Finding the Stasi: Rules of Thumb and Knowing whom to Suspect
The accounts of the role of intuitive knowledge or rules of thumb in resisting recruitment show how the experience of direct contact with the Stasi—either personal experience or within familial or professional networks—helped individuals identify Stasi officers. However, for many individuals, the greater threat to the cohesion of the network and their professional and personal well-being was the potential presence of informants. Informants were described by the Stasi itself as the greatest weapon in combatting subversive activity: they were, in Lewis’s terms, a “central piece in the Stasi armory.”
1Lewis, A State of Secrecy, xiv. While Stasi officers posed a threat to the literary scene from a position outside it,
Inoffizielle Mitarbeiter were often recruited from within the scene or as individuals able to infiltrate it. This created an environment of uncertainty in terms of whom one could trust and with what knowledge: in this sense it was part of the “public secret” of the Stasi. Individuals knew that there were informants and that those informants represented a threat, but they could not (usually) know who those informants were. The function of trust in the creation and dissemination of knowledge will be discussed more fully in chapter 2. Here, we want to explore how our interviews recall using intuitive—heuristic—knowledge to navigate this “known unknown.”
What we see in the interview is, once again, the development of rules of thumb—based on personal experience or experiences of others in the network—that were used to inform decisions on who could and could not be trusted. For example, Moog remembers that the apparent receipt of privileges was viewed as particularly suspicious: for example, if a friend or acquaintance suddenly started driving a Wartburg or Skoda—cars that the average person had to wait decades to purchase—they were instantly suspected of working for the Stasi: “Dann konnte das leicht sein, dass derjenige dann, dass der Verdacht aufkam, der ist bestimmt bei der Stasi” (then it could easily be that the person was suspected of being in the Stasi).
2Interview with Christa Moog, August 25, 2021. Or if a painter was suddenly able to show their works, despite the highly controlled public sphere, Moog admits to thinking: ‘“Ach, der kann ausstellen, da seine Sachen. Bestimmt ist der mit der Stasi”’ (“oh so, he can exhibit his material. He must be with the Stasi”).
3Interview with Christa Moog, August 25, 2021. These rules of thumb were built from the knowledge gained from direct contact with the Stasi (as in the attempted recruitment described by Moog) and through knowledge dissemination within literary networks. In both cases, the knowledge was partial, unreliable, and frequently wrong: as Moog notes, “das traf dann sicher auch manchmal Leute, so ganz zu Unrecht traf die das” (certainly sometimes people were targeted, so completely unjustifiably targeted).
4Interview with Christa Moog, August 25, 2021.Bettina Wegner similarly indicates the importance of gut feelings and rules of thumb for acquiring and circulating (partial) knowledge of the Stasi. In retrospect, in the interview with Windsor, Wegner claims to have known a great deal about the Stasi’s operations, but recognises at the same time the flawed nature of that knowledge:
Wir wussten eigentlich ganz gut Bescheid über alles. Wir haben in manchen Dingen manches überschätzt und manches unterschätzt. Dass, zum Beispiel, die [Stasi] für den Tag X ’n Lager im Kopf hatten, und schon [im Kopf hatten], also, welche Leute dann, am Tag X in ein Lager kommen, dit hätten wir ihnen nich’ zugetraut. Aber ansonsten haben wir gedacht, dass es viel mehr IMs gibt, also Zuarbeiter, als es tatsächlich waren.
5Interview with Bettina Wegner, August 23, 2021.[We actually knew about everything. We overestimated some things and underestimated others. That, for example, they [the Stasi] had a camp in mind for Day X [i.e., in the event of an uprising], and already [had in mind], that is, which people would go into a camp on Day X, we would not have thought them capable of that. But apart from that, we thought that there were far more IMs, that is operatives, than there actually were.]
Wegner thus asserts that while those operating in the unofficial literary sphere may have underestimated the full extent of the Stasi’s operations and the danger that the organisation posed to individuals, they suspected more people of being informants than was actually the case. In this context, Paul Betts cites Jurek Becker as noting that “one of the Stasi’s greatest strengths lay in the fact that one often presumed its representatives to be present when in reality this wasn’t the case.”
