Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1983). Ibid. Dieter Segert uses the term “insecure actors,” which is very fitting here. Dieter Segert, “Not a Right Name—The Function of Borrowed Political Identities in the Post-Communist Process,” paper presented at the World Congress of the International Political Science Association, Berlin, August 21—25, 1994. This perceived need to catch up is the logical extension of what Habermas called the nachholende Revolution, the remedial revolution(s), which over- threw Leninist-type regimes in 1989. See Jiirgen Habermas, “Nachholende Revolution und linker Revisionsbedarf: Was heisst Sozialismus heute?” Die Nachholende Revolution: Kleine Politische Schriften (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1990). Christoph Dieckmann uses this term in “Die Ossis: Fremdlinge im eigenen Haus,” Die Zeit, (May 24, 1996). Wolfgang Thierse, Mit eigener Stimme sprechen (Munich: Piper, 1992), 46. Translation mine. Ibid. The parliamentary investigation of allegations of Stolpe’s past dealings with the GDR state and the Stasi began in January of 1992. The spp parliamentary party published the following reports on the subject: “Wer war Tater—wer war Opfer?” (Potsdam, November, 1991) and “Der Bericht: Der Stolpe-Untersuch- ungsausschuss” (Potsdam, June 1994). It must be noted that nearly every parliamentarian (the exceptions are the members of the pps) had/has a western legislative aid. Moreover, the advisors in the press and public relations offices of the major parties in the eastern parliaments are western. This author found it significant that these western advisors were almost always present at interviews with party Fraktion leaders or ministers of the CDU and SPD. 6 Elites and the Masses in Postcommunist Germany 1 2 See David Easton, A Framework for Political Analysis (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1965), especially 124-125. Dale Tuttle adds to this explanation the issue of identity-based conflict. Refer- 254 Notes to Chapter Six 10 ring to the challenges of integrating west and east, he notes, “What it means to be ‘German’ has changed over the past fifty years, and it appears that group perceptions of identity are being challenged once again by the forces of assim- ilation. When this evolving sense of identity is combined with the impact of the assimilation process, the outburst of rightist violence and the slow govern- mental response to it seem somewhat less mysterious, although no less dis- turbing.” Tuttle, “The Assimilation of East Germany and the Rise of Identity- Based Violence against Foreigners in the Unified German State,” German Poli- tics and Societies, no. 31 (Spring 1994), 63—83, at 64. See also Manfred Kuechler, “The Road to German Unity: Mass Sentiment in East and West Germany,” Public Opinion Quarterly, vol. 56 (1992): 53-76; data from the opinion research organization Emnid Institute, in Bielefeld, reported in “Erst vereint, nun entzweit,” Der Spiegel, no. 3 (1993); from the Allensbach Institute for Public Opinion Research, cited in Ilse Spittmann, “Fiinf Jahre danach—wieviel Einheit brauchen wir?” Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, no. 38 (September 15, 1995), 3-8; Lothar Fritze, “Irritationen im deutsch-deutschen Verienigungsprozess,” Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, no. 27 (June 30, 1995), 3-9; and the numerous reports by Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann on public opin- ion in the new states which appear in Foreign Broadcast Information Service, Daily Reports, Western Europe; see, for example, reports 92-039 (February 27, 1992), 93-004 (January 7, 1993), 94-039 (February 28, 1994), 95-051 (March 16, 1995), and 95-122 (June 26, 1995). Figures cited in David P. Conradt, The German Polity (New York: Longman, 1993), 60. See table 1 in Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann, “Changing from Dictatorship to Democracy without a Change in Journalists: A Report on a Joint German- American Research Project on the Development of Democracy in the New East German States and the Role of the Mass Media,” paper presented to the annual meeting of the World Congress of the International Political Science Associa- tion, Berlin, August 21—25, 1994, p. 5. Figures cited in Rolf Riessig, “Einstellungen und Orientierungen der Ost- deutschen—zwischen Kontinuitaét und Wandel,” report prepared for the con- ference “Ostdeutsche Meinungsbildung im Wandel—Stimmungen, Einstell- ungen, Werte, Verhalten,” sponsored by Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, Potsdam, March 6, 1997, p. 6. Considering margin for error in the measures, it is difficult to say there was a decline in trust. Rather, at very minimum, there was no increase in the 1991— 1992 period. Derlien cites the polling data of Stephan Lowenhaupt, whose doctoral disserta- tion (in preparation) deals with trust in institutions in the east and west since unification. See Hans-Ulrich Derlien, “Elite Circulation and Institutional Con- solidation in Eastern Germany,” paper presented at annual meeting of the Ger- man Studies Association, Chicago, September 21—24, 1995, p. 13. Heinrich Oberreuter, “Role of Parliamentarians and Their Relationship with Their Electors,” Human Rights Law Journal, vol. 9, no. 4 (1988), 413—426, at 416. Ibid. Avil 12 13 14 15 16 / 18 19 20 2a 22 255 Jiirgen Habermas, The Past as Future, interview with Michael Haller, ed. Max Pensky (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1994). This definition from Samuel Barnes, cited in Lewis Edinger’s Political Leader- ship in Industrialized Societies (New York: Wiley, 1967), 63. This definition is adapted from Samuel H. Barnes, Representation in Italy: Institutionalized Tradition and Electoral Choice (Chicago: University of Chi- cago Press, 1977), 2. For more on representation, see Warren Miller and Donald E. Stokes, “Constit- uency Influence in Congress,” American Political Science Review, vol. 57 (1963), 45-56; and Hanna F. Pitkin, The Concept of Representation (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967). Country studies of political representa- tion also include Barnes, Representation in Italy; Philip E. Converse