The 'Conservative Revolutionaries': The Protestant and Catholic Churches in Germany after Radical Political Change in the 1990s 9781782387947

Table of contents :
CONTENTS
Tables
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Part I: The Genesis of Church Models
Chapter 1. Church models as Guiding metaphors and Organizing Principles
Chapter 2. The Catholic and Protestant Guiding Metaphors in the GDR
Part II: The Transformation of Church Models
Chapter 3. The “Politics of Institutionalization”: An Analytical Introduction
Chapter 4. The Pastoral Care of Soldiers and Conscripts: A Paradigmatic Debate
Chapter 5. Religious Instruction: Living in a Secular World
Chapter 6. Social Welfare Provisions: At the Institutional Periphery
Conclusion
Appendixes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

“Conservative Revolutionaries”

Monographs in German History Volume 1

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Osthandel and Ostpolitik: German Foreign Trade Policies in Eastern Europe from Bismarck to Adenauer Mark Spaulding

The Politics of Education: Teachers and School Reform in Weimar Germany Marjorie Lamberti

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A Question of Priorities: Democratic Reform and Economic Recovery in Postwar Germany Rebecca Boehling Volume 3

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From Recovery to Catastrophe: Municipal Stabilization and Political Crisis in Weimar Germany Ben Lieberman

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The Crisis of the German Left: The PDS, Stalinism and the Global Economy Peter Thompson Volume 14

“Conservative Revolutionaries”: Protestant and Catholic Churches in Germany After Radical Political Change in the 1990s Barbara Thériault

“CONSERVATIVE REVOLUTIONARIES” Protestant and Catholic Churches in Germany After Radical Political Change in the 1990s

 Barbara Thériault

Berghahn Books New York • Oxford

Published in 2004 by

Berghahn Books www.berghahnbooks.com ©2004 Barbara Thériault

All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission of the publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Thériault, Barbara. “Conservative revolutionaries” : Protestant and Catholic churches in Germany after radical political change in the 1990s / Barbara Thériault. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index. ISBN 1-57181-667-4 (cl.: alk. paper) 1. Germany—Church history—20th century. 2. Protestant churches—Germany—History—20th century. 3. Catholic Church—Germany—History—20th century. 4. Church and state—Germany—History. I. Title. BR 856.3.T48 2004 274.3’0829—dc22

2003062960

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Printed in Canada on acid-free paper

CONTENTS

Tables Acknowledgments Introduction

Part I: The Genesis of Church Models Chapter 1. Church models as Guiding metaphors and Organizing Principles Chapter 2. The Catholic and Protestant Guiding Metaphors in the GDR

vi vii 1

9 15

Part II: The Transformation of Church Models Chapter 3. The “Politics of Institutionalization”: An Analytical Introduction Chapter 4. The Pastoral Care of Soldiers and Conscripts: A Paradigmatic Debate Chapter 5. Religious Instruction: Living in a Secular World Chapter 6. Social Welfare Provisions: At the Institutional Periphery

58 89 114

Conclusion

138

Appendixes

143

Bibliography

157

Index

183

49

Tables

Table 1.1 Table 2.1 Table 2.2 Table 2.3 Table 2.4 Table 2.5 Table 4.1 Table 5.1 Table 6.1 Table 6.2

The Dimensions of Institutionalization Processes Synoptic Figure of the Institutional Order of the GDR Church Membership in the Catholic Church in the GDR/New Federal States The Catholic Church in the GDR The Protestant Church in the GDR Church Membership in the Protestant Churches in the GDR/New Federal States Organizing Principles, Strategies, and Arguments in the Discussion on the Pastoral Care of Soldiers Conception of Religion, Proposals, and Strategies in the Discussion on Religious Instruction Caritas in the GDR/New Federal States Diakonie in the GDR/New Federal States

10 17 28 29 35 36 80 104 125 125

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This study was realized in the interdisciplinary atmosphere of the then newlyfounded Max Weber-Kolleg für kultur-und sozialwissenschaftliche Studien at the University of Erfurt. I would like to thank the Jutta-Heidemann Foundation and Quebec’s “Fonds pour Formation de Chercheurs et l’Aide à la Recherche” for their financial support. This study would not have been possible without the help of the members of the Max Weber-Kolleg. Special thanks go to my colleagues and friends, Thomas Beschorner, Markus Dressler, Reinhard Grütz, and Stephan Märkt; to my supervisors, Dieter Langewiesche, Josef Pilvousek, Claude Javeau; as well as to Wolfgang Schluchter, Hans Kippenberg, and Shmuel Eisenstadt for their “critique bienveillante.” I’m also indebted to Solange Wydmusch who gave me access to interview materials and who has been a wonderful discussion partner throughout the conception of the study. I assume the sole responsibility for the text and the translations, which are, unless otherwise noted, my own. Finally, I cannot forget to thank the citizens of Erfurt for sharing and responding to my curiosity. This book is dedicated to them.