6Betts, Within Walls, 38.Indeed, Maaß points towards both the regularity with which these rules of thumb were applied and the potential threat they posed. He states that they tried not to be suspicious of one another, but that:
… es kam mehr als einmal vor, dass jemand zu mir kam und sagte, “Du, Ekke, der ist bei der Stasi, den laden wir nicht mehr ein.” Und dann sagte ich, “Hey, woher weißt Du das? Hat er’s Dir gesagt?”—“Nee.”—“Na, dann kannst Du’s doch nicht wissen. Warum verbreitest Du hier solche Gerüchte? Das ist doch gerade die Methode der Stasi, dass sie uns auseinanderbringen wollen.”
7Interview with Ekkehard Maaß, July 30, 2021.[… it happened more than once that someone came to me and said, “Hey, Ekke, he’s with the Stasi, we’re not inviting him anymore.” And then I said, “Hey, how do you know that? Did he tell you?”—“Nope.”—“Well, then you can’t know. Why are you spreading such rumours here? That’s exactly the intention of the Stasi, that they want to tear us apart.”]
What we see here is not a denial of the existence of informants in the literary sphere, or even that a particular individual might have been an informant; rather, Maaß recognises the partial and unreliable nature of what was asserted by the interlocutor as “knowledge.” Maaß identifies that fragmented, heuristic, intuitive knowledge as a threat, where others are attempting to use it as an asset to determine who might be trusted. In an open letter to Anderson, published in the
Berliner Zeitung in 2002 and republished in the 2017 collection
Sprachzeiten (Speaking Times),
Maaß states: “Wir verboten uns Stasiverdächtigungen, weil es eine Methode der Stasi war, Gerüchte auszustreuen” (we forbade ourselves from making Stasi allegations because it was a Stasi method of spreading rumours).
8Maaß, “Ein Betroffener über die Stasi-Mitarbeit von Sasha Anderson,” 141. We might ask to what extent post-Wende knowledge of the Stasi’s methods are mixed with personal memory here; however, this statement suggests that the decision to “forbid” intuitive knowledge was also founded on knowledge about those methods. A Stasi report by IM “David Menzer” (Sascha Anderson), also republished in
Sprachzeiten, adds a further dimension. In it, “David Menzer” indicates that Maaß saw the purpose of the literary events organised in his home as being, “jungen Schreibenden die Möglichkeit zu geben, vor einem größeren Publikum zu lesen und außerdem ihnen die Möglichkeit einzuräumen, sich untereinander kennenzulernen” (to give young writers the opportunity to read in front of a larger audience and also to give them the chance to get to know each other).
9“Bericht des IM ‘David Menzer,’” in Böthig, Sprachzeiten, 96. Both motives are about the acquisition of knowledge: disseminating knowledge of new literary texts and creating interpersonal knowledge between those present. Maaß’s post-Wende accounts suggest that he recognised that the mistrust and suspicion that heuristic or intuitive knowledge might foment risked being disruptive to the creation of community and networks that were in themselves necessary for protective knowledge to circulate.
But what were the “rules of thumb,” or heuristics used by individuals in the literary scene to determine who might be working with the Stasi? The following passage in the interview with Wegner can provide some initial insights in this regard. Wegner was asked by a young man after a concert in a church whether she thought that the Stasi had been present:
Und da hab’ ick gesagt “Naja klar, geh ich mal von aus, ick bin davon überzeugt. Man sagt doch, jeder Vierte ist dabei.” [Und ich] nehm’ den Finger und zeige “Ein, zwei, drei, vier,” und bleibe auf einem jungen Mädchen mit dem Finger, und sag’ zu ihr “Na, dann bist Du’s.” Und tatsächlich [
laughs], ick finde ’nen Bericht: “Sie hat mich dekonspiriert. Ich kann nicht mehr weiter machen.” [
laughs]
10Interview with Bettina Wegner, August 23, 2021.[And then I said “Well, of course, I’m convinced of it. They say one in four is in the firm.” [And I] take my finger and point “One, two, three, four” and I land on a young girl with my finger and say to her, “Well, then it’s you.” And sure enough [laughs], I find a report: “She’s outed me. I can’t carry on.” [laughs]]
Although Wegner clearly views this episode as a humorous coincidence, her recounting of it reveals the intersection of community-based knowledge and rules of thumb. The knowledge circulating in her network is that one in four people are in the Stasi—an overestimation as Wegner admits later in the interview. She applies this rule of thumb in her assumption that there were therefore informants at the concert and the files later confirm the accuracy of this assumption. The unexpected part is that the heuristic on this occasion also allowed her to identify exactly who one of those informants was—something that Wegner herself did not expect and did not know before the opening of the files.