and Roy Pierce, Political Representation in France (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1986); and Barbara G. Farah, “Political Representa- tion in West Germany: The Institution of Maintenance of Mass-Elite Linkages,” Ph.D. dissertation, University of Michigan, 1980. Thirteen percent were undecided; findings in Noelle-Neumann, “Changing from Dictatorship,” 24. Again, 13 percent were undecided. Ibid., p. 25. Findings of Infratest Burke, an opinion research organization in Berlin, con- firm the notion that eastern elite values are representative of eastern mass values. According to the organization, “Ost-Eliten sind ideologisch offenbar stark in der Bevélkerung verankert. In zentralen Bereichen—wie Einstellung zur Demokratie, Kritik an der Verwirklichung, sozialer Sicherheit, Chancen- gleichheit und Gleichberechtigung, sowie dem Festhalten am Fiirsorge—und Wohlfahrtsstaat—sind grosse Einstellungsahnlichkeiten zwischen Ost-Elite und ostdeutscher Bevélkerung feststellbar.” From “Thesen zu Stimmungen, Einstellungen, Werte und Verhalten von Ostdeutschen,” paper presented by Rita Muller-Hilmer of Infratest Burke to the conference “Ostdeutsche Mein- ungsbildung im Wandel—Stimmungen, Einstellungen, Werte, Wandel und Verhalten,” sponsored by Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, Potsdam, March 6, 1997, Dale Politbarometer findings cited in Wochenschau (Schwalbach: Wochenschau Verlag, 1993), p. 4. There are segments of the elite and mass populations that do reflect an em- phasis on New Politics concerns. In the mass public, these people are found among the highly educated, intellectual groups as well as among younger gen- erations. In the elite population, the civic groups, the Btindnis 90 parliamen- tary groups, and, to some extent, the leadership of the PDS represent a new politics set of interests. See Hans-Georg Betz, “The PDs in the New German Party System,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the Midwest Political Science Association, Chicago, April 6—8, 1995. “Im Stadtevergleich: Der neue Osten,” cover story of Der Spiegel, vol. 41 (1996), 50-67. Muller-Hilmer, “Thesen zu Stimmungen,” 3—4. See Werner J. Patzelt, “Die gesellschaftliche Vernetzung ostdeutscher Parla- mentarier,” Historical Social Research, vol. 20, no. 4 (1995), 87-122, at 93. 256 Notes to Chapter Six 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 Ibid., 98. Werner J. Patzelt and Roland Schirmer, “Parlamentarismusgriindung in den neuen Bundeslaéndern,” Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, B27/96 (June 28, 1996), 20—28, at 26. See Barbara Donovan, “Transfer or Transformation? The Volksparteien in the Five New States,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the German Stud- ies Association, Chicago, September 21—24, 1995; and Stephen Padgett, Par- ties and Party Systems in the New Germany (Aldershot, England: Dartmouth, 1993). Joanne Bay Brizinski and Christopher Thanner, “1994 German Election and Predictors of Party Support,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the Midwest Political Science Association, Chicago, April 6—8, 1995, table 7. Rehberg spoke out at a CDU meeting in Hamburg. “Im Western Neues tiber den Osten,” Berliner Zeitung, 9 October 1996. “Gemein und ungerecht,” Der Spiegel, no. 8 (1996), 32. In particular, Rehberg’s critiques aimed at the 1994 federal election campaign of his party, which fea- tured attacks on the PDs as “red-painted fascists” and “red socks.” The cam- paign was highly controversial in the east, where some took the attacks on the pps and their “red” past as an attack on the GDR in general and an affront to easterners’ identity and background. Schauble quoted in Meredith A. Heiser, “Failed Fusion between Berlin and Brandenburg: A Failure of Political Leadership?” unpublished manuscript (Los Altos Hills, Calif.: Foothill College, 1997), 19. Das Regierungsprogramm ’94 (Bonn: SPD, Referat Offentlichkeit, 1994), 23. Interview by author with an assistant to Governor Manfred Stolpe, Potsdam, 1994. For an excellent account of the West German SPpD’s thinking about and dealings with the East German SED, see Timothy Garton Ash, In Europe’s Name: Ger- many and the Divided Continent (New York: Random House, 1993). “Ost-spD: Der Innenminister und die PDs,” Die Zeit online, July 26, 1996; “Zukunft links von der Mitte,” Der Spiegel, no. 45 (1995), 38; “Mit roten Socken zur Macht,” Der Spiegel, vol. 33 (1996), 32-34. “Neve Sau,” Der Spiegel, vol. 48 (1995), 33. This is a forum for discussion among SPD leaders about regional problems in the five new states. In an interview with Der Spiegel, Stolpe described the reason for forming the Forum Ostdeutschland: “[so] that the east Germans no longer feel themselves to be second-class citizens.” “Explosives Gemisch im Osten,” Der Spiegel, no. 15 (1996), 34—37, at 35. See Eckhard Jesse, “SPD and PDS Relationships,” German Politics, vol. 6, no. 3 (December 1997), 89-102, at 99. Ibid., 100. Politbarometer poll cited in Foreign Broadcast Information Service, Daily Re- ports, Western Europe, FBIS-WEU-95-122, Washington, D.C., June 26, 1995. “Die Partei ist westdeutsch,” Der Spiegel, vol. 9 (1996), 41—42. Wahlprogramm des Landesverbandes Brandenburg zu den Landtagswahlen 1994, Frankfurt am Oder, April 17, 1994. This is the title of a piece written by party leader Michael Schumann, in Dis- 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 257 put: Pressedienst PDS (Berlin: Party Headquarters of the PDs, February 1993), 4-10. See the Founding Appeal of the Committees for Justice in Deutschland Archiv, vol. 25, no. 8 (August 1992), 890—895. The Ost-Partei, which attracted 3,500 members in the first few days after its founding in Berlin in February 1994, views itself as a “social-liberal” alterna- tive to the established parties. See Der Tagesspiegel, February 23, 1994. Figures from Ursula Feist, “Nichtwahler 1994,” Aus Politik und Zeitge- schichte, B51-52/95 (December 23, 1994), 35—46, at 36. See the special issue of Wochenschau, Politikverdrossenheit, vol. 44 (Decem- ber 1993). Related to this discussion of political mobilization is the issue of the inclusive- ness of the parties’ leadership. This issue