INTRODUCTION

 I

The second revolution that took place in Germany over the last decade—the “revolution by means of contract” (Schluchter 1996)—led to the overthrow of the institutional order and the transfer of West German institutions to the territory of the former German Democratic Republic. German unification through “institutional transfer” (Lehmbruch 1994a) allowed the former East Germany to experience a quick transition to pluralism and to the market economy that was unique in central and eastern Europe.1 Article 23 of the Basic Law of the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) extended its institutions and structures to territory of the former German Democratic Republic (GDR).2 A “second phase of unification,” institutional consolidation, proved more difficult. This phase has been marked by a confrontation with the legacy of the GDR and by slow cultural unification. Scholars—not to mention the actors themselves—were quick to point to an East German “identity” or “mentality” and the chasm between this and “exported” institutions (Schluchter 1996; Waschkuhn, Thumfart, and Badelt 1999: 16). Some commentators also argued in the line of the “politics of authenticity” (Taylor 1992), that is, East Germans’ need for recognition (Pollack 1997a; Pollack 1999); while others, such as Seibel (1997), have stressed the persistence of social milieus in explaining the existence of remnants of the socialist experience in a postcommunist society.3 Briefly, the experiment named “unification,” to paraphrase Giesen and Leggewie (1991), represents a great challenge not only for East Germans but also for scholarship.

Notes for this section begin on page 5.

2 | “Conservative Revolutionaries”

II Unification through institutional transfer has bestowed an influential role on the churches and their welfare agencies in the public realm of the new eastern German states. After forty years of atheistic propaganda and policy, the extension of the Basic Law of the FRG to the Eastern states conferred new constitutional guarantees upon Christians and established religious organizations. New spheres of activity were opened up, and the influence of these organizations increased. Together these reforms assured the participation of religious organizations in policymaking and public service provisions in the areas of social policy, education, and the media. Subsequent legal provisions served to reiterate and indeed strengthen their position as well as define their role within state agencies. The constitutions of the new federal states now refer explicitly to the churches and their welfare organizations. The increased role and influence of the churches stand, however, in stark contrast with the low church membership of the population of the new Eastern states. Once the heartland of Reformation, only about twenty-five percent of its population is now affiliated with the Evangelical Church in Germany (EKD), the federation of Protestant churches. Catholics, a minority in the eastern territories at the founding of the first German national state, now account for only between four and six percent of the population (Pilvousek 1993a; Pollack 2000: 19).4 In fact, the former East Germany has one of the highest non-confessional populations in Europe. 5

III During the forty years of division, the Protestant and Catholic churches were the only organizations in East Germany to retain strong ties and organizational structures with their West German counterparts: they embodied continuity in a country marked by discontinuity.6 This situation allowed for continued communication as well as the transfer of people and goods in the divided Germany, not to mention innovative political initiatives such as the Ostpolitik of the West German government and the peace movement. As such, the churches were expected to both undergo smooth and rapid institutional consolidation and undertake an active role in the public realm of the new eastern German states. Whereas the reestablishment of the churches’ unity was indeed speedily completed, critical voices were heard over the West German system of church-state relations and the public role it confers on religious organizations. In particular, debates emerged around contemporary church practices in western Germany: the issue of statelevied church taxes, military chaplaincy, and religious instruction in state schools. Although the small Catholic Church in the new Eastern German states was not totally immune from such polemics (see Richter 1991; Thériault 1999), East German Protestants primarily fueled the debates with their brethren in the West. Critics often expressed the idea that despite all their difficulties, something pre-

Introduction | 3

cious was lost in the collapse of the GDR—what has been termed Ostalgie. The discussions that were engaged in on the churches’ public role, their Öffentlichkeitsauftrag, considerably hindered their inner consolidation in the 1990s. They show that the continuity that characterized the churches as organizations is not reflected in values and self-definitions.

