Treuhand
organisation was set up to return previously expropriated and GDR
‘state-owned’ property to former owners or their legal heirs. This opened the
way for innumerable property disputes, and the ousting of many east Germans
from homes and land which they had inhabited and often improved by immense
personal efforts over many years. For a wide range of reasons, a relatively high
rate of migration westwards continued, as people left in search of better living
and employment conditions in western Germany, and east German population
decline continued.
Yet, despite all these immediate economic difficulties with major personal
consequences for those adversely affected, the overall result of investment and
rebuilding was the ‘sanitisation’ of much of (what survived of) east German
industry, the renovation of crumbling housing stock, the reconstruction of
transport infrastructure, the modernisation of communications and the expansion
of western consumer outlets into the east. While eastern Germany in 1990
looked like a possibly even more decrepit version of Germany in the 1930s, by
the twenty-first century many areas in the former GDR were virtually
indistinguishable in appearance from comparable regions of western Germany,
bearing in mind long-standing regional variations. Only the occasional half-
ruined or deserted building among the fresh facades of renovated city centres
betrayed the relatively recent character of the transformation; and even smaller
towns and villages had generally achieved new plaster and whitewash on the
houses, and the replacement of cobbled streets by tarmac, to effect a major
transformation in physical character. The wartime pock-marks which had
survived in the walls of many older buildings since 1945 were rapidly
disappearing under the new regime; the bleak housing estates of the socialist
new towns were acquiring bright external cladding and new amenities; the air
was cleansed of lignite dust and Trabi fumes, as western cars proliferated on the
streets.
In the unified Germany’s new capital, Berlin, the symbolic centre of gravity
shifted eastwards, with the central areas of the formerly drab communist capital
around Alexanderplatz and Unter den Linden becoming more lively, more ‘the
centre’ than west Berlin’s fading and increasingly tacky consumer parade along
the Kurfürstendamm near the Zoo Railway Station. With the extraordinary
building programme all along the previous no-man’s strip of the Berlin Wall,
even the very traces of division, the empty gash across the city, were
disappearing: disappearing under the international skylines of global
entertainment industries, brash commercialism and businesses around Potsdamer
Platz, under the new architect-designed government centre near the presidential
residence of Schloss Bellevue and the revived Reichstag, under the more modest
building projects and individual family homes on the former death strip in
outskirts and suburbs such as Griebnitzsee down the S-Bahn line towards
Potsdam. Only the odd concrete block from the Wall was left standing here or
there as a visual reminder of what once had been; in a few places, notably the
Bernauer Straße memorial site and museum but also on Berlin’s outskirts, such
as by Groß Glienicke Lake, attempts were made to convey an impression of
what had formerly been there, while at the East Side Gallery on the Spree river
parts of the Wall were repurposed for public art. For those who had not
experienced it at the time, it was increasingly hard to imagine the terror and
emotion of the former crossing-point between East and West at the
Friedrichstraße S-Bahn station, where the transformation of bleak waiting areas,
secure police cells and border guard offices into shoe-shops, mobile phone and
computer outlets, newsagents and grocery stores made the new sanitised version
look much like any modern western airport or railway station. Even the former
headquarters of the Stasi in Normannenstraße, where the offices of Stasi chief
Erich Mielke were re-opened as a museum, no longer looked quite so forbidding.
In Berlin at least the physical traces of the very recent German Democratic
Republic collapsed almost unnoticed into the changing environment, jostling for
recognition in historical consciousness alongside the traces of the Third Reich,
of Weimar Germany, of Imperial splendours and the more squalid legacies of
rapid industrialisation; alongside, too, the more lasting architectural and
sculptural heritage of the great age of Berlin in eighteenth-century Prussia. Even
for those who knew at first hand what had existed so recently, it required some
effort of mental reconstruction – or a trip to an outlying or relatively neglected
area – to re-imagine the so recently overthrown communist past.
The new appearance of the eastern areas of unified Germany nevertheless
belied continuing, if slowly fading, differences between eastern and western
Germans. These were first thematised in popular parlance by the ubiquitous
jokes about ‘
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