grew in importance in the east as the institution-building phase of the transition passed. Only the PDs can claim to have a homegrown leadership. At the national level, the presidium of the cbU is comprised of three easterners out of sixteen (18.7 percent). The SPD pre- sidium contains two easterners out of thirteen (12.5 percent). In both parties, the representation of easterners in the party leadership is still below the per- centage of easterners in the German electorate—22 percent. At the state level, two of the five spD state organizations in the east are headed by western party managers. In the CDU, the number is one out of five. In general, the position of easterners in the FDP party leadership also has not been impressive. The only eastern vice chairman was Rainer Ortleb who resigned in 1994 from his party and cabinet posts for reasons cited earlier. Like the CDU, the FpP in the east has been burdened by conflicts between old bloc party members and new mem- bers. Even more than the CDU, however, the FpP leadership has been plagued by past political associations, causing many to resign their posts. As for the Al- liance 90/Greens, since their merger, the eastern segment of the party has lost influence in the party—both in terms of their positions in party leadership and party ideology and identity. Furthermore, the attacks from some Alliance 90/Greens politicians (and former civil rights activists), for example Giinter Nooke’s criticisms of Brandenburg governor Manfred Stolpe, further repelled some easterners. In the 1994 elections, about 80,000 Alliance 90/Greens sup- porters voted for the pps, while only 7,000 some voters left the PDs for the Alliance 90/Greens. See INFAS polling data, reported in Hans-Georg Betz, “Al- liance 90/Greens: From Fundamental Opposition to Black-Green,” in David P. Conradt et al., eds., Germany’s New Politics (Tempe, Ariz.: German Studies Review, 1995). November 1990 poll cited by Hans-Joachim Veen, “The First All-German Elec- tions,” in Padgett, ed., Parties and Party Systems, 47—86, at 71. Brizinski and Thanner, “1994 German Election.” Figures cited in Heinrich Tiemann, “Die SPD in den neuen Bundeslandern,” Zeitschrift fiir Parlamentsfragen (August 1993), 416—422, at 417. See Thomas Poguntke, “No Future? Alliance 90/The Greens in East Germany,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Political Science Asso- ciation, San Francisco, August 29—September 1, 1996. An examination of the programmatic and organizational evolution of the PDs is 258 Notes to Chapter Six 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 offered by Ann L. Phillips, “Socialism with a New Face? The PDS in Search of Reform,” East European Politics and Societies, vol. 8, no. 3 (Fall 1994), 495— 530. The PDs gained votes in the east in 1994. The change in percentage of the vote since 1990 for the pps: +8.3 for Brandenburg, +9.3 Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, +7.7 Sachsen, +8.6 Sachsen-Anhalt, +8.8 Thiiringen; while the FpP lost in every state in the east: —7.1 Brandenburg, —5.7 Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, —8.6 Sachsen, —15.6 Sachsen-Anhalt, —14.6 Thiiringen. Reported in Brizinski and Thanner, “1994 German Election.” Hans-George Golz, “PDS von Innen,” Deutschland Archiv, vol. 27, no. 9 (Sep- tember 1994), 903-904, at 903. Ibid. Ibid. Jiirgen Falter and Markus Klein, “Die Wahler der PDS bei der Bundestagswahl 1994,” Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, B 51—-52/95 (December 23, 1994), 22— 34, at 26. Golz, “PDS von Innen,” 904. The Systemintegrierten want to be politically active again; however, they are often refused by the western parties. Some eastern party leaders, especially in the CDU, have recently identified this as a tactical error. Kreikenbom’s study is cited in “Das Bése aus Bonn,” Der Spiegel, vol. 1 (1996), 30—35. Infratest poll results reported in Foreign Broadcast Information Service, Daily Reports, Western Europe, FBIS-WEU-94-039, Washington, D.C., February 28, 1994, p. 36. Falter and Klein, “Die Wahler der PDS,” 29. Ibid. “Fliiche tiber das Volk,” Der Spiegel, vol. 45 (1995), 41—46, at 41. Der Spiegel, vol. 27 (1994), 34-39. Polling results cited in Betz, “Alliance 90/Greens,” 9. Public opinion data cited in Helga A. Welsh, “Four Years and Several Elections Later: The Eastern German Political Landscape after Unification,” in Conradt et al., eds., Germany’s New Politics, 35—50, at 46. Gerald R. Kleinfeld, “The Return of the pps,” in Conradt et al., eds., Germany’s New Politics, 193—220, at 206. See Camilla Werner, “Direktdemokratische Entscheidungsverfahren in der Bundesrepublik Deutschland? Zum Diskussionsstand und zu den Meinungen der Abgeordneten des 11. Bundestages und der Volkskammer,” in Hans-Dieter Klingemann, Richard Stéss, and Bernhard Wessels, eds., Politische Klasse und politische Institutionen: Probleme und Perspektiven der Elitenforschung (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1991), 417. Thomas Leif, “Hoffnung auf Reformen?: Reformstau und Partizipationsblock- aden in den Parteien,” Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, B43/93 (October 22, 1993), 32. Werner, “Direktdemocratische Entscheidungsverfahren,” 419-20. Emnid Institute, “Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, 7. Welle,” Bielefield, May 1997. “Identitatsgewinn im Aufbau Ost: Diskussionspapier zur Werte- und Strategie- debatte ‘CDUI 2000’ in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern.” Published by the CDU Fraktion in the Mecklenburg-Vorpommern Landtag (Schwerin, January 1996). 