IV The division of Germany—as well as the experience of the Third Reich—and the institutional order imposed by the communists radically redefined the churches’ relationship to the state in East Germany. In spite of the contacts they maintained and cultivated during the period of the two Germanys, the churches in the East drifted apart from their sister churches in the West on various issues. Although the Protestant and Catholic churches in East Germany evolved within a common institutional order, they adopted different paths: one in opposition to the state, the other in symbiosis with it.7 The Protestant churches are remembered for their ambiguous attitude to the state—under the controversial motto “the Church in socialism”—but also for the role they were granted during the 1980s as platform for grassroots groups in the “peaceful revolution” that led to the demise of the GDR. In contrast, the Catholic Church has been referred to as the “Church of silence” (Richter 1989: 1238). During the forty years of the GDR, this smaller church played a minor, unobtrusive role in the country’s political life. This situation reversed after the fall of the Berlin Wall. While the change presented new problems for many Protestants and hindered this church’s consolidation, the small Catholic Church has undertaken what has been polemically described as a “re-Catholization” of East Germany (Neubert quoted in Lange 1996: 96). They have created new structures, have restored and expanded older ones, and have taken over formerly state-run social agencies. The Catholics have gained (some) political power and become part of an elaborate network of associations. As such, the study of churches raises issues of change and continuity in German history.

V A perusal of the literature on East Germany shows that the churches in the GDR constituted a major subject of social inquiry (Nowak 1996). However, there has been little research on organized religion following the demise of the GDR, and even less analysis comparing the Catholic and Protestant churches.8 The lack of scholarly work contrasts with the number of statements, discussion papers, and theological articles published in the last decade by church officials and laymen. These publications are at the heart of my inquiry. 9 In discussing the role of the Protestant and Catholic churches and their associated organizations and agencies,

4 | “Conservative Revolutionaries”

and how they cope with the challenges brought by the collapse of the GDR and by institutional transfer, these publications point to conflicting conceptions of the churches’ public role. Furthermore, they illustrate how religious actors conceive and construct their new relation to the state. Through the analysis of the debates that accompanied the reestablishment of the churches’ unity, we attempt to outline the promoted church models, that is, what Protestant and Catholic actors consider to be the “most modern definition of the church and its public role.” The material primarily addresses the issue of religious instruction and military chaplaincy—a minor field of activity—while it barely deals with the welfare service provisions.10 As the debates have not had the same intensity in all domains where churches and state interact, they suggest high and low tensions in the relations between churches and in the relations between religion and politics in the new Germany more generally. From the material available and from descriptions of the situation, four observations may be discerned that chart the historical and sociological problem at the core of this book. First, despite organizational ties cultivated by religious organizations in the GDR and the FRG, conflicts nonetheless arose concerning their role, their principles, and the practices that have impeded the churches’ internal consolidation process. Second, the Protestant churches were much more affected by such internal dissension than were their Catholic counterparts. Third, dissension has arisen over the issue of church-state relations, but has not affected all domains where churches cooperate with state agencies. Fourth, it should also be noted that although “institutional transfer,” the selected method of unification, affected the institutions of the former GDR much more than those of the FRG, the former’s institutions were not completely wiped out nor were the latter’s left untouched. Some principles that were at least latently present in West Germany became accentuated during the “second phase of unification”; others acquired a dynamic of their own. As conflicts over the future model of church-state relations attest, the legitimacy of the transferred model is being questioned. In short, the transformation of religious organizations—and German unification—has been uneven and more complex than assumed by the implicated parties and scholars at the beginning of the 1990s.11 Against the backdrop of such considerations, the present study aims to describe and explain the transformation of the Protestant and Catholic churches’ conception of their role, and the work carried out by specialist agents in bringing it about, following the remarkable events that paved the way to the collapse of the GDR and to German unification. For this purpose, I draw on Max Weber’s sociology and make use of an “institutional analysis.” Rainer Lepsius (1995d) argues indeed that Max Weber developed a theory of institutions or, to be more precise, a theory of institutionalization. The main issues, concepts, and dimensions raised by institutions should help us throw light onto the evolution of the churches’ conception of their role in the GDR and, more generally, onto the mechanisms of their transformation following the demise of the socialist state and German unification. Further, they should help us to gain new insight

Introduction | 5

into the work of religious agents to legitimate and delegitimate these conceptions in order to maintain or to challenge them, a process I refer to as the “politics of institutionalization.” As what is generally termed the “positive experiences of the GDR and the ‘Wende’” was particularly challenged following radical political change, special attention will be paid to its defenders, those who are polemically labeled the “conservative revolutionaries.”