Wegner appears to recall this incident as something playful and as an example of the artist asserting agency by refusing to be intimidated by knowledge of the presence of the Stasi and potential threat that they posed. However, it is also clear from the anecdote that the presence of informants was a topic of discussion within the network and that the act of informing was viewed as morally reprehensible. Gigerenzer and Gassmeier note that “an example of a moral heuristic is an intuitive search rule that looks for information that could reveal whether one has been cheated in a social contract.”
11Gigerenzer and Gassmeier, “Heuristic Decision Making,” 473. Rules of thumb relating to who might be an informant could be understood as just such a form of “moral heuristic.” In the interview, in a similar way to Maaß, Wegner states that she tried not to suspect people of being informants without evidence, but that “dann kam irgend’n Verdacht auf, weil einer so sich verhalten hat” (then you started to become suspicious, because someone behaved in a particular way).
12Interview with Bettina Wegner, August 23, 2021. For Moog, we have seen that such indicators included having a new car, or being allowed to exhibit your artwork. When asked by Windsor what kinds of behaviours would arouse suspicion for her, Wegner elaborates: not taking part in conversations on particular topics, not being present when arrests or interrogations took place, or simply being quieter than others. Like Moog, Wegner notes that these forms of knowledge were uncertain and unreliable, but also that the network relied on these kinds of gut feelings to operate in an environment where other forms of knowledge were not available: “Also, wenn einer ’n Verdacht hatte—manchmal stimmte es ja leider auch—dann hat er auch den anderen dit gesagt” (so, if one of us had a suspicion—sometimes it was true, unfortunately—then he told the others as well).
13Interview with Bettina Wegner, August 23, 2021. Indeed, reluctance to share experiences of the Stasi with others in the network—for example, following a search of one’s home or arrest—was another heuristic that others might use to determine if one was an informant: “Also, man hat sich untereinander immer allet erzählt. Und wer nicht so viel erzählte, der hätte schon unter Verdacht fallen können” (well, we always told each other everything. And anyone who didn’t share so much could be viewed as suspicious).
14Interview with Bettina Wegner, August 23, 2021.In contrast to Gigerenzer’s adaptive heuristics, the rules of thumb applied to determine who might be an informant were highly unreliable: like Moog, Wegner notes that innocent people were suspects, and some of the guilty were not suspected at all. Nonetheless, these heuristics appear to have been drawn from knowledge (or at least belief) within the network about how the Stasi operated (they are in churches, they infiltrate friendship groups) and to have played a role in allowing that network to persist in a context of high uncertainty. Wegner’s recollections suggest that such rules of thumb worked to provide the sense that the secrecy of the Stasi was penetrable, that the unknown—who was an informant—could be partially known. It is not clear if the reliability of the knowledge created through these heuristics was greater than would be provided by the game of chance in Wegner’s story of the informant in the church concert. However, according to Wegner’s account, it provided people with a way of navigating the unknowability of this aspect of their environment. Wegner states that she tried not to allow these gut feelings to affect her behaviour, but others adapted their actions, paying attention to what they said and to whom. In her interview with Windsor, Gabriele Stötzer states that one of the “Gesetze” (laws or rules) followed in the underground arts scene was that you could only meet in private apartments or in the church.