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 259 According to a report in Der Spiegel, Hans-Joachim Veen, Director of Research at the CDU-affiliated foundation, Konrad Adenauer Stiftung, found that half of the PDS clientele were of the technical intelligentsia. Veen told Der Spiegel that a good half of the PDS sympathizers, in particular the technical intelligent- sia, could eventually be won over by the CDU. “Schnell ans Meer,” Der Spiegel, vol. 47 (1995), 50-51. See Bernhard Wessels, “Biirger und Organisationen—Ost- und Westdeutsch- land: Vereint und doch verschieden?” (Berlin: Wissenschaftszentrum Berlin, June 1992), 10 and especially 17-18. Reported in Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann, “Changing from Dictatorship to De- mocracy,” 20. Wessels, “Biirger und Organisationen.” The importance of these networks of communication and mobilization for societal integration is recognized by Bernhard Boll in his study of economic interest organizations in the five new states. He concludes: “Without a doubt, the organizational structures of an intermediary system have been established in the new Lander along the same lines as in the west. However, even using rather course-grained indicators, a number of problems can be identified. A critical decline in membership, acute problems of elite recruitment and a pre- carious financial situation, are common to all the associations dealt with here. . . . [Organizational weakness inevitably limits their political capacity and their ability to perform their normal ‘integration’ functions.” See Boll, “Interest Organization and Intermediation in the New Lander,” German Poli- tics, vol. 3, no. 1 (April 1994), 114-128, at 127. For extensive data on the societal/organizational linkages of eastern parlia- mentary elites, see Werner J. Patzelt, “Die gesellschaftliche Vernetzung ost- deutscher Parlamentarier,” Historical Social Research, vol. 20, no. 4 (1995), 87-122. Fora discussion of the organizational ties of elites in various sectors in east and west, see Martina Sauer and Kai-Uwe Schnapp, “Elitenintegration durch Kommunikation? Eine Analyse der Kontaktmuster der Positionseliten,” in Wilhelm Biirklin, et al., eds., Eliten in Deutschland (Opladen: Leske und Budrich, 1997). “Was macht ihr da im Schloss?” pps Fraktion Mecklenburg-Vorpommern (1997). Figure cited in Conradt, The German Polity, 212. An Emnid survey in 1991 found that 82 percent of easterners polled considered themselves “second- class Germans.” Emnid, “Umfrage Ost-Deutschland 23 Oktober—11 Novem- ber,” Bielefeld, 1991. Patzelt (“Ostdeutsche Abgeordnete” and “Legislators of New Parliaments”) emphasizes the prevalence of “hill style” over “home style” in his work, which draws from Richard F. Fenno’s “U.S. House Members in Their Constituencies: An Exploration,” American Political Science Review, vol. 71 (1977), 883-917. The Potsdam Elite Study conducted under the direction of Wilhelm Biirklin and his colleagues at the University of Potsdam reached a similar conclusion for elites across all sectors. The authors noted that “the East German position- holders showed themselves to be progressively nearing the value orientations of West German elites, while the people of the new states were still character- ized by and large by a melange of values attained through GpR socialization and 260 Notes to Chapter Six 82 83 the Prussian tradition of the ‘Untertan’, a Protestant ethic, and a socialist prin- ciple of egalitarianism.” See Viktoria Kaina’s contribution, “Wertorientier- ungen im Eliten-Bevolkerungsvergleich: Vertikale Distanzen, geteilte Loy- alitaéten und das Erbe der Trennung,” in Biirklin, et al., eds., Eliten in Deutsch- land, 386. On this point my findings concur with those of Patzelt in his broader study of eastern parliamentarians. Donovan, “Transfer or Transformation?”; Scott Erb, “A Comparison of Party Politics in Latvia and the ‘New States’ of Germany,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the Midwest Political Science Association, Chicago, April 18-21, 1996; and Helga Welsh, “Four Years and Several Elections Later: The Eastern German Political Landscape after Unification,” in D. Conradt, et al., eds., Germany’s New Politics. 7 Transplanting Democracy i 10 See Andrew Michta, “Democratic Consolidation in Poland after 1989,” in Ka- ren Dawisha and Bruce Parrot, eds., The Consolidation of Democracy in East- Central Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 66-108; and Ray Taras, “The End of the Walesa Era,” Current History (March 1996), 124— 29: Hans-Joachim Maaz, Behind the Wall: The Inner Life of Communist Germany (New York: W. W. Norton, 1995), 195-196. See Richard L. Merritt, Democracy Imposed: U.S. Occupation Policy and the German Public, 1945-1949 (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1995). Peter Merkl, “Allied Strategies of Effecting Political Change,” Public Policy, vol. 17 (1968), 95. David F. Patton, “The Allied Occupation and German Unification Compared: A Forgotten Lesson from the 1940s,” German Politics and Society, vol. 14, no. 4 (Winter 1996), 1—22, at 17. Lothar de Maiziere quoted in the New York Times, October 14, 1994. Polling data from the Emnid Institute surveys of eastern German opinion, 1990-1995. Hans-Joachim Veen and Carsten Zelle, “National Identity and Political Pri- orities in Eastern and Western Germany,” German Politics, vol. 4, no. 1 (April 1995), 1-26, at 24. Over the last five years, Der Spiegel has featured a number of stories relating to the deep east-west divisions that still pervade German society and politics. One cover story in the summer of 1995, entitled “Proud of Our Own Lives,” reported the many ways in which eastern Germans view themselves as distinct from western Germans and how the East German Heimat (homeland) has been rediscovered by many easterners, resulting in the resurrection of GDR prod- ucts, customs, and modes of entertainment. “Stolz aufs eigene Leben,” Der Spiegel, no. 27 (1995), 40-64. For example, “A Wall of Resentment Now Divides Germany,” New York Times, October 14, 1994; and the Economist's twenty-two-page special report, “Still Divided: A Survey of Germany,” on the seventh anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, November 9, 1996. 