Notes 1. The transition is often referred to as a second, briefer, Sonderweg in modern German history (see, among others, von Beyme 1996: 305). 2. Another possible alternative, Article 146 of the Basic Law, foresaw the formation of a constitutional assembly and the drafting of a new constitution (Quint 1997). 3. For instance, the electoral success of the PDS, the reinvented communist party, or the Jugendweihe, the civil consecration ceremony introduced by the communists, are often mentioned as some of the GDR’s legacies. 4. These figures contrast sharply with church membership in western Germany, which is estimated at approximately 80 percent—the percentage of Catholics being slightly higher than that of Protestants (Pollack 1997b: 395). 5. Among those with no church affiliation in the East, forty percent have left their churches while sixty percent never had an affiliation (Simon 1998: 563). The 1990s were characterized by a sharp decline in membership that particularly affected the Protestant churches. 6. The Catholic Church was able to maintain its organizational unity and structures throughout the period of the GDR. The Protestant churches set up, in 1969, the Federation of East German Churches in the GDR or Bund. However, Article 4(4) of the Bund’s Constitution reiterated “the special community of Evangelical Christianity in Germany” (Goeckel 1990a: 79). Moreover, both churches benefited from considerable transfer payments (Volze 1991). 7. Lange (1996) distinguishes two positions toward the institutional order: the Protestant attitude of “conditional acceptance” and the Catholic attitude of “conditional refusal”. 8. It should be noted that Lange (1996) and Conzemius (1998) deal with the Protestant and Catholic churches in the GDR. 9. The epd Dokumentation, where newspaper articles related to churches are reproduced, proved to be a reliable source of information. I also used articles in Evangelische Kommentare, Lutherische Monatshefte, Kirche im Sozialismus, Herder-Korrespondenz; ost-west Informationsdienst; the publications of the churches and their welfare agencies, including Diakonie, Diakonie Jahrbuch, Caritas, and Caritas Jahrbuch; theological journals such as Evangelische Theologie, Zeichen der Zeit; and journals related to specific issues such as Christenlehre and Katholische Blätter. Furthermore, I carefully reviewed the secondary literature. 10. As I have discussed elsewhere, the churches in the former GDR have expanded their activities into the “third sector,” most notably through “Caritas” and “Diakonie,” the confessional welfare agencies (see Thériault 1998). Indeed, the postunification period was marked by the churches’ organizational consolidation and expansion in the field of welfare provisions (Tangemann 1995: 163; Pilvousek 2000: 35). A case could be made that, where continuity existed, there were generally fewer problems.

6 | “Conservative Revolutionaries”

11. In the early 1990s, it was widely believed that, with the socialization of a new generation in the enlarged Federal Republic, patterns of behavior reminiscent of the GDR would wither away. This normative view is shared by proponents of modernization theories of transition.

PART I

THE GENESIS OF CHURCH MODELS

Chapter 1

CHURCH MODELS AS GUIDING METAPHORS AND ORGANIZING PRINCIPLES

 I

n spite of their organizational ties, the German churches were characterized by conflicting interpretations of their public role. East Germans were particularly challenged by the implosion of the GDR and unification through institutional transfer. Paying particular attention to this issue, this study attempts to delineate the conflicting conceptions or models of the churches’ public role and the work carried out by religious agents in molding these conceptions in the 1990s. To put it in a more Weberian manner, it looks at the institutionalization of a legitimate order following radical political change. Drawing on insights from Max Weber’s political and religious sociology, this chapter sets out to reconstruct succinctly the main components of what could be called an institutional frame of analysis. The interplay of these components allows, it is argued, for a reconstruction of the genesis and transformation of a legitimate order such as the German churches’ conception of their public role, and provides us with conceptual tools to shape the narrative of the book. In view of the insights scattered through Weber’s writings, Lepsius argues in various articles (1990b; 1994; 1995b; 1995d; 1997) that Weber can be seen as a theorist of institutionalization. He contends that “The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism” can be read as an attempt at describing such a process: the institutionalization of a Protestant work ethic and the emergence of a (capitalist) order. Lepsius identifies three main dimensions—guiding metaphors (Leitideen), organizing principles (Rationalitätskriterien), and property space (Geltungskontext)—which characterize institutionalization processes (see Table 1.1 below). “Guiding metaphors” are the concrete expressions through which an order Notes for this section begin on page 14.

