Fear And Betrayal

By JAMES O. JACKSON BONN

In April 1988 a tiny organization called the Initiative for Peace and Human Rights gathered in the East Berlin apartment of Gerd and Ulrike Poppe to draft a letter protesting the deportation of two of the group's members. The 15 people at the meeting had been close friends for years. Most were involved in Lutheran church activities; two were pastors. And at least four of the 15 were also paid informers of the East German Ministry for State Security, the Stasi.

The Poppes, who were denied educational opportunities and adequate housing during the Stasi's reign, have now been allowed to see the reports prepared by those former friends, and to learn the depth of their betrayal. The documents, which also revealed Stasi attempts to break up the Poppes' marriage, are part of the secret archives opened Jan. 1 for inspection by the 6 million eastern Germans -- one-third of the population -- on whom dossiers were compiled. More than 300,000 have applied to read their files.

Many are appalled at what they find: treachery by friends, parents, brothers, sisters, spouses -- some 200,000 "unofficial co-workers" in all. The custodian of the files, Joachim Gauck, warns former citizens of the east to "think twice before applying -- the shock could cause family catastrophes. One should look deeply inside oneself before making this decision."

What file readers discover is just how pervasive the network of betrayal was. Stasi tentacles extended into the schoolroom, the pulpit, the bedroom, even the confessional: Roman Catholic authorities are investigating indications that penitents' confessions reached the Stasi through hidden microphones or corrupted priests. Stasi technicians bugged homes, telephones, cars and seats in concert halls. The Stasi's "Section 8" dealt with children, requiring principals of every school in the country to keep a file of "dangerous persons" in their classrooms. Teachers filled out forms on "conspicuous" children, some as young as 9, who expressed views critical of the state or favorable to the West. The information went into the archives, and years later was used to block youngsters from jobs or higher education. The teachers dared not refuse to report. "We had 30 pairs of eyes focused on us," said one. "We had to be careful."

Some who have seen their files are astounded less by the contents than by the sheer volume of a record so large that even the 90,000-member Stasi force could not handle it. "They were drowning in their own paper," said Werner Fischer, a former dissident who supervised the archives in early 1990 during the dismantlement of the hated ministry. In the Stasi's beige concrete former headquarters on East Berlin's Normannenstrasse, files lie in folders, binders, boxes and brown paper bags, stacked in five floors of rotating shelves a total of 125 miles long. Some papers are baled and tied with twine, some are scattered loose, some are stuffed unsorted into canvas bags. "We found letters we never received," said Gerd Poppe. "There were pictures taken through our window, transcripts of taped telephone calls. There was such a mass of information that it simply could not be evaluated."

As huge as it was, the surveillance operation was a failure in the end. It never fully gauged the true depth of disaffection for the regime or predicted its collapse. By trying to know everything, the Stasi apparatus knew nothing. Barbel Bohley, an artist and organizer of the New Forum movement that led the popular rebellion against the communist regime in 1989, found the information in her dossier ludicrous. "I have never read so much boring nonsense," she said after viewing 25 folders, less than half her file. "If that was my life, then for heaven's sake what did they make of it?"

Ultimately, those who helped create the archives may feel the most devastating effects. Revelations of collaboration have already ruined dozens of individuals, including most of the political figures who rose to prominence as the old regime sought to reform. Among them were Ibrahim Bohme, a founder of the eastern Social Democratic Party; Lothar de Maiziere, the first democratically elected East German Prime Minister; and Wolfgang Schnur, founding leader of Democratic Awakening, a once burgeoning political party that collapsed after Schnur's exposure as an informant. Gregor Gysi, head of the Party of Democratic Socialism, which succeeded the old Communist Party, is under suspicion.

Even Manfred Stolpe, the premier of Brandenburg and the east's most respected political figure, has been accused of having Stasi contacts when he worked as a church leader and civil rights advocate before the Wall fell. Stolpe readily concedes that he met with secret police officers. But, he says, the ministry was ubiquitous, and any attempt to reform the system or protect its victims involved negotiations with it. "I tried to use the opportunities I had to win more freedom at a time when I could not know that the Soviet empire would set us free," he said. "I would have met with the devil if it would have helped us."

Stolpe is likely to survive the charges, but others may not. One of the informers at the meeting in the Poppes' apartment attempted suicide when his betrayal was exposed. "That is too bad," said Ulrike Poppe. "But this is a catharsis. It is necessary for us to go through it."

With reporting by Daniel Benjamin and Clive Freeman/Berlin