11 12 13 14 15 16 Al/ 18 19 20 21 22 23 261 For example, the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung’s conference, “East German Opinion in Transition,” and, in the United States, the New Hampshire Symposiums continue to explore East Germany and, in particular, the dimensions of the east-west integration challenge. There is also evidence that this values gap has grown since unification. See Heiner Meulemann, “Research Report: Value Changes in Germany after Uni- fication, 1990-1995,” German Politics, vol. 6, no. 1 (April 1997), 122-139. See Ilse Spittmann, “pbSs—Anwalt der Ostdeutschen?” Deutschland Archiv, vol. 27, no. 7 (July 1994), 673-674, in which she reports several findings of the Allensbach Institute for Demoskopie. This old/new politics divide between the east and west is noted by Gert- Joachim Glaessner (“Zwischenbilanz: Die neue Bundesrepublik fiinf Jahre nach dem Ende des Kommunismus,” Deutschland Archiv, no. 1 [January 1995], 10-20) and Hans-Georg Betz (“The PDS in the New German Party Sys- temi,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the Midwest Political Science Association, Chicago, April 6-8, 1995). The discussion recalls the distinctions made by Russell Dalton et al., eds., Electoral Change in Advanced Industrial Democracies: Realignment or Dealignment (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univer- sity Press, 1984). Gert-Joachim Glaessner, “Zwischenibilanz: Die neue Bundesrepublik fiinf Jahre nach dem Ende des Kommunismus,” Deutschland Archiv, no. 1 (January 1995), 13. Translation mine. Juirgen Habermas, The Past as Future, interview with Michael Haller, ed. Max Pensky (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1994), 47. Joyce Marie Mushaben, “Auferstanden aus Ruinen: Social Capital and Demo- cratic Identity in the New Lander,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the Midwest Political Science Association meeting, Chicago, April 10-13, 1997, p. 17. Reissig, address to the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung conference “Ostdeutsche Mei- nungsbildung im Wandel,” Potsdam, March 6, 1997, p. 7. Ilse Spittmann notes, “In this profound upheaval process, the east Germans wanted to bring not only their interests, but also their competence. And that is their right. The election success of the PDS stems also from the fact that it is the only party in which the east Germans are not dominated by west Germans.” See Spittmann, “Ftinf Jahre danach—Wieviel Einheit brauchen wir?” Aus Pol- itik und Zeitgeschichte, B38/95 (September 15, 1995), 1—8, at 7. This was pointed out by Hans Misselwitz, director of the Agency for Political Education in the state of Brandenburg and a former Protestant church activist in the GDR. See Hans Misselwitz, “Politikwahrnehmung und Politikvermitt- lung in den neuen Bundeslandern,” Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte (Novem- ber 11, 1994), 3-11. Reinhard Héppner quoted in the Sdchsische Zeitung, 29 June 1994, cited in Meredith Heiser, “New Politics for New Constituents,” Transition, vol. 1, no. 12 (14 July 1995), 44—50, at 47. H6ppner quoted in Markische Allgemeine, 7 July 1994, cited in Heiser, “New Politics.” For example, see the critique of the German party system by Erwin K. Scheuch and Ute Scheuch, Cliquen, Kliingel und Karrieren: Uber den Verfall der poli- 262 Notes to Chapter Seven 24 25 26 27 28 tischen Parteien—eine Studie (Hamburg: Reinbek, 1992). Also Hans Herbert Arnim, Staat ohne Diener: Was schert die Politiker das Wah! des Volkes? (Mu- nich: Kindler, 1993). Johannes Rau, the spD-backed candidate for federal president, was clearly the favorite among people in both parts of Germany, yet Roman Herzog was elected by the presidential congress when members of the FpP fell into ranks with the CDU-CSU, their Bonn coalition partners. Heiser, “New Politics,” 47. See the special issue Constitutional Policy in Unified Germany, of German Politics, vol. 3 (December 1994). Thierse quoted in Heiser, “New Politics,” 48. 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See also Polit- ical mimicry Bahro, Rudolf, 50 Basic Law, 22, 217 Baylis, Thomas, 51 Bergem, Wolfgang, 56 Berking, Helmut, 66 Berlin parliamentarians, 124—25, 161 Berlin Republic, 218 Berlin Wall, 1, 6, 21, 54, 61, 64, 69 Bezirk(e), 32,94, 104, 111 Biedenkopf, Kurt, 139, 147, 216 Birgit M., 7-8, 14, 199, 235 n.1 Bisky, Lothar, 139, 176, 188 Bloc parties, 3,6, 34, 42,49, 71—72, 75, 79-80, 88, 91, 95, 100-103, 124, 136, 144—45, 187. See also National front Bohley, Barbel, 82 Bohme, Ibrahim, 72, 98 Brandenburg, 32—33, 149, 163—64, 171, 173-74, 183, 188; parliamentary in- vestigation of Minister President Stolpe, 139, 253 n.46 Brandenburg way, 129, 149, 188 Brandt, Willy, 22, 82, 102, 126, 171 Breakdown of old regime, 24, 39, 41. See also German Democratic Re- public: end of Bundesrat, 32, 109 Bundestag, 31-32, 109, 183, 212, 220 280 Index Birgerbewegungen, 8, 63, 65—66, 102. See also Civic movements Birgerrechtler, 57, 59, 62, 67, 90. See also Civic activists Burklin, Wilhelm, 126, 167. See also Potsdam Elite Study Capital: move of, 217 Catch-all parties, 123, 131, 165-66, 179, 185, 218 Catholic Church, 5 Ceausescu, Nicolae, 201 Christlich Demokratische Union (CDU): East German, 49, 70-75, 80-82, 86, 89, 126, 229; West German or unified, 89, 95-97, 100—103, 116-19, 126, 128, 144-45, 148, 165-70, 179-90, 215, 229-30 Christlich Soziale Union (Csu), 72-73, 116, 170, 176, 182-83, 229, 230 Church, 72. See also Catholic Church; Protestant Church Civic activists, 59, 62, 77, 83, 88, 90, 105, 201. See also Biirgerrechtler Civic demobilization, 71, 159 Civic movement, 8, 63, 65—71, 76, 81, 82, 125, 137, 217. See also Biirger- bewegung Civil service, 92, 107, 248 n.15; civil servants, 183 Civil society, 62 Coalition discipline, 130-31 Coalition models, 172, 187-190. See also Magdeburg coalition model; Schwerin coalition model Committees for justice, 177 Conformity, 44, 53—54; elite, 107, 140, 145, 152 Constantinescu, Emil, 201 Constituency work, 125, 192, 194, 214 Cottbus, 164 Counterelite, 58, 197. See also Gegenelite Cultural competence, 213, 215 Culturalization, 19, 23, 202 Culture, 19, 209; of postcommunist so- cieties, 19. See also German Demo- cratic Republic: culture; Political culture Currency conversion. See Kohl govern- ment: decision Czechoslovakia, 11, 25, 43, 49-50, 79, 118, 204, 222; Charter 77 in, 58; Civic Forum in, 200 Dahl, Robert, 24 Decommunization, 30, 35, 90, 95, 98, 112, 247 n.11. See also Transitional justice Deculturation, 143 Deindustrialization in the east, 21, 126, 133-34, 157, 162 De Maiziere, Lothar, 72, 86-87, 89, 96, 98, 110-11, 148, 204, 214—15; gov- ernment, 86 Demobilization: of the civic movement, 77; of the mass public, 18, 25, 176 