10 | “Conservative Revolutionaries”

becomes manifest. They shape social action through their normative and binding character. Ecclesiological images such as “Church in socialism,” which was mentioned previously, and, to borrow an example from the “Protestant Ethic,” maxims such as Benjamin Franklin’s “time is money,” can be contemplated as guiding metaphors. These aphorisms are usually vague and rudimentary. Indeed, individuals do not necessarily agree on what guiding metaphors mean and, as a result, may contest them. As Scott remarks, “there may not be consensus within a given society regarding which beliefs are appropriate for what types of activities. Any given activities—the carrying on of productive work, the attempt to govern—can have multiple meanings and can be the focus of conflicting and contradictory institutional definitions and demands” (1987: 500). If Weber’s Puritans generally agree that “time is money,” they must specify when, how, and under which circumstances. Specialist agents such as religious leaders interpret, mediate, and translate these metaphors into “organizing principles.” These principles determine which conduct is rational in a particular context (a “property space”) such as the business enterprise as opposed to the household (Weber 2002 [1904/1905]). There is always a conflict over organizing principles for the definition of a guiding metaphor and the context in which it is binding. Guiding metaphors will have a greater chance of being effective, that is, they will be more likely to guide individual behavior, when their guardians can specify and differentiate their property space from others, and expel, or externalize, rival principles in other spheres. For example, the guardians of the metaphor “time is money” might confer strength (or verhaltensrelevanz) upon it when they can drive out conflicting rationales and problems related to the enforcement of their interpretation, such as unemployment and poverty, to the sphere of social policies.1 The degree to which they can achieve this will have an impact on the degree of legitimacy and institutionalization of an order. Table 1.1

The Dimensions of Institutionalization Processes Guiding metaphor

Organizing principles Externalization of contingencies

Conflict potential between organizing principles Property space

Legitimacy

Source: adapted from Lepsius (1997: 62).

Church Models as Guiding Metaphors and Organizing Principles | 11

In looking at the issue of orders from the angle of legitimacy, Weber stresses the dual relationship between actors and orders. If an order is to exist, individuals must conform to it. But, as Weber points out in the “Protestant Ethic,” individuals convey their behaviors to rules that do not always clearly reflect their eudaemonistic self-interests (Weber 2002 [1904/1905]). This observation is the sinew of Weber’s sociology (Lemert 1995: 103). Late in his life, he put the question simply in his famous lecture “Politics as a Vocation”: “When and why do men obey? Upon what inner justifications and upon what external means does this domination rest?” (Weber 1972: 2, emphasis added). Weber acknowledges that interests and “class interests” play an important role in shaping action, but his contribution is to shed light on the power of ideas.2 In the “Protestant Ethic,” he notoriously explores the complex relationship between ideas and patterns of behavior. The Puritans do not primarily seek gain and the shaping of an economic system, but rather their salvation, the consequence of which being the emergence of capitalism. The premiums placed on the Protestant ethic and the hope of salvation constitute, he argues, a powerful incentive for action. They provide a moral basis for a certain type of economic behavior. This behavior is then reinforced by external means, such as the sanctions of the market. Individuals are compelled to act in a profitable manner to counter the threats of bankruptcy. The emergence and stabilization of a legitimate (i.e., considered to be legitimate) order is thus the twin results of material and ideal rewards and sanctions. Taking Weber’s sociology of religion a step further, Bourdieu introduces the notion of “structured interests” to explain religious actors’ behaviors in shaping a legitimate order. He relates their strategies to their objective positions in the “religious field” (Bourdieu 1987).3 He brings back the priests—the guardians of an established order—and the prophets—their challengers—at the center of his analysis. Of prime interest is the work carried out by specialist agents. In their concrete attempts to control the laity, the priests and the prophets shape a religious order. They do so in trying to monopolize the definition and administration of guiding metaphors, that is, in determining their organizing principles and their property space. This process can be referred to as the “politics of institutionalization,” as a conflicting process for the conservation or subversion of established relations. For, as Bourdieu argues, “religious legitimacy at any given time is nothing other than the state of the specifically religious power relations at that moment; that is, the result of past struggles for the monopoly of the accepted exercise of religious power” (Bourdieu 1987: 127). In times of radical change, as the debates following the consolidation of churches after radical political change attest, these power relations are contested. The challenge of authority and the quest for legitimacy at the heart of the “politics of institutionalization” can command, we argue, particular patterns of strategies on the part of the specialist agents and lead to three ideal typical types of change: innovation, adjustment, and adaptation. The implosion of the GDR and German unification through institutional transfer altered power relations and shook guiding metaphors. Periods of radical

