Walking A Tightrope

As the last notes of the peace canon drifted up into the spires of the cathedral, 150 East German young people moved quickly into small discussion groups. A few found chairs, but most sat perched on the 400-year-old pews.

Our small group immediately began talking about the pending deployment of the new U.S. missiles in West Germany. "If the missiles are only 12 minutes from Moscow, what does that mean for us?" asked one young man. Another student complained to the group that he could not understand why the government said that missiles in the West were evil, but Soviet missiles to be deployed in the forest nearby were "peaceful."

This event was one of hundreds that took place throughout the German Democratic Republic (GDR) during the churches' annual peace week, or "Ten Days for Peace," November 6 to 16, 1983. For the last four years, the Federation of Protestant Churches in the GDR has set aside this time for education, dialogue, and reflection on peace issues in local congregations. We participated as part of a delegation of international observers from the West, including the National Council of Churches in the United States, whom we represented, plus churches in Great Britain, Italy, and Holland. We listened to people of all ages express their deepest feelings of anxiety, fear, resignation, and hope.

These emotions were not surprising. The West German parliament was about to give its approval to the deployment of cruise and Pershing II missiles, and from Britain and Italy came reports that components for the new missiles had already arrived. In Geneva, the negotiations were stalled and on the verge of total collapse. And in the GDR, the government had recently announced that if missiles were stationed in the West, the Warsaw Pact would respond by stationing new Soviet SS-22 and SS-23 short-range missiles on East German soil.

Under the theme "Making Peace from the Power of the Weak," the churches' peace week offered a "free space": an opportunity for people to share their feelings openly in the midst of a highly controlled and increasingly militarized society.

The theme was appropriate, for the Protestant church in East Germany is weak. Official membership is considered to be about 40 per cent of the population (seven million out of 17 million), but active Christians make up only about three per cent of the society. Interestingly enough, this is about the same percentage as the active membership in the Communist party. The crucial difference is that the Communists are in control, replacing the church in its traditional role of power.

Since the time of Martin Luther, the German princes ruled the land with the church at their sides. In Schwerin, a city in northern GDR, the cathedral caretaker explained how these power relationships were reflected in the church architecture. Standing in the prince's private box, we looked out over the elevated pews formerly reserved for the military. The caretaker also pointed out that because the peasants were tied to the land, they belonged to the church chosen by the prince. As a result of 400 years of control of the church by the aristocracy and the state, the people have no history of caring for the church building or even paying the pastor's salary.

The 1930s and 40s saw the silent church of the Nazi era. As we drove north to the Baltic Sea, a youth pastor told us, "This autobahn [highway] was built by Hitler. He offered our parents jobs, honor, and security. So most of the church people said nothing about the repression or slaughter of the Jews. We have come a long way in 30 years, from fascism to socialism with no revolution."

Later we visited the concentration camp memorial at Sachsenhausen. It was striking to see the isolation cell that held Martin Niemoeller alongside the cells of Communist party leaders, who together faced the same torture for their opposition to Nazism. Unfortunately the resistance of Niemoeller, Bonhoeffer, and the Confessing Church was the exception in Germany, not the rule.

Since World War II, the churches in East Germany have struggled to understand their role in a society where socialism was imposed from the top down. After initial opposition to the new social order, the church declared it would function "within socialism," not for or against it, and pressed for government recognition as a legitimate voice within society. The churches now find themselves walking a tightrope with the government on peace issues.

The German people launched and lost two major wars in this century and today express a profound desire for peace. Yet the division of Germany into East and West and the buildup of armaments on both sides of the border make them hostages to the superpower competition and Germany a likely flash point for a third world war. The GDR government declares that its official policy is in defense of peace; the churches support the government in opposing the deployment of cruise and Pershing II missiles and favoring a U.S.-Soviet nuclear weapons freeze. But while maintaining an attitude that is pro-peace instead of anti-state, the churches also insist on going further.