Democracy: blueprint for, 39, 78, 90; consolidation of, 23, 25-26, 39, 115, 158, 209; representative versus plebiscitarian, 125, 132-33, 159, 179, 186, 191, 216; stability of, 155, 165; transition to, 24—25, 54, 85; West German, 37, 77—78, 132 Democracy Now, 70, 74, 232 Democratic Awakening, 66, 70-2, 74, 229, 232 Democratic centralism, 32, 120. See also GDR: system Democratic legitimation, 23, 30 Democratization, 18, 146; challenges of postcommunist, 14, 21; directed, 37, 153, 160, 165, 197; in East Central Europe, 199—202; in eastern Ger- many in the 1990s, 10, 12, 23, 31, 69, 79, 105, 208, 213; GDR elite resis- tance to, 68; political learning in, 36; in postwar West Germany, 9, 203; role of people in, 14 Demokratische Bauernpartei Deutsch- lands (DBD), 49, 70—72, 229 Demonstrations. See Mass demonstra- tions Demonstrators, 61 Derlien, Hans-Ulrich, 157 Destalinization, 97 Deutsche Soziale Union (DSU), 71—74, 109, 229, 230 Deutsche Volksunion (DvU), 155, 204, 229, 230 Dewes, Richard, 172, 189, 216 Diestel, Peter Michael, 148 Dissent, 55, 57 Dominant culture. See Private culture Duchac, Josef, 139 East Chamber, 212 East German biography. See GDR: biography East German communist party: monop- oly on power, 13; political goals of, 44. See also Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands (SED) East Germans: adjustment to western system and culture, 2, 126; exit and voice, 64; relationship to civic move- ments, 66—67; during revolution of 1989, 67, 81 Education: in the GDR, 47, 52; military, 47,57 Election alliances, 74 Elections: 1989 local, 64—65; 1990 Bundestag, 3, 11, 29, 87, 89, 110, 182, 205; 1990 Lander, 3, 10, 94—97, 103; 1990 local, 104; 1990 Volkskammer, 6, 10, 69, 71, 73—75, 83, 86, 104; 1994 Bundestag, 150, 163, 182, 213; 1993— 94 Lander, 150, 169, 182—83; 1998 Bundestag, 213; 1998 Sachsen- Anhalt, 155, 172, 204 281 Electoral campaigns, 74, 185, 206 Electoral support, 177-84 Elite building: directed, 79, 152; in new administrative institutions, 92-94, 248 n.15; in new state parliaments, 32, 89—90, 155, 202, 207, 213; postcommunist, 14, 17, 28, 34, 41, 112,199 Elite-elite relations, 26—27, 198, 207 Elite-mass integration, 27, 177-178, 207, 259n.76, 259n.81. See also Verti- cal integration Elite-mass relations, 26, 31, 38, 39, 125, 158-159, 186, 216; in the GDR, 60; linkages, 155, 161—98 (see also Elite- mass integration) Elite(s): administrative, 97, 111, 134— 35; alternative, 60, 63, 65; behavior, 142—49, 152, 198; circulation, 77, 95—96; culture, 25, 35, 36, 60, 113— 14, 121, 124—35, 142; definition of, 24; East German, 34, 76, 86, 88-89, 161; eastern elites at national level, 110-11, 212, 257 n.46; ersatz, 12, 91— 92; GDR, 42, 50, 61, 111, 138, 161; homegrown, 37, 109, 195, 210-11; identity (see Identity: East German); indigenous, 38, 112, 139, 152; inte- grative functions of, 26, 28, 193, 195, 214; local, 216; national, 32; post- communist political, 24, 30, 60, 120— 21, 207; recruitment, 30, 35, 80, 87, 112, 115, 165, 251 n.11; replacement of GDR, 38, 41, 62, 98, 111; reser- voirs, 59, 99; resocialization of, 38, 112 (see Professionalization); struc- ture, 25, 35; training, 111; value con- sensus, 27, 115 (see also Horizontal integration); western imports, 4, 5, 36, 38, 60, 108—9, 119, 129, 141, 151— 52, 203, 237 n.8, 247-248 n.12, 249 n.35; West German, 20, 60, 71, 82, 107, 112-14, 123, 140 282 Index Eppelmann, Rainer, 72, 82 External actor, 19, 201. See also Elite(s): West German Federal government, 5 Federal president, 186, 217 Federal Republic of Germany (FRG), 1, 11, 106; elites in, 33, 122-123; founding, 42; institutions, 12, 22, 112, 123, 134, 214, 222; norms and procedures, 12, 19, 23, 34,129, 151, 192, 207-8; parliamentarism, 34, 107, 113, 133; relations with the GDR, 42; role in East German transi- tion, 63, 69 (see also External actor) Forum Ostdeutschland, 172, 256 n.35 Freedom trains, 64 Freie Demokratische Partei (FDP), 88, 97, 100, 103, 116—18, 128, 131, 169, 171, 172—73, 179-83, 186, 190, 218— 20, 229, 230 Freie Deutsche Jugend, 48, 52, 99, 101. See also Mass organizations Friedheim, Daniel, 68 Fulbrook, Mary, 44, 53, 114 Fusion: of Alliance 90 and the West German Greens, 173, 186; of Bran- denburg and Berlin (proposed), 14, 221; of Eastern and Western political ° parties, 76 Garton Ash, Timothy, 53 Gauck Behérde, 96-97 Gaus, Ginter, 52 Gegenelite, 55. See also Elite(s): alter- native Genscher, Hans-Dietrich, 80, 173, 181 Gerlach, Manfred, 71 German Democratic Republic (GDR): biography, 14, 135-37, 146, 170—74, 205, 216; citizenship, 42, 47; creation of, 42; dissent in, 55; economic dete- rioration of, 67, 69; elite-mass rela- tions in, 60, 141, 160; elites, 42, 61, 68 (see also Elite(s): GDR); end of, 1, 78, 144, 197; identity, 21, 205 (see also identity: East German); intellec- tuals, 55, 77; legacy, 54, 112, 160, 163, 190-92; local government in, 32; north-south division, 163; and the past, 59, 126, 173, 206-7, 211; political culture, 31, 41, 43-44, 134, 208, 241 n.10 (see also Official cul- ture; Private culture; Protest culture); political participation in, 76, 160; re- lations with FRG, 42; socialism in, 57, 206, 212; socialization, 21, 47— 49, 54, 59, 114, 121, 134, 192; system, 33, 41, 43, 44, 52,54, 112, 124, 160 Germany: federal system 31; reunifica- tion, 6; unified, 1, 39. See also Fed- eral Republic of Germany Gies, Gerd, 139 ’ Glaessner, Gert-Joachim, 207 Glasnost, 58 Gomolka, Alfred, 139 Gorbachev, Mikhail, 18, 61, 64, 200 Gortemaker, Manfred, 68 Grass, Giinter, 78 Gray zone, 49, 60, 103, 118, 139, 201 Greens: East German, 70, 74, 169, 229, 232; West German, 55, 109-10, 123, 126, 169, 173, 186, 219, 229 Gutzeit, Martin, 72, 82 Gysi, Gregor, 73, 98, 147, 176—77, 185, 202, Qe Gysi, Klaus, 73 Habermas, Jiirgen, 78, 159 Hamm-Brucher, Hildegard, 186 Havel, Vaclav, 201 Heym, Stefan, 182 Hildebrandt, Regine, 45—46, 103, 147, 211 Hoffmann-Lange, Ursula, 114 Honecker, Erich, 3,54,61—62, 68, 71, 98 Hoppner, Reinhard, 214 Helsinki Accords, 57 Human rights, 57 Hungary: former communists in, 39; Goulash communism, 43; opening of border with Austria, 64, 102; re- form movement, 50, 61, 64; revolu- tion of 1956, 43; transition to democracy, 25 Identity, 10, 135-42, 209; East