15Interview with Gabriele Stötzer, June 14, 2021. The concept of “Gesetze” speaks directly to the idea of a heuristic built not on detailed knowledge of who might be an informant, or the extent to which the Stasi might already know about an event, or even be interested in it, but on a generalised understanding of how the Stasi operated constructed on the basis of the experiences of those in the network or scene.
The rules of thumb about who was an informant may therefore have helped individuals navigate uncertainty, even if unreliably so. However, Wegner’s account also shows us that the Stasi were able to take advantage of this unstable knowledge to foment distrust. In the interview, Wegner recalls that for a period of time her then-husband, Klaus Schlesinger, was permitted to travel while she (and many other critical intellectuals) was not. She notes that this aroused suspicions that Schlesinger was working for the Stasi:
Und Klaus durfte dann nach Amerika fahren. Also, die haben abgefahren, die Schiene, er darf alles, kriegt reisen, er darf reisen. Woraus dann auch ein Gerücht kam, er könnte vielleicht dabei sein, also IM sein, was ihn sehr verletzt hat.
16Interview with Bettina Wegner, August 23, 2021.[And Klaus was then allowed to travel to America. So, they went off track, he was allowed to do everything, he got to travel, he was allowed to travel. And then there was a rumour that he might be involved, that he might be an IM, which really hurt him.]
Later in the interview, Wegner states that this was a deliberate attempt by the Stasi to generate distrust of Schlesinger within the network. We know from other accounts that starting rumours that one or more members of a group were Stasi informants was a common method of “Zersetzung,” that is, the process of trying to undermine the group from within.
17Betts, Within Walls, 40–41. See also Gallinat, “Power and Vulnerability.” It was also one of the specific operative measures set out by the Stasi for OV “Schreiberling.”
18“Plan for the long-term political-operative ‘Zersetzung’ of OV ‘Schreiberling.’” Wegner’s account shows how the Stasi could get a similar result by reflecting the heuristics that the network used to identify informants without actually starting the rumour themselves. In an environment of uncertainty, if the rule of thumb states “someone allowed to travel despite critical activity may be an informant,” then granting someone permission to travel even when they are not an informant is likely to foster mistrust for that person.
This manipulation points towards a further kind of gut feeling related to the operations of the Stasi and the infiltration of the secret police in their professional and personal lives. Wegner discusses the
Eintopf (Stewpot) evenings in the Haus der jungen Talente (House of Young Talent), at which participants were invited to read their poetry. Wegner notes that it became increasingly difficult to organise these evenings and that they were put under pressure to vet the poetry before it was read (something she refused to do). The pressure came from the management of the Haus, but, Wegner notes: “Wer dann dahinter stand, wusste man. Dit mein ick, jeder wusste, es is’ die Stasi” (we knew who was behind it. I mean, everyone knew it was the Stasi).
19Interview with Bettina Wegner, August 23, 2021. Wegner does not elaborate on how they knew it was the Stasi, suggesting that this was a hunch or kind of intuitive knowledge based on collective prior experience within the network. In contrast, other manipulations were and remain unknowable, even after the opening of the Stasi files. Wegner recounts reading her files with Schlesinger, after the Wende and long after their divorce. They learned that one of the aims of the Stasi’s ‘Zersetzung’ was to destroy their marriage: “[da] hat der Klaus gesagt, ‘Mensch, Tina, vielleicht haben die daran mitgewirkt,’ und da hab’ ick gesagt [
laughs] ‘Ne, Klaus, das haben wir ganz alleene geschafft’” (then Klaus said, “Gosh, Tina, maybe they were involved,” and I said [
laughs] “No, Klaus, we did it all by ourselves”).
20Interview with Bettina Wegner, August 23, 2021.This lack of certainty even after the opening of the files is similar to Kolbe’s continued uncertainty regarding the role of his father and Wagner’s puzzlement at why the Stasi thought he might consider becoming an informant. Kolbe’s description of his knowledge about who was an informant is similarly ambivalent. On the one hand, he states of the “Spitzel” (snitch) in his (undefined) group in the army: “da haben sie einen Spitzel—und das war deutlich—, sie haben einen Spitzel in diese Gruppe gesetzt, sozusagen für mich [
laughs] ein Leibspitzel … Der Witz war, dass das eigentlich irgendwie jeder wusste” (they put a snitch—and that was clear—they put a snitch in this group, a personal snitch for me, so to speak [
laughs] … The joke was that somehow everyone actually knew it).
