German-German history
An Ossi in a perfectly reunified country
Author Valerie Schönian, who was born in the German state of Saxony-Anhalt in 1990 – just a few days before reunification – is only familiar with walls dividing the country from films. Nevertheless, she consciously identifies as east German and, in her writing, explores how different perspectives in east and west Germany can be seen as an asset.
By Valerie Schönian
A few weeks ago, I realised that the question has shifted. It used to be: Do we really still have to discuss all this? Now it’s: Isn’t enough finally enough? These questions refer to all the talk about east Germany. Whenever I read something like that, I want to reply: No, it’s not enough. In fact, you could argue that we’ve only just started the discussion. I think that the very fact that we're discussing it so openly shows just how much progress we’ve made.
I was born in the autumn of 1990 in Gardelegen, Saxony-Anhalt, which, for just a few days, still belonged to the German Democratic Republic. I grew up in Magdeburg. This means I’m more or less the same age as reunified Germany. I only ever knew anything about walls dividing my country through films. For years, I rarely gave any thought to the fact that I come from east Germany or have an east German identity. The Germany I grew up in was simply a country consisting of 16 federal states. For me, ”east“ and ”west“ were merely compass directions. East German history was as distant as the Roman Empire – a thing of the past.
Ossi transformation
But this changed when I moved to Munich. It was 2014, the year Pegida started organising marches in Dresden. I joined a counter-demonstration in Munich, but I sensed a distinct difference between myself and the people around me. To me, the demonstrators in Dresden were primarily angry people. But the others in the crowd, it seemed, saw them first and foremost as east Germans. Old clichés – whose very existence I thought was a cliché – were being dredged back up again. A friend even admitted that Pegida’s rise had prompted her to revert to sinister clichés about those ”damned Ossis, always complaining, still feeling marginalised and neglected”.That marked the start of what I later referred to as my ”Ossi transformation“. At first, it was a subconscious process fuelled mainly by a sense of defiance. I found myself slipping songs by east German bands, like Kling Klang by Keimzeit, onto house party playlists, and reaching for Rotkäppchen from the shelves of sparkling wines. The whole thing became more deliberate when I moved back to Berlin, where I had previously studied, and began engaging more deeply with east Germany. And the more I delved into its history and outlook and the east German experience, the more I realised how little they mattered in the broader national narrative – and the more I wanted to understand it all.
The rise of right-wing populism
But alongside my own desire for insight, another development was unfolding: the rise of right-wing populism in eastern Germany. In 2016, in my home state of Saxony-Anhalt, the AfD emerged as the second-strongest party for the first time. This has since become a regular pattern, back then it was unprecedented.After the election, I felt many things all at once. Of course, I was shocked by the election result itself. But I was also stunned by how Germany suddenly seemed to view my home state, lumping everyone there into the same category. ”Shame on you, Saxony-Anhalt“ and ”Forget the lot of them“ were the kind of comments people I’d met over the years in Hamburg, Berlin and Munich posted on my Facebook timeline.
A few days after the election, I had a conversation with a west German man, probably about 30 years older than me, about the election results. I tried to explain to him what I’d only just begun to understand myself: the false pledges, the anger, the frustration, the many things that have gone wrong in the decades since reunification. This man said that trying to link all of that to the election results was nothing more than ”Ossi complaining“. If I had to pinpoint a single moment that made me become an Ossi, it would be that one. This was when I realised that he and I had completely different perspectives. We had totally different views of the GDR era and post-reunification years. Not because one of us is dumb, ignorant or completely wrong, but because he’s a Wessi and I’m an Ossi. Ever since that moment, I’ve consciously embraced my identity as an easterner and ever since then I have wanted to be one, too. I’ve come to claim the term ”Ossi“ as my own. I want it to have positive connotations because it is something positive for me.
But it’s not just about linking the whole topic to the GDR and the years after reunification. Of course, that’s part of why east Germany is the way it is, but these periods are both now history. “The east” today is so much more than that; it didn’t simply cease to exist with the fall of the GDR. This is why it is still connected to me, even though I was only born in 1990.
I grew up with different normalities than my peers from west Germany (having a working mother), with different structures (no inheritance), in a different environment and with different associations (for me, the sight of prefab concrete apartment blocks on the horizon evoke a sense of home and feelings of comfort). And naturally, I have a different relationship to east German history – because it’s my history, too. I feel a sense of solidarity with the east German experience, if you will, because everything that came from it shaped the environment in which I grew up – with all its challenges (so many people leaving) and all its strengths (so much free space). All of this shapes how I – how we, the post-reunification east German children – view life, politics and society. That’s why our perspective, the east German perspective, deserves a place in the narrative of German society.