This fall the leadership of the church synods took a stand against the deployment of both Soviet and NATO missiles in the GDR, calling on the Soviet Union to begin destroying some of its SS-20 missiles unilaterally and urging the East German government to work "towards the goal that no short-range atomic missiles be deployed in the territory of the GDR either during the current Geneva negotiations or at any later time." The church has also opposed compulsory classroom military instruction in the ninth and 10th grades. Since the 1960s it has campaigned actively for the right of conscientious objection (CO) in a country with universal military conscription.

In 1964, as a result of lobbying by the church, the government established "Construction Soldiers" (Bausoldaten), military construction units without arms, to provide a form of conscientious objection. No such provision for CO status exists elsewhere in Eastern Europe. Furthermore, the GDR churches have clearly endorsed conscientious objection as a form of peace witness. They have offered pastoral counseling and support to COs, who suffer widespread discrimination once they have completed their service.

The churches also support those who risk prison for absolute refusal to serve in the military. In East Berlin we met a seminary student, Christoff Theilmann, the son of a Protestant church pastor and one of the few absolute refusers who has not been jailed. Most who refuse to serve in any capacity spend 18 to 26 months in prison, but Theilmann was inexplicably given a special certificate exempting him from military service.

Recently church authorities have been trying to persuade the government to institute civilian alternative service, entirely separate from the military, as exists in West Germany. Though talks with the government have taken place, because of the high demand for conscripts and the loophole this would open for a larger number of COs, it appears doubtful such a program will be instituted.

The opening event of the peace week, held in a church in Potsdam, drew more than a thousand people for an evening worship service preceded by Bible study and discussion groups. A banner was unfurled at the service which paraphrased the churches' statements expressing total rejection of nuclear weapons. Such a banner could not be displayed at an officially sponsored demonstration against NATO weapons, but in the context of a church-sponsored event, it was a legitimate expression of Christian concern about the arms race.

The peace week took place at a time of particular tension in East Germany. The previous week a church-related group attempted to deliver a letter to the U.S. and Soviet embassies in East Berlin. The idea for the public action involving a delegation of about 25 people emerged out of discussions with members of the Green Party from West Germany. Discussions with church leaders and government officials in advance had cleared the way for the action. Suddenly, the night before it was scheduled to take place, approximately 50 people were rounded up by the security police and either put under house arrest or held for 24 hours by the police.

When we talked with some of those involved in planning the aborted action, a local pastor emphasized the group's desire to work "in small ways" within the constraints of their society, avoiding confrontation with the government. The group felt that the involvement of the Green Party was probably the reason for the authorities' last-minute decision to stop public delivery of the letters.

The bishop for Berlin-Brandenburg did later succeed in delivering the letters and meeting with U.S. and Soviet embassy officials. The Soviet government was asked to "start scrapping SS-20 missiles," and the U.S. embassy promised it would forward the letter protesting cruise and Pershing II missiles to President Reagan. The letters described the concern of many Christians that new missiles in the West would lead to further development of weapons on both sides and concluded by appealing to "everyone to take steps to build confidence and detente. We ask both sides to build trust, not mistrust, and common security, not insecurity."

East Germany is currently believed to have 20 to 30 missile launchers on its soil, but is officially considered a "nuclear-free territory." The Soviet Union controls both the launchers and the nuclear warheads; the latter are brought in and then withdrawn after military exercises. In the event of a war, they could be quickly readied and fired. The Warsaw Pact has been planning to station more modern, short-range SS-22 and SS-23 missiles in East Germany and Czechoslovakia, and that deployment is reportedly being accelerated as part of the Soviets' response to the new U.S.-NATO missiles.

Alarmed at this escalation of the arms race in Europe, a number of congregations wrote letters to the GDR head of state, Erich Honecker, urging him to take steps to prevent the installation of new missiles in East or West. The government printed two of these letters in Neus Deutschland, the official newspaper, a move unprecedented in East Germany. Their publication was apparently intended to give the Soviets a signal indicating the depth of concern over the new missiles to be deployed on East German soil.