German, 13, 136, 184, 196, 198, 204—5, 209— 13; loss of, 23, 199; national, 21-22, 42-43, 222; rejection of East German, 145, 198; West German, 13 Iliescu, Ion, 201 Inclusion of eastern Germans in FRG institutions, 146, 152 Independence, 147-48, 215 Initiative for Peace and Human Rights, 70, 74, 232 Institutionalization, 19, 90, 108, 150, 155, 159, 197—98, 208 Integration: of East and West Europe, 15; of East and West Germany, 14, 17, 21, 59, 110, 187, 198—99, 204-5, 207, 210; of eastern elites, 23, 143, 202, 204, 218 (see also Synthesis); hori- zontal, 27, 37, 113-15, 121, 142-53, 155, 194, 198, 202, 207, 214 (see also Elite-elite relations); vertical, 27—28, 34, 37, 155, 167-68, 187, 194, 198, 202, 207, 214-15, 259 n.76 (see also Elite-mass integration) Intellectuals: appeal “For Our Coun- try,” 77; critical East German, 55, 57, 77 Interview study, 33 Issue congruence, 38 Joint Bundestag-Bundesrat Committee on the Constitution, 217 Joppke, Christian, 57 283 Kaase, Max, 131 Kadar, Janos, 43 Kaminski, Detlef, 164 Klaus, Vaclav, 201 Kleinfeld, Gerald, 184 Kocka, Jiirgen, 69 Kohl, Helmut, 6, 22, 78, 80, 82, 86-87, 89, 126, 168, 181, 197, 237 n.9. See also Koh] government; Ten Point Plan Kohl government, 110-11; decision on currency conversion rate, 21, 237 n.9 Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands (KPD), 41 Konrad L., 2—5, 8,14, 29,55, 198, 235n.1 Krause, Gunther, 110 Kreikenbom, Henry, 183 Krenz, Egon, 68—69, 72—73 Kwasniewski, Aleksander, 200 Lafontaine, Oskar, 78, 82,171—72, 181, 215 Lander: dissolution of eastern, 31; part- nerships between eastern and west- ern, 92, 107; refounding of eastern, 31, 94, 203; western, 92 Landtag(e): eastern, 31, 94, 108, 131; gender composition of, 98. See also State parliament Leadership: old GDR, 28; patterns of, 31; vacuum in GDR, 56, 60 Legitimacy: of elites, 195; of GDR re- gime, 42; popular, 24; of system, 22, 27, 34, 39, 156—58, 160, 176—77, 195 Leihelite. See Elite(s): western imports Leipzig: Monday demonstrations, 156, Wi Leitfiguren, 146, 148, 210-11 Leninist legacies. See German Demo- cratic Republic: legacy Liberaldemokratische Partei Deutsch- lands (LDPD), 49, 70—72, 74-75, 80, ATT 229 284 Index Linkage functions. See Integration: horizontal; vertical Local government, 104, 106, 109, 111, 216 Maaz, Hans-Joachim, 43, 202 Magdeburg coalition model, 171, 174, 215-16 Marxism-Leninism, 42, 47 Mass demonstrations, 3, 156 Mass organizations, 42, 47—48, 99 MeGiar, Vladimir, 22, 201 Meckel, Markus, 72, 82 Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, 32-33, 124, 164-65, 172, 188—90, 216 Merger: of Alliance 90 and the West German Greens, 186; of two coun- tries, 9, 86; of two cultures, 14, 113 Merkel, Angela, 111 Merkl, Peter, 203 Militarization of society, 57 Mobilization of protest, 65 Modrow government, 70, 86 Monetary union, 87 Mushaben, Joyce Marie, 209 Nachholbedarf, 112, 120, 253 n.42 Nationaldemokratische Partei Deutsch- lands (NDPD), 49, 70—72, 230 National front, 72, 80, 188. See also Bloc parties National Socialism (Nazism), 127, 144 National Volksarmee, 47, 99 Neckel, Sighard, 66 Negative recruitment, 75, 95 Neue Bundesbiirger, 23, 218 New Forum, 70, 74, 82, 102, 174, 231 New politics, 123, 126, 161, 176, 191, 206, 252 n.24, 255n.19 “New Soviet Man,” 21 Niche, 18, 101, 103 Niche society, 51—52, 55, 81, 243 n.31 Noack, Arndt, 72 Nomenklatura, 49, 58; system of, 26, 161 Nonconformity. See Independence Nooke, Ginter, 173 Normalization of politics in the east, 150 Oberreuter, Heinrich, 159 Office of the Chancellor, 86—87 Official culture, 44—49, 134, 183; re- sponse to democratization, 67, 79; so- cialization into, 47—49. See also German Democratic Republic: politi- cal culture Old politics, 126, 161-62, 206, 252n.24 Opposition, 43—44, 62, 79, 197; crit- icism of GDR, 44; culture of, 44 Ortleb, Rainer, 111 Ost-Partei, 177 Ostprofil, 170, 213 Palace of the Republic, 141 Partei des Demokratischen Sozialismus (PDS), 7-8, 11, 13, 23, 73-75, 79-80, 95, 97, 100, 103, 108—9, 116-18, 128, 130, 132, 136—42, 148—51, 169, 171— 72, 174-76, 180—92, 206, 210, 215, 219-30; as advocates for eastern Ger- man interests, 199. 211—13; gains in 1994 elections, 258 n.52; voters, 219 Participation: of easterners in the new political system, 24, 160, 190; in the GDR, 76, 160 Party democracy, 122, 176, 194 Party discipline, 128, 130, 142, 145, 148, 150 Party lists, 74, 128, 193 Party system: in eastern Germany, 23, 42, 73, 167, 175, 184, 190, 219; trans- fer of western, 83, 123 Patton, David F., 203 Patzelt, Werner, 32, 123, 128, 142, 166 Peace Circle, 65 Peace movement in East Germany, 47 People’s democracies, 42 Perestroika, 58, 64 Personnel, 134, 151; indigenous, 92, 141; politically untainted, 60; west- ern German personnel in the east, 90, 92—93, 216. See also Elite(s) Pohl, Karl Otto, 87 Poland: former communists in, 39; na- tional road to communism, 43; re- form movement, 50, 61, 64; and Solidarity, 44, 57—58, 200; transition to democracy in, 25, 200 Politburo, 10, 50, 112 Political cleansing, 197. See also Tran- sitional justice Political competence, 145, 147, 151. See also Professionalization Political culture, 194; adjustment of, 1— 2,113, 193, 203, 221; communist, 43 (see also German Democratic Re- public: culture); and identity, 1 Political mimicry, 143, 198-99 Political parties, 59, 91, 101—3, 211, 213, 216, 218; development in East Germany, 71—73, 81, 95, 128, 165— 76, 194, 257 n.46; membership in, 13, 121, 177—83; mobilization strategies of, 178, 184-87, 196, 218-19; organi- zation of, 30, 178, 186, 194; western managers of, 6; West German, 12, 73, 82-83, 145 Political party functions, 166 Political system: change, 1, 19, 137; sta- bility, 2 Politics, elite-directed versus elite- directing, 159-60, 211 Politikverdrossenheit, 179, 183 Pollack, Detlef, 58 Poppe, Gerd, 53 Potsdam, 4, 32, 149, 164 Potsdam Elite Study, 126—27, 240 n.39, 259n.81 285 Private culture, 49-55, 58, 60, 79-90, 82, 191. See also German Democratic Republic: culture Private sphere, 18, 82, 219. See also Niche society Professionalization, 36, 106, 122, 143, 145, 152, 214 Proportional representation electoral system, 74, 123 Protestant church, 51, 56, 72; church in socialism, 