Читаем Berlin полностью

In fact, thousands of East Germans responded to the Krenz appointment by decamping to the West. On November 1, the day his government reopened the East German border with Czechoslovakia as a goodwill gesture, 23,000 people flooded out. Under pressure from the Czech government, the GDR embassy in Prague granted the refugees visas to travel on to the Federal Republic, which they promptly did. Word of this naturally got out, and within hours there was bumper-to-bumper Trabi traffic across Czechoslovakia to the Bavarian border. Irritated over this situation, Prague demanded that the GDR open its own borders with the FRG to free and unfettered travel. Unwilling to go this far, the Krenz government drafted new travel and visa regulations on November 6 that would allow citizens to leave the country for a month after getting approval by the state.

Smacking of desperation and bureaucratic foot-dragging, this measure was soundly rejected by the East German parliament, which, like the press, was suddenly determined to show its independence. In the wake of this unprecedented act of defiance, all the members of the Council of Ministers submitted their resignations, as did those of the Politbüro. During a chaotic meeting of the Central Committee on November 7, Krenz managed to retain his post as party boss, but Hans Modrow, one of Krenz’s rivals, was named to the reconstituted Politbüro to keep an eye on him. Part of Modrow’s attraction was that he was not part of the Berlin establishment. As head of the SED in Dresden, he had often stood up for that city against demands from East Berlin. For example, he had refused to send money and materials to the capital for its lavish 750th anniversary celebration. His stance won him the admiration of all the provincial politicians who secretly bristled at having to take their marching orders from the capital.

Reshuffling the government did nothing to stop the mass exodus, and on the morning of November 9 the regime came up with yet another set of travel regulations, which, by allowing folks to leave the country temporarily, was supposed to keep them from leaving for good. The new draft regulations stated that GDR citizens with valid passports could exit the country across any border, including that in Berlin. This concession was not quite as daring as it looked, however, because only about 4 million GDR citizens held passports, and it would probably take months for those who did not have passports to secure them. Nonetheless, the inclusion of Berlin among the borders to be opened was a momentous step. It would reduce the Berlin Wall from the world’s most famous political barrier to little more than a speed bump on the route from East to West.

That evening Günter Schabowski held a press conference to discuss the government’s program. The conference was televised live by GDR television, which in itself was unprecedented. Schabowski was a little unsure on the details of the new travel law because he had not been present at the meeting during which the plan was drafted. In the event, he said nothing about the impending changes until the session was almost over. Then, in response to a question from an Italian journalist about previous “failures” in government travel regulations, he announced, as if he were discussing some minor bureaucratic adjustment, that henceforth it would be possible for every citizen of the GDR to exit and reenter the country over any of its border crossings. When asked when this would take effect, he said “ab sofort” (immediately).” Did this new arrangement include East Berlin’s border with West Berlin? he was asked. Looking at his notes, Schabowski replied: “Exits can occur at all GDR/BRD border crossings, including Berlin-West.”

The Krenz regime had not intended for the new law to take effect immediately, but once Schabowski had announced this version of the regulations live to the world there was no way to reattach the original restrictions. In any case, it was extremely fitting that the new order was allowed to take effect on November 9, since it was on this date, seventy-one years before, that Philipp Scheidemann had peremptorily announced the kaiser’s abdication from a window in the Reichstag. He had done so in order to prevent an even more radical alternative, namely the Communist-oriented republic envisaged by the Spartacists around Karl Liebknecht. Scheidemann and his SPD colleagues had proven incapable of controlling the torrent of events that soon swept over the fledgling Weimar Republic. The same fate would befall Schabowski and the new GDR rulers as they struggled desperately to keep their state afloat.