In the early morning of Aug.
21, 1968, when East German radio
announced that "personalities of the party and the state of the
Czechoslovak Socialist Republic (CSSR)" had called on the Soviet
Union and other allied states to grant them "help, including help
from armed forces," Hartmut Zwahr wasn't the only one choking on
his breakfast.
Bildunterschrift:
Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift:
Thousands still demonstrated peacefully in Prague's main square on
Aug. 20, 1968
"My wife came into the kitchen and said: 'They've invaded,'" Zwahr
said. "One had always feared that this was going to happen."
At the time, Zwahr was a 32-year-old historian with high hopes at
Leipzig's Karl Marx University. He was fascinated by the attempts
to renew socialism in the neighboring country. He's a member of
Germany's Sorb minority, speaks Czech and regularly traveled to the
CSSR, where he read local papers, which at the time were often sold
out in Leipzig.
Sobering experience
Bildunterschrift:
Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift:
Alexander Dubcek gave hope to East Germans as well
During the summer of 1968, East Germans were clearly on the side of
the CSSR's reformist leader, Alexander Dubcek. The invasion is a
rude awakening after dreaming of socialism with a human face.
"It was sobering, it was a knockdown," Zwahr said, adding that
Dubcek's democratization efforts had already led to the release of
political prisoners.
"I began fearing the secret police," he said. "I stopped making
friends in my field."
Zwahr said he led a double life during the months of the Prague
Spring. At university, he functioned as it was expected of him as a
good comrade.
But at night, he filled his diary with entries about party
meetings, where die-hard communists led the way and Dubcek
supporters kept quiet out of fear. He wrote about his internal
conflicts, his heretic thoughts, political jokes and the
frustrations of everyday life. Only decades later, he published his
diary under the tile "The Swallow's Frozen Wings."
Typewritten protest
Bildunterschrift:
Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift:
Becker's protest brought her to prison
Hildegart Becker, a 17-year-old student in the East German town of
Frankfurt (Oder) near the Polish border, also felt compelled to
write during those days in August 1968.
Together with a friend and her sister, she used the typewriter of
her father, a Protestant pastor, to compose a protest flyer against
the invasion. She sent them to residents in her city after getting
their addresses from the phone book. When she got to the letter K,
agents from the Stasi, the former East German secret police, were
already at her door.
"We'd sent out about 150 letters, but very few actually reached
their recipients," Becker said, adding that she found out later in
her Stasi files that many people turned the letters in to the
authorities.
In a strictly controlled republic, actions like Becker's
represented a wave a protest.
Between Aug. 21 and the end of November 1968, 1,290 people in East
Germany were investigated for painting graffiti, distributing
pamphlets or even just publicly criticizing the invasion,
according to Stasi files. Those arrested included young
workers, students, pupils, some of them the children of famous
party and state functionaries.
Life-long memories
Becker ended up in prison for her actions. From her cell, she was
able to hear the bells of her father's church. While she wasn't a
member of East Germany's communist youth organizations, she still
didn't see herself as an enemy of socialism.
"It had a certain attraction," she said. "That's why I thought: It
can't be that they move in with tanks in socialism."
Bildunterschrift:
Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift:
East Germans followed their Czech neighbors in 1989
After three months in jail, Becker was released just in time to
celebrate Christmas with her family. She was allowed to finish
school and study civil engineering and theology. She became active
in East Germany's democratization movement of 1989.
Hartmut Zwahr, on the other hand, became a respected social
historian, who taught in Leipzig until 2001. His diary isn't the
only thing that reminds him of the Prague Spring: His son's name is
Alexander, just like 1968 socialist Alexander Dubcek.
(Deutsche Welle)
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