21Interview with Uwe Kolbe, June 1, 2021. Here we see him expressing certainty—not only he, but in fact “everyone” knew that this individual was an informant. We might ask if this certainty in retrospect is in part a result of the fact that the informant revealed himself on their final mission: “Hat er mir beim letzten Ausgang erzählt, dass er da jeweils immer über mich berichten musste und so weiter … Dann haben wir ein Bier getrunken und okay. War die Sache erledigt, ja” (he told me on the last outing that he always had to report on me and so on … Then we had a beer and it was okay. That was the end of it, yes).
22Interview with Uwe Kolbe, June 1, 2021. This is a common theme in our interviews: if informants were open and honest about their behaviour, they could be forgiven, it was the secrecy that destroyed relationships.
When asked by Windsor how he could be so certain at the time that this individual was an informant, Kolbe says it related to his behaviour: “Der war, der hat so Dinge gemacht, der war nicht wie die andern [
laughs]” (he was, he did things, he was not like the others [laughs]).
23Interview with Uwe Kolbe, June 1, 2021. This included going to bed early, rather than staying up to play cards and drink illegal schnaps—a kind of rule of thumb that those displaying conformist behaviour were to be distrusted. It is when he describes this rule of thumb in the interview that Kolbe describes as uncertain knowledge something that he had previously described as certain. Where previously, as we have seen, he stated that “jeder wusste” (everyone knew) that this individual was an informant, he now states: “Es war, im Grunde war es nur ein Verdacht. Es war … Er tat Dinge, die man so nicht tut. Er hat mit den andern sich nicht gemein gemacht und gleichzeitig hat er immer, hat er auch blöde Nachfragen gestellt. Also, er war auffällig, ja?” (it was, basically it was just a suspicion. It was … He did things that you don’t do. He didn’t make fun of the others and at the same time he always asked stupid questions. So, he was conspicuous, right?).
24Interview with Uwe Kolbe, June 1, 2021. As in the discussion of the attempted recruitment, we see Kolbe revising his statement of certainty as he is asked to explain that certainty. This speaks to this knowledge as a kind of intuition or heuristic, developed in the context of the environment in which Kolbe and his colleagues were working and used to navigate a society steeped in mistrust. Rules of thumb that made sense at the time no longer make quite as much sense to Kolbe when he narrates them from the position of the present. Indeed, Kolbe comes to realise that the process of the interview itself has made him realise how little he really knew:
Ich finde, dass man eigentlich, wenn Sie [Windsor] immer so nachfragen … begreift man eigentlich, dass man verdammt wenig wusste. Also ich wusste verdammt wenig. … Der große schwarze Mann, ja, das irgendwas … Sozusagen der Ledermantel, der Schlapphut. Irgendwie. Also irgendwas … etwas, von dem man—ich jedenfalls—viel zu wenig wusste.
25Interview with Uwe Kolbe, June 1, 2021.[I find that as you [Windsor] keep asking these questions … you actually realise that you knew damn little. Well, I knew damn little … The big dark figure, yes, that something … The leather coat, so to speak, the floppy hat. Somehow. So something … something you knew far too little about—at least I did.]
Indeed, these rules of thumb were at best precarious knowledge. As in the case of Moog and Wegner, Kolbe admits that he suspected many innocent people of having worked as informants and failed to recognise some of the most prolific informants in the Prenzlauer Berg scene. Kolbe states: “Meine Nase war schlecht … auf dem Gebiet. Das hat nicht funktioniert. Ich hab die falschen Leute verdächtigt und die richtigen nicht verdächtigt” (my nose was poor in this area. It didn’t work. I suspected the wrong people and did not suspect the right ones).