"We write you this letter with sorrow in our hearts," one such appeal began. It continued:

Since the middle of September, we have prayed together with many Christians in other parishes in Dresden. Like many citizens of our land, we feel ourselves especially threatened by the escalation of nuclear armaments in Europe. We fear that the deployment of the American nuclear missiles will be answered on our own territory by preparations for deployment of a counterforce, and we and our children will have to live with these weapons. You have said several times that more armaments will bring no more security. The mandate of the hour is to meet and talk about destroying armaments.

Many young people, attracted to the "free space" offered by the churches, are encouraged by the bold positions taken by the church leadership. In statements adopted by the synods, church leaders have rejected the "spirit and logic of deterrence"; called for unilateral, "one-sided" disarmament steps; and endorsed the World Council of Churches' declaration decrying the production, deployment, and use of nuclear weapons as a "crime against humanity." These positions are even bolder and more far-reaching, in some cases, than those taken by churches in the West.

At the same time, though, many young people feel frustrated by the limited opportunities they have to live out the spirit and letter of the churches' prophetic positions. This is compounded by a more general attitude of depression about the future fueled by skepticism about a social structure that is so tightly managed from the top and by constant comparisons to the West.

Nearly everywhere people struggle with whether or not to sign petitions being circulated in schools and factories endorsing the deployment of missiles in the GDR. For many this has precipitated a crisis of conscience, pitting their gut-level feelings and moral position as Christians against strong social pressure from peers and the authorities. This crisis reinforces the feeling many have of living two lives, one public and the other private, as citizens of the state and members of the church.

One woman said her body shook when she was given the statement to sign supporting the missile deployment. "I felt like I was being asked to sign my death warrant," she said. But because she worked for the state, she felt she had no choice but to sign. Some young people were afraid that refusing to sign would endanger their chances of going to a university or getting the job they wanted.

But others simply said no. A young bookstore clerk refused to sign when her boss passed the petition around to the staff. She was accused of having attended a church peace service the night before, and was told to report to the authorities to talk over her position. She insisted she would not sign, even though it might mean losing her job.

In a large, state-run office where similar petitions were circulated, only six out of 36 people in one department signed. The heads of other departments refused to even circulate the petition. By the time we left the GDR, we were told that the government was playing down the petition-gathering effort, apparently sensing the backlash it was creating.

We saw many creative expressions of the churches' concern for peace and justice between East and West and in the Third World. A youth group in Potsdam developed a poster display dramatizing hunger in the Sahel. Another group organized a letter-writing campaign to the U.N. to protest the possible invasion of Nicaragua by the United States. Every worship service included prayers for the world's poor, for example: "Our arms race gives them the leftovers. They need the materials that we put into arms to keep from starving." We were constantly asked about the Grenada invasion, and one young man asked point-blank, "Why did your government act like the Soviets did in Afghanistan?"

Symbols are important in East Germany because they bond people together and provide them with a means of self-expression. The most prominent symbol of church-based peace work has been the "swords into plowshares" logo, developed for the first peace week four years ago. The symbol shows the statue given by the Soviet Union to the U.N. of a man beating a sword into a plowshare and quotes from the prophet Micah.

Once published on a poster and flyer, it was quickly turned into handmade patches that thousands of young people wore on their sleeves. Because it implied rejection of all swords, not only those in Western hands, the authorities cracked down at one point and banned the wearing of the symbol. Some young people were arrested or picked up by the police and interrogated. Following this confrontation talks between church and state produced a compromise in which the church agreed to discourage the wearing of the patches, while maintaining the right to reproduce the symbol on its peace literature.

Other symbols emphasize the spiritual roots of the churches' peace work. Thousands of small ceramic stones imprinted with a cross were distributed, and people were asked to wear them on a string around their necks. Following a prayer guide, they added a knot for each day of the "Ten Days of Peace."

One church group created its own symbol for peace week using a long piece of red ribbon. Each person snipped off a small piece and pinned it to their clothing, demonstrating their individual and collective commitment to peace. Such symbols, without words or graphics, could be worn in school without provoking controversy and trouble with teachers.

