The fate of nations can turn faster than we anticipate — and experts are often the last to know.
The worst part of the zeitgeist is the sense of inevitability. We just have that feeling that it will all go along the same or get worse. As in some combo of Friedrich vs. Hayek and Peter Rabbit: “Lippity, lippity, not very fast, down the road to serfdom.” After President Obama comes President Clinton. After “Race to the Top” or “No Child Left Behind” comes “Common Core.” After Chinese autocracy at home comes the expansion of Chinese autocracy into obscure corners of Africa.
But the political direction of nations can turn faster than we anticipate. To recall that, look not at Tiananmen Square, whose anniversary is marked this month, but rather at another country where something happened 25 years ago: Germany. The toppling of the Berlin Wall was a greater event even than Tiananmen. Tiananmen, after all, left the “one child” policy and most of the rest of the apparatus of China’s government in place. The opening of the Brandenburg Gate and Checkpoint Charlie forever changed the political configuration of a continent. A big Communist country became un-Communist and disappeared into another country. One of the globe’s most feared powers, Germany, was restored to its old imposing scale. The rest of Europe rearranged itself as well. Yet if you scrutinize reports of Germany from the seasons and months before November 9, and the evening when the guards let the East Berliners through, you’ll find scant portent of the transformation.
Indeed, many articles in the papers argued that it was all going the other way, away from reunification. “Despite New Stirrings, Dream of One Germany Fades,” read the May 14, 1989, headline in the New York Times story by Serge Schmemann. Schmemann allowed that the conservative Bild Zeitung, a West Berlin paper, had polled East Germans and found that 80 percent of them desired reunification of East and West. But Schmemann simultaneously noted that the Western newspaper’s poll of voters in Communist East Germany was “unofficial,” and he commented, snidely, that East Germans’ desire for change might rest on the rather suspicious fact they were “constantly reminded how much better and freer life is in the West.” (Yes.) The Times author laid more weight on a poll by the much-respected West German firm Wickert, which showed that 70 percent of West Germans believed the Wall would still stand in 2000.
Also in the Times, a month later, in June, West German author Peter Schneider suggested that West Germans, especially, had grown used to the Wall and might take comfort in having it around forever. “I have a hard time understanding why our neighbors are so afraid that we West Germans will seize the first opportunity to sell out the Western alliance in exchange for ‘reunification,’” Schneider wrote, placing reunification inside sneer quotes. Germans had no interest in the German question, Schneider insisted. That was June 25. Other reporters deployed elaborate metaphors to depict some kind of complicated and unfathomable Euro-architecture that necessitated near-forever German division. Other writers simply proffered opinion: “Go Slow on Germany,” admonished the senior pundit of the Herald Tribune, Flora Lewis, in September 1989, a time when the anti-regime protesters were already coming together weekly at the Nikolaikirche in Leipzig. A cultural report in the Times featured photos of the Berlin Wall that made it look as monumental and timeless as the Parthenon.