26Interview with Uwe Kolbe, June 1, 2021. We see from his story about the informant in his army troop that this is an exaggeration; however, it speaks to an ambivalence in Kolbe’s account. Kolbe says:
Ich hab Leute verdächtigt, nur weil sie’n bestimmten Habitus hatten. Also, irgendwie … weiß ich, einer … irgendwie einer zu glatte Haare, zu weiß der Teufel, zu ordentlich angezogen und plötzlich … Also, ganz blöd, ja. Wirklich auch Kollegen, also, andere junge Schriftsteller und Leute, wo ich dann … also, wo man so ne Reserve hatte einfach, und die Reserve war eben nicht da, wo sie hätte sein müssen.
27Interview with Uwe Kolbe, June 1, 2021.[I suspected people just because they had a certain habitus. Somehow … I know, someone … somehow someone with too straight hair, too God knows what, too neatly dressed and suddenly … Well, quite stupidly, yes. Colleagues too, really, other young writers and people where I then … well, where you simply had a reserve, and the reserve wasn’t where it should have been.]
Knowledge that felt certain at the time now appears to be based on shaky ground and unreliable heuristics that were ultimately harmful or “unangenehm” (unpleasant). In his 1994 text,
Die Situation (The Situation),
Kolbe states that he owes a personal apology to those people he suspected, who turned out not only not to have been informants, but to have been victims of Stasi observation themselves: “Das Mißtrauen, es fraß mehr oder minder in uns allen. Wir hätten
schöner miteinander leben können” (the mistrust ate away at all of us to a greater or lesser extent. We could have lived together better).
28Kolbe, Die Situation, 23 n.16.While Wagner does not use language that suggests intuition or rules of thumb when it came to resisting the recruitment attempt, in his discussion of Stasi informants within this scene, this kind of knowledge does appear to have played a role. Regarding the prolific and high-profile informant, Sascha Anderson, Wagner recalls that he did not suspect Anderson: “ich wusste nichts, ob er bei der Stasi war, oder so—wer sollte das auch wissen, es gab auch keine, keine direkten Gerüchte oder sowas” (I didn’t know whether he was in the Stasi or anything—how could anyone know that, there were no direct rumours or anything like that).
29Interview with Bernd Wagner, October 20, 2020. However, he nonetheless wanted nothing to do with Anderson, something that he also struggles to explain in retrospect: “ich hab gesagt mit Sascha Anderson mach ich nichts. So. Ich wusste nicht warum, aber mit dem wollte ich nichts machen” (I said I wouldn’t do anything with Sascha Anderson. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to do anything with him).
30Interview with Bernd Wagner, October 20, 2020. There is a risk here of projecting knowledge gained since the opening of the Stasi files back onto what were simply personal animosities; however, Wagner is not alone in finding Anderson in some way untrustworthy, despite his deep entanglement in the unofficial scene and his own public confrontations with the state (including his arrest and imprisonment).
31For a (deeply problematic) account of Anderson’s complicity with the Stasi see his autobiographical text. Anderson, Sascha Anderson. Stötzer describes the animosity between herself and Anderson and her knowledge at the time that Anderson was attempting to isolate her, forbidding anyone to speak to her because she was a “Versagerin” (loser) and “furchtbare Emanze” (dreadful women’s libber). She states that she sought out others who avoided working with Anderson, including Kolbe, Wagner and Jan Faktor.
32Interview with Gabriele Stötzer, June 14, 2021.Where Wagner’s dislike of Anderson is described as intuitive—that is, as based on an instinctive response rather than articulable knowledge—Wagner is able to explain in more detail why he suspected a woman who had been “ununterbrochen an meiner Seite” (stuck to my side) for a week during a particularly intense period of activity relating to the magazine Mikado—including preparations for a demonstration against the demolition of gasometers in Prenzlauer Berg—and had subsequently disappeared. He notes that she was one of only three people who had access to an edition of the magazine that had found its way onto the desk of Kolbe’s (Stasi officer) father. He tells Windsor that he wrote about the woman in a text focusing on his experiences with the Stasi more broadly. In the work, Wagner plays on the woman’s name—Anastasia—to make the pun “Anna-Stasia.” He recounts that the woman approached him at a reading, furious at the accusations in the text and asserting her innocence:
… sie hat gesagt, sie hätte da überhaupt nichts damit zu tun, und ich konnte dann nichts anderes ihr erwidern als, “aber du hast dich so benommen,” wie sich eigentlich nur ein Stasi-Spitzel, oder ja, wie sich ein Stasi-Spitzel benimmt. Also, du warst an meiner Seite, in diesem Moment, als es darum ging, mich zu überwachen, während dieser ganzen Demonstrationszeit und so weiter, du bist danach verschwunden, dieses Heft ist durch dich in die Hände der Stasi gekommen, also was soll ich anderes vermuten.