We also saw displays of explicitly pacifist sentiments in church foyers and parish halls. For example, a hand-drawn poster proclaimed, "I wish we had a world in which the people would say, 'We lost the war and can't find it again!'" Another quoted Albert Einstein: "Killing in war is no better than ordinary murder." Other creative outlets for self-expression included music festivals (similar to the coffee houses of the antiwar movement here in the 1960s), pantomimes and theater skits, workshops, lectures, and discussion groups.

We experienced the first snow of the season while visiting a northern city with many lakes and a 14th-century king's palace perched on a tiny island. At noon the church bells rang, calling people to a peace prayer in the "Dom," the old cathedral in the center of the city.

Sixty people gathered in the dimly lit church for prayers, songs, and a brief period of reflection. We held hands, standing in a circle before the altar. It was assumed that as at any public event of this kind, security people might be present, noting what was said and who was there. But no one looked intimidated or anxious.

The candles we held were lit, and a brief message was given by one of the organizers of the service. He spoke about the light of hope being extinguished by a growing fear about the arms race. "Some of us," he said, "are signing the declaration supporting deployment without thinking or asking questions, and we too are guilty." He also referred to plans for a nearby autobahn that would not be built "because the concrete is needed for the missile silos." Then he urged us, on the night the first Pershing II missiles are installed in West Germany, to light these candles in our windows as a sign of continuing hope and resistance to the arms race. As citizens of the country responsible for installing those missiles, we found it especially painful and poignant to be part of the candlelit circle.

We returned from the GDR inspired and encouraged by the deep courage and commitment of so many of the people we met there. The "free space" for discussion and peace activity is severely limited, yet determined Christians are speaking out, conquering their fear, and trying to use and expand that space in every way possible. Their anxieties about the future are complicated by a lingering uncertainty over what the church may or may not be allowed to do in its pursuit of peace.

Increasing tensions between East and West may produce an intensified Cold War at home in the GDR. This past year there were some arrests and expulsions of peace activists who stepped over the invisible line between what is tolerated and what is prohibited. Official reaction could escalate as the arms race escalates.

The specter of Poland, where open rebellion against the state put the Roman Catholic church in an extremely dangerous and complicated position, hangs over the church hierarchy as well as government leaders in the GDR. At this point both church and state seem determined to avoid that fate and find another path. The policies of the two superpowers and the ability of the Western peace movements to help defuse the current East-West confrontation will influence the outcome of their struggle.

The church people of the GDR challenged us, as Westerners, to do more for peace. They pointed out that we have the right to demonstrate, to lobby our politicians, to write and circulate our own material. Yet despite public opinion polls showing broad support for the peace movements' goals in the United States and Western Europe, we have so far been unsuccessful in changing our governments' policies.

Working in our different societies and situations—and respecting the differences—we must persist in trying to change the political climate in East and West. Together, we must dissolve the enemy images built up on both sides.

Mike Jendrzejczyk was disarmament director of the Fellowship of Reconciliation and Marti Zimmerman was a pastor and seminar designer for the United Methodist Church when this article appeared.

'Common Security'

A major theme of the GDR churches' peace work is the concept of "common security" as an alternative to nuclear deterrence. Common Security is the title of a report issued in 1982 by a non-governmental commission, headed by the current Swedish prime minister, Olaf Palme. It is, in essence, a recognition of the fact that each side's security depends on reducing, not increasing, the threat felt by the other side.

"The present system of international security is based on the principle of mutual deterrence," said Helmut Domke, a scientist active in the churches' peace education program. "But security can't be reached against an opponent, only with him [sic]. We have to recognize our opponent's existence and his right to live. Furthermore, as Christians, the idea of 'common security' is the political translation of the biblical call to love our enemy.

"We must learn reconciliation to survive the current crisis, We cannot accept the buildup of enemy images on both sides. Rather, we have to learn about the thinking and actions of our opponents, understand the sources of his fear, and take steps—such as a freeze, an end to testing of nuclear weapons, establishment of nuclear-free zones—that will reduce the nuclear threat."

—M.J./M.Z.