Stasiland_ Stories From Behind the Berlin Wall - Anna Funder [61]
‘I noticed relatively early,’ he says, ‘that we would not be able to survive economically. And when we started to get tied up in this ridiculous GDR success propaganda—exaggerated harvest results and production levels and so on—I withdrew from that altogether and confined myself to my specialist area: the work against imperialism. Exclusively. And for that reason today I am so be-lov-ed,’ he says, heavy with sarcasm.
‘What do you mean “beloved”—by whom?’ I ask.
‘That’s why I’m so beloved by all those who think imperialistically and act imperialistically and bring up their children imperialistically!’ Each time he says ‘imperialistically’ he thrusts his fist on the stick forward towards me. This man, who could turn inhumanity into humanity, faces now perhaps his greatest challenge: to turn the fact that he is hated into the fact that he is, in the face of all available evidence, right.
‘Your program was based on exposing the lies of the western media. When you noticed the false success propaganda at home, didn’t you feel a responsibility to do the same?’
‘No. I focused in my program quite deliberately and exclusively on anti-imperialism, not on GDR propaganda.’
‘But you understand my question, Herr von Schnitzler. The success propaganda in the GDR media was also lies—’
‘It did distance the people from us, because it was in such stark contrast to the reality.’ He can switch from one view to another with frightening ease. I think it is a sign of being accustomed to such power that the truth does not matter because you cannot be contradicted.
‘Why didn’t you comment then on these lies?’ ‘I wouldn’t even consider it!’ He frowns and pulls his neck in like a turtle in disgust. ‘I’m not about to criticise my own republic!’
‘Why not?’
‘The critique of imperialism is quite enough!’
‘I criticise my own country—’ I say.
He doesn’t miss a beat. ‘You’ve a lot more reason to.’
There’s nothing for it but to laugh. ‘That may be,’ I say.
We switch to the present. He starts to talk about ‘my very good friend Erich Mielke’.
‘Did he have a file on you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You haven’t applied to have a look at it?’
‘Why should I?’
‘Out of curiosity.’
‘My curiosity is directed solely towards the machinations of imperialism and how they can be countered.’
Checkmate. So I start another question. ‘The internal observation of the GDR population, with the apparatus of official and unofficial collaborators—’
He cuts me off. ‘You can throw 90 per cent of what you know about that out.’ He’s angry again. ‘It’s all lies. Mind you, in my opinion even 10 per cent of what they’re saying would have been too much.’
‘Are you saying that there was only 10 per cent of the number claimed of Stasi employees assigned to work on the East German population?’
‘Yes. It’s all been exaggerated immeasurably. In any case I am exceptionally sceptical about numbers.’
He changes tack, back to his friend Mielke. ‘The Wall was necessary to defend a threatened nation. And there was Erich Mielke at the top, a living example of the most humane human being.’
I have never heard Mielke referred to in this way. He was too fierce and feared to be referred to with anything like affection. I look away to the shelves on the wall close behind him. They are full of books and small objects of memory, a row of pill bottles and a cheap tape deck. The words ‘the most humane human being’ hang in the air. He starts to cough, hacking and deep, into a handkerchief, then raises the pink drink to his lips.
‘And how are you finding it now after 1989, now that you are living in capitalism or, as you say, in imperialism? Is it what you expected,’ I hold his gaze, ‘or is it not as bad as you thought?’
‘I live,’ he says fiercely, ‘among the enemy. And not for the first time in my