33Interview with Bernd Wagner, October 20, 2020.[She said she had nothing to do with it at all, and then I couldn’t think of anything to say to her other than, “but you behaved like that,” like only a Stasi spook, or yes, like a Stasi spook behaves. So you were by my side, at that moment when I was under surveillance, during the whole demonstration period and so on, you disappeared afterwards, this magazine edition came into the hands of the Stasi through you, so what else can I assume?]
What we see here is once again knowledge built on the basis of an individual’s behaviour. “Anastasia”’s assertion of innocence challenges the certainty of this knowledge: a certainty that seems confirmed by Wagner’s inclusion of the episode in his text. The assumed knowledge in this particular case turns out to be wrong; however, Wagner refuses to remove the detail from his text: “Weil ich es geschrieben habe aus der Bewusstseinslage damals, also wie ich es vermuten musste, und es ja auch wichtig war, unsere ständigen Zweifel, und das Misstrauen untereinander, und die Verdächtigungen, also zu artikulieren, in denen wir gelebt haben” (Because I wrote it from what I understood at the time, as I had to make assumptions, and it was also important to articulate our constant doubts, and the mistrust among ourselves, and the suspicions with which we lived).
34Interview with Bernd Wagner, October 20, 2020. This statement is a clear articulation of the challenges and benefits of intuitive or heuristic knowledge about the Stasi in the GDR. Uncertain knowledge, based on “assumptions” or rules of thumb had to be used to make sense of a world so deeply infiltrated by the “known unknown” of the secret police. That uncertain knowledge allowed the development of relationships of trust and yet also fostered mistrust and unfounded suspicions because—as Wagner puts it—“man konnte sich ja selten sicher sein. Wenn man noch so eine gute Nase hatte” (you could rarely be certain. However good your nose for these things).
35Interview with Bernd Wagner, October 20, 2020.In his post-Wende fictional text, “Stube und der Herr” (Stube and the Gentleman), published in 1991 in the collection
Die Wut im Koffer, Wagner stages a conversation between “Stube” and a critical intellectual recounting his experiences in the GDR and after its collapse and the opening of the Stasi files. The “Herr” describes a special relationship between him and those he describes as the “Kanzlisten” (administrative clerks—here those serving power): “das ist vor allem eine Sache der Nasen. Man nimmt Witterung auf, wenn man sich begegnet, und dabei sticht jedem etwas Fremdes, ja Feindliches in die Geruchsknospen, und das Verhältnis ist ein für allemal festgelegt” (it’s primarily a matter of the nose. You pick up scents when you meet, and something foreign, even hostile, stings everyone’s olfactory buds, and the relationship is fixed once and for all).
36Wagner, “Stube und der Herr,” 314. The “Herr” describes to Stube how he was not only observed by the Stasi, but also observed them, gathering his own “Archiv” (archive) consisting of “Erinnerungen, Vermutungen und Halluzinationen” (memories, suspicions and hallucinations). He adds that it is of little interest to him whether or not the one being observed was really in the Stasi, it was sufficient “wenn er sich so benommen hat, als ob er dabeigewesen sein könnte” (if he behaved as if he could have been with them).
37Wagner, “Stube und der Herr,” 313. In this account, behaving as if one could be a Stasi informant or officer means behaving as if one might be complicit with state power. Here, Wagner not only indicates a kind of countersurveillance (a theme described in more detail in chapter 3); he also suggests that other forms of complicity with the SED regime were equally reprehensible.