Why did East Germany remain one of the most rigidly Stalinist states in Europe, well into the 1980s when glasnost was blossoming elsewhere in the Eastern Bloc?
Immediately after World War II, most Soviet satellites saw the establishment of one-party dictatorships with native Communist leaders hand-picked by Moscow. But East Germany remained a Soviet military "occupied territory" until 1955. And even after that date continued under de facto Soviet military rule by virtue of the large Cold War presence of Warsaw Pact troops and tanks.
In nearly every respect, the German Democratic Republic resembled an armed camp.
As essential as an outward show of force is to the maintenance of absolute rule, still more important is an internal system of undercover snoops, eavesdroppers and thugs. In its pursuit of dissidents, non-conformists and would-be escapees, the Stasi (for Ministerium für Staatssicherheit) earned a reputation as one of the most effective agencies behind the Iron Curtain.
Of course, like Sputnik, anything can be bought for a price. To maintain its stranglehold on the "Land of Real Existing Socialism," the Stasi required 91,000 full-time employees and 300,000 informants. This in a nation of only 16 million.
One of the cogs in the Stasi's formidable machine of surveillance and control is the subject of The Lives of Others, last week's Oscar winner for Best Foreign Language Film.
In the symbolically weighted year of 1984, we first encounter Capt. Gerd Wiesler (played by the amazing Ulrich Mühe), as he conducts a class in how to question a suspect, a sort of Interrogation 101. His students listen as he plays a recording of his "interview" with a man under suspicion of knowing who helped a fellow citizen escape to the West. Over and over Prisoner 227 is quizzed, "Tell me again what you did September 28."
As they listen to the tape, Wiesler explains that an innocent person will express a sense of injustice and grow progressively angrier at his accusers, whereas a guilty person will maintain his calm. The recorded interview proceeds, and Wiesler's prisoner does keep his cool – until, after many sleep-deprived hours in the hot seat, he finally breaks down and admits his crime against the state.
Whether Capt. Wiesler's theory is valid or not is unimportant here. The vital point is that this Stasi officer is a true believer in the theory. More than that, he is a true believer in the ideology he serves.
"Your subjects," he lectures his class of torturers-in-training, "are enemies of socialism. Never forget that!"
And his commitment to the cause extends beyond the classroom. Lunching in the Stasi canteen, Wiesler is invited by superior officer Lieutenant Colonel Anton Grubitz to dine at a table reserved for top brass. Wiesler declines. "Socialism," he says, placing his food tray on a table occupied by the rank and file, "must start somewhere."
This functionary harbors no doubts about the need for a secret police and his role in it: "We are the Party's shield and sword."
On the basis of Wiesler's loyalty and efficiency, Lt. Col. Grubitz hands him a delicate assignment: he is to dig up dirt on the respected East German playwright, Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch). "There's something fishy about him," Grubitz says. "I can feel it in my gut. If you can get something on him, you'll have a good friend on the Central Committee." Which can only mean career advancement and perquisites, such as they are in East Germany.
Yet from the standpoint of maintaining one-party rule, there is nothing at all fishy about Comrade Dreyman. Yes, his magazine-model good looks and talents as a dramatist draw fans west of the Wall, but in his homeland he serves as a shining example of the New Socialist Man. He writes good Marxist dramas, pays proper homage to the leadership, and discourages his dissident-leaning fellow artists from acts that would result in unwanted scrutiny. At one point he expresses approval of a ban on another writer's foreign travel.
Dreyman also enjoys the intimate companionship of his leading actress, Christa-Maria Sieland (a lovely-haunted Martina Gedeck).
Set to the task of destroying Dreyman, Wiesler invades the writer's apartment while he's away, has his men plant microphones and cameras everywhere, and threatens Dreyman's neighbor: "One word of this and Masha loses her spot at university." Wiesler's single-minded dedication is further demonstrated by his willingness to sit 12 hours at a time in a cold attic to hear every word spoken, every move made in the rooms below.
But Wiesler finds nothing damaging. Soon he begins to understand that his assignment is not to ensnare an enemy of the state but to help a rival for Christa's affections. The Minister of State Security, Bruno Hempf, lusts after the actress, forces himself on her at every opportunity, and wants her boyfriend out of the way.
Gradually we see Wiesler's loyalty eroding. While Dreyman and Christa are at rehearsals, Wiesler enters their apartment again, this time not as a spy but as an admirer. He examines the salad fork Christa had given Dreyman on their anniversary. He kneels almost reverently at the foot of the bed where the lovers sleep. He borrows Dreyman's volume of Brecht's poetry and reads it with delight. Later, back in the attic, Wiesler listens as Dreyman plays a piano sonata and weeps as if he is hearing music for the first time.
Unaware of the spy above him, Dreyman asks Christa, "Can anyone who has really heard this music be bad?"
And so the hunter becomes protector. Wiesler, the erstwhile servant of the state, uses the "Party's shield and sword" to save Christa's honor and Dreyman's life.
And all this happens as pressure from above increases. Frustrated by the absence of anything to incriminate Dreyman, Minister Hempf demands that the Stasi "find something. I'd advise even my worst enemy not to disappoint me."
To complicate matters even further, the suicide death of Albert Jerska, a writer whom the Party had blacklisted for his dissidence, leads Dreyman to compose an angry article for publication in West Germany. Now in his guardian angel role, Wiesler is not simply failing to perform a frame-up; he is actively concealing Dreyman's crimes against the state.
The remainder of the movie, which I will not reveal to you, plays out in the best tradition of spy thrillers. It is a race between Wiesler and those to whom the lives of others mean nothing.
So who poses the greater threat to freedom? Officials like Hempf, who use socialism to mask their lust for power over others, or true believers like the early Wiesler who would happily give his life for the cause? To my mind, the fanatic is always more terrifying than the self-server.
Is it realistic to expect a mid-life change of heart in so dedicated a Stasi agent? The answer depends on whether one's view of human nature is closer to Anne Frank's or Thomas Hobbes's.
But on one point we can be certain: a police state, no matter what admirable goals it purports to serve, is a threat to life and liberty. Operating undercover, "disappearing" suspects, destroying reputations and careers, and exempt from appeal or review, the secret police must inevitably turn from destroying the nation's enemies to destroying opponents of the police state itself. As Robert Vansittart put it, "The tragedy of the police state is that it always regards all opposition as a crime, and there are no degrees."
The Oscar awarded to The Lives of Others is well deserved and will bring it an audience that few sub-titled films enjoy in the United States. Pity that most of those who watch it will see the abuses depicted therein as peculiar to Communism and insist with patriotic fervor that "It Can't Happen Here."
March 7, 2007