56; and civic groups, 65; and Manfred Stolpe, 138 Protest culture, 52, 55-59, 65-66, 79— 80. See also German Democratic Re- public: culture Public opinion polls, 13, 122, 157, 161— 62, 184, 189, 191, 193, 204, 207-9, 217, 235 n.5, 254n.3, 255 n.17 Pull factors, 29-30, 62, 114-15, 142, TZ LOZ 220 Purge, 90, 247 n.11; in Czechoslovakia, 200 Push factors, 29, 115, 152 Putnam, Robert, 24 Ready-made system (or state), 11, 112, 187, 197-98, 214, 236n.5 “Really existing socialism,” 52, 58, 62, 78,174 Rechtsstaat, 83 Referendum on Brandenburg-Berlin fu- sion, 14. See also Fusion: of Branden- burg and Berlin Regional differences in the east, 163, 196, 220—21 Regionalization of politics, 210, 220—22 Regional pride, 147, 214 Rehberg, Eckhardt, 170, 189, 256 n.28. See also Strategy paper Reich, Jens, 217, 230 Reissig, Rolf, 210 Representation, 161; ideological, 161— 62; social, 161, 198 286 Index Republikaner, 230 Revolution of 1989: civic phase, 63-68, 75; in East Central Europe, 144, 199; in the GDR, 59, 62-63, 83, 105, 112; interpretations of, 77—79; national phase, 63, 68-71, 75, 77 Ringstorff, Harald, 172, 189 Romania, 43, 201 Roundtable(s), 62, 69-71 Sachsen, 32, 163 Sachsen-Anhalt, 32, 131, 155, 171-72, 174, 187-88, 215. See also Elections: 1998 Sachsen-Anhalt; Magdeburg coalition model Scharping, Rudolf, 181, 215 Schauble, Wolfgang, 86, 170 Schmidt, Helmut, 102 Schréder, Gerhard, 110, 212 Schroder, Richard, 82 Schumann, Michael, 188 Schumpeter, Joseph, 24 Schwerin, 7, 32, 192 Schwerin coalition model, 216 Second-class citizenship, 13,175, 177, 193, 204 Secret police, 2, 28. See also Stasi SED regime, 53, 56—57, 64, 68, 75, 80; Central Committee of, 98; general secretary of, 61; ideology of, 42; Sta- linization of, 42 Slovak Republic, 210 Social Charter of the Roundtable, 70 Socialist personality, 21, 42 Societal lag, 12-13, 153, 158, 199 Soviet Control Commission, 42 Soviet Military Administration, 31, 42 Soviet-style communist societies and regimes, 28, 127 Soviet zone of occupation, 41 Sozialdemokratische Partei (SDP), 42, 72, 98, 102, 230 Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutsch- lands (SPD), 70-72, 74—75, 78, 81-82, 88, 95, 97, 100-103, 116—18, 126, 130, 136, 147, 149, 165-67, 169, 170—72, 179-83, 186—90, 215-17, 229-30 Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutsch- lands (SED), 2, 6-8, 30, 34, 41-42, 44-51, 61-62, 65, 68, 71—73, 76, 79— 80, 94-95, 99-103, 124, 137-38, 148, 161, 171, 181, 184, 189, 230 Stasi, 29, 58, 65, 89—90, 95—99, 173; files of, 99, 138, 206, 211 State parliament: of Brandenburg, 4, 105, 108, 140, 149; of Mecklenburg- Vorpommern, 7, 97, 105; of Thiiringen, 7, 105 State parliamentarians: adjustment ex- periences of new, 2, 14, 81, 107-9, 129-36, 142-53, 204, 214; back- grounds of, 2, 14, 96, 988-101, 116, 119, 127, 195; composite portraits of, 2—8, 198; composition, 105, 116, 197; culture of, 14, 122, 124-35, 140; in the east, 2, 15, 31-32, 41, 85, 90-91, 94, 96, 98, 122, 162, 165, 197, 222; functions of, 17, 127, 155, 158-59, 166-67, 193, 195, 215; legislative as- sistants, 108, 151, 253 n.47; path to politics, 2, 80-81, 95, 97, 102-106, 116, 120, 197; and the pps, 187—90; role in democratic consolidation, 17, 159, 213, 215; training, 2, 106-9, 149, 198; in the west, 119—20; westerners in the east, 96 Stattparteien, 179 Stolpe, Manfred, 98, 138-39, 146-47, 171-73, 195, 206, 211, 253 n.46, 256 n.35 Strategy paper, 170, 189. See also Reh- berg, Eckhardt Support, 177: abstract/diffuse for de- mocracy, 22, 157; active support for system, 23—24, 176, 207; passive sup- port for system, 23; specific for de- mocracy, 157 Synthesis, 146-147, 198. See also Inte- gration: of eastern elites Szelenyi, Ivan, 49 Technical-scientific intelligentsia, 88, 201 Ten Point Plan, 82. See also Kohl, Helmut Thalmann, Ernst, 48 Thierse, Wolfgang, 110, 146, 186, 212, 218 Thiiringen, 5, 32—33, 165, 172, 188-90, 216 Timm, Gottfried, 172 Toleration of the PDS in a coalition, 171, 174, 188. See also Magdeburg coali- tion model Transfer. See Transplant Transformation: cultural, 10, 202—3 (see also Culturalization); of elites in postcommunist Germany, 33; institu- tional, 10, 18, 113, 150, 155 (see also Institutionalization) Transition: eastern experience, 9, 85, 88, 113, 205; mode of, 20, 152, 156, 160, 194, 198, 207, 221-222; postcommunist, 10 Transitional justice, 90—91, 95 Transplant: of democracy, 20, 39, 112— 13, 207, 217; ofthe FRG system, 11, 14-15, 30, 41, 83, 85, 89, 91-92, 95, ID, Wis, aA, 77, IE, Pls}, Pe opt western norms and institutions, 19, 36,114, 122,128, 143—44, 149,199, 206 Treaty on the Establishment of Mone- tary, Economic, and Social Union, 87, 92 Treuhand Anstalt, 50, 157 287 Tschiche, Hans-Jochen, 174 “Two-Plus-Four” treaty negotiations, 87 Ulbricht, Walter, 46 Ullmann, Wolfgang, 110 Ulrich S., 5-8, 14, 198, 235n.1 Unification, 22—23, 38, 77, 86, 89, 113, 140, 216, 220; costs of, 78, 162, 171; pro-unification political parties, 74; rush to, 67—71, 75 Unification Treaty, 87-88 Uniformity principle, 47 Union of Free Democrats, 74 USSR, 11-12, 18, 222; repression of re- forms in Eastern Europe, 75—77 Vaatz, Arnold, 82, 103 Vergangenheitsbewdltigung, 138 Vogel, Bernhard, 139 Volkskammer, 73, 124; dissolution of, 72, 246 n.25; members of the last, 75— 77. See also Elections: 1990 Volks- kammer Voter turnout, 13, 74, 177-79, 193 Voting patterns in the east, 169 Watesa, Lech, 200 Wandlitz, 50 Wannsee, 164 Weber, Max, 24 Wende, 62, 68 Werte Papier. See Strategy paper West German media, 3, 6, 51, 82, 101 Withdrawal of easterners from politics, 148—49 Work, 70, 163, 237 n.14; role in GDR, 45 Xenophobic violence, 156, 204 Yugoslavia, 11-12, 222 Jennifer A. Yoder is an assistant professor with the Department of Government, Colby College. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Yoder, Jennifer A. From East Germans to Germans? : the new postcommunist elites / Jennifer A. Yoder. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-8223-2351-6 (cl. : alk. paper). — ISBN 0-8223-2372-9 (pa. : alk. paper) 1. Post-communism—Germany (East) 2. Elite (Social sciences)—Germany (East) 3. Germany—History— Unification, 1990. I. Title. 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