A day that turned history: 30 years after the fall of the Berlin Wall

We were living in Bernau, near Berlin. That evening, we were watching an East German news programme called “Aktuelle Kamera”. It was reported that the Central Committee of the SED [Socialist Unity Party] had decided that, from that day on, everyone could travel freely to West Germany and West Berlin. Western television stations that we received in Bernau even said that the Wall had been opened. We could scarcely believe our ears. But we weren't overjoyed.

At first, we were still anxious because the division of the world into two camps was for us a given—something we didn't question—and the Berlin Wall was its manifestation, a symbol. Had all the tensions suddenly become a thing of the past? What would become of the GDR [German Democratic Republic]? Would it possibly end in violence after all? The inner turmoil that my wife and I had already been witnessing since the Monday demonstrations began taking place throughout the GDR had been difficult to bear.

“I had always thought that a wall that cuts through families, dividing a people, could not be a permanent fixture. But I had not dared to believe that it would all happen so soon and at such breathtaking speed.”

On that evening, however, our curiosity got the best of us. In the end, and just like thousands of others, we made our way to the Wall, in the heart of Berlin. Things were already pretty exuberant on the local rail line leading to the Brandenburg Gate. When we arrived at the Wall, we saw fireworks going off and people celebrating. We were not able to make it to the border because of the crowds of people.

As foreigners living in East Germany, we would not have dared to cross the border anyway. Later in the evening, we drove back home. I had to reflect a lot about Mongolia. How would the news from Germany be received there? What would become of this Soviet satellite State situated between Russia and China? People were celebrating on the streets of Berlin. People were even dancing in the streets of Bernau. When things remained peaceful over the following days and the Brandenburg Gate was ceremoniously opened in December, our tense mood gradually relaxed.

I had always thought that a wall that cuts through families, dividing a people, could not be a permanent fixture. But I had not dared to believe that it would all happen so soon and at such breathtaking speed. I had come to East Germany from a distant country, and I witnessed how East and West, capitalism and socialism, united peacefully. 

What was the mood like among German and international students and lecturers at your school?

The FDJ Academy was a place where young Communist cadres were trained. Even before the fall of the Berlin Wall, when people in Leipzig and elsewhere were taking to the streets, the climate at our school began to change. You could feel that something was brewing, that things couldn't just keep going the same way for long. After the fall of the Berlin Wall, a great uncertainty began to sweep through the Academy. For many, it was the end of the world. They had believed in socialism and its superiority. They had supported East Germany and the SED State. They recoiled in horror over the thought of impending reunification with an overpowering West Germany. Almost everyone was worried about their future. 

I had the impression that nobody really wanted speedy reunification. The preferred outcome was close cooperation between the two German States and reunification at some point in the distant future. Basic, but also very personal considerations played a role here. After all, who in a reunited Germany would still need experts on scientific Communism or lecturers on East German history?

The intellectual elite of the SED State faced a threat of a precipitous slide into unemployment. Some people became depressed and alcoholics as a result. Others simply failed to show up for work. I did not recognize many of my colleagues anymore. Only a short time before, they had been full of confidence and were convinced of Communism as a science. Everything they had ever believed in all their lives had been turned upside down. Looking back, I would say that the collapse of an order in which one had always believed, despite some criticism that one kept very much to themselves, weighed more heavily than the loss of jobs and income.

“Everything they had ever believed in all their lives had been turned upside down. Looking back, I would say that the collapse of an order in which one had always believed, […] weighed more heavily than the loss of jobs and income.”

Classroom instruction continued for the time being, however, it was only in spring 1990 that our school closed. But from that point on, there was plenty of open, critical discussion. The times in which the Party and the State had been praised in glowing terms came to an abrupt end. Students inundated lecturers with questions that they had no answers to and which they often tried to sidestep in their wavering uncertainty.

You were a Mongolian student in the GDR. What impression did the country make on you back then?

For the best pupils in my class year in socialist Mongolia at that time, it meant an opportunity to study in a befriended socialist country. And it was in this way that I, a simple nomadic child from the countryside, was given the opportunity to go to a university in one of the socialist countries. I was interested in Germany. 

East Germany was considered to be the most highly developed country in the socialist world, and I envisaged it in the most vibrant and dazzling colours. I wanted to see it with my own eyes, study there and learn a lot. And so I studied food technology at Humboldt University in Berlin. I followed in the footsteps of the first Mongols who had gone to Germany as students as far back as the 1920s to learn how they could construct a successful education system in Mongolia.

The journey from Ulaanbaatar to Leipzig, where I was first to learn German at Herder Institute, was by train—an interminable journey. On the way, Mongolian students made a stop in Moscow, where I was literally stunned by the splendour of the centre of the Soviet capital.

How grey it was in Germany! As a child from the countryside, I was used to the blue sky, the glowing red sun and clear, starry nights. I did not find any of this when I arrived in East Germany. Clouds hung low from the grey sky, it was foggy, and there seemed to be a monolithic grey pall hanging over the entire city. Even the people seemed grey and monolithic to me. Where had I ended up? Would the sun ever shine here? But I got used to things and settled in quickly and on a positive note. In my time as student, I made a lot of friends, many of whom I still have today. I met my wife in Germany, started a family and we raised our children there.

Today, I regard Germany as my second home. 

Germany's reunification also served as a model for Mongolia. In 1990, we made the transition from socialism to democracy and a market economy in our own peaceful revolution. But we can also learn from Germany in coming to terms with a difficult past in which cruelties and heinous crimes were committed in the name of the State.

In the 1930s, over 30,000 innocent citizens, including intellectuals, monks and officials, were murdered in cold blood and more than 700 Buddhist temples destroyed in Mongolia in the name of Communist ideology during the Stalinist purges. At that time, uninhibited violence was the order of the day, and no limits were set. This inflicted wounds among many families that have yet to heal to this very day. This ‘inner wall’ has yet to be completely torn down. The 30th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall also bears witness to this.

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