12 | “Conservative Revolutionaries”

change, such as revolutions and wars, are typically characterized by certain strategies. They sometimes command transformation of a far-reaching nature, leading to innovation, the development of new guiding metaphors, and the emergence of new actors. In Weber’s writings (1964 [1922]: 46 ff.), the innovator is to be found in the figure of the prophet, as opposed to the guardians of an order: the priests. The prophet represents the subjugated class and acts as agent moteur of change. The prophet attempts to reformulate guiding metaphors and organizing principles through opposition and critical interventions. His action is based upon conviction that departs from the established order. His status commits him to strategies of opposition to the prevailing order. His intervention is often marked by the moral fervor and the revolutionary disdain of formal procedures characteristic of charismatic activities (Eisenstadt 1968: xix). As Lepsius points out, “Each innovation starts as deviant behavior standing in contradiction to received norms and is, therefore, subject to sanction. The importance of the value that triggers the innovation lies in its double function as legitimization of the deviant behavior.” He continues, “the … deviant feels that his conduct is legitimized in reference to this value. By reference to values, it can also occasionally avert, evade, and delegitimize environmental sanctions on his conduct” (Lepsius 1990b: 38). In contrast to the innovators, the guardians of an established order, as we will see in the treatment of the churches in the GDR and in the aftermath of German unification, can use—or threaten to use—organizational sanctions and rewards to confer strengths to an interpretation of a guiding metaphor. Guiding metaphors will be more likely to guide individual behaviors when their exponents can rely on organizational, material, or symbolic sanctions and can successfully manipulate definitions (DiMaggio 1988: 9; Hirschman 1991). Change can also take the form of adjustment and adaptation. The former points to strategic action, that is, either departing from a guiding metaphor or conspicuously maintaining it (Jepperson 1991; Nedelmann 1995). The latter relates to incremental change associated with long-term institutional evolution. Adaptation “may be the result of the accretion or accumulation of long series of activities of many people in different walks of life in peripheral spheres of society, each of whom takes up something from the tradition he inherits and changes it imperceptibly by living in it and by transmitting it to new generations” (Eisenstadt 1968: xvi-xvii). On the surface, guiding metaphors may seem stable but their interpretations—their contents—differ and, with them, the orders they symbolize. Adaptation is the result of a series of conscious actions, although not the plan of a great mastermind. As Guilhot (2002) points out, this aspect tends to be played down in times of radical political change by social analysts who generally stress innovation and reflexive action. Nevertheless, more recent studies of eastern Germany attest that the “old persists in the new.” Most transformation processes probably occur incrementally through marginal adjustments or adaptation. That said, it is not excluded that small changes eventually have an important effect on a set of institutions and lead to what has been termed “stable change” (Lessenich 2000; also Schelsky 1965 [1949]).

Church Models as Guiding Metaphors and Organizing Principles | 13

Borrowing on the dimensions outlined above, change could be summed up as the conscious or unconscious result of the institutionalization and deinstitutionalization of organizing principles through the work of actors, and the resulting emergence, stabilization, or dissolution of a legitimate order, a process we refer to as the “politics of institutionalization.” The reestablishment of the Protestant and Catholic churches’ unity—or, as some have proposed, their “restoration”— following political unification points to conflict within the churches over guiding metaphors and their related organizing principles. The integration of the East has brought with it conflicts between churches’ guiding metaphors as to how they should be defined. German unification set in motion a process of “institutional reflexivity.” As conflicts over the future model of church-state relations attest, the legitimacy of the transferred order was being questioned. Upon closer inspection, one notices that new conceptions of the churches’ public role have actually emerged and have gradually modified churches’ practices and thinking in Germany as well as the nature of church-state relations. Indeed, changes introduced in the East may reinforce positions already present in the West and, in the long run, affect the validity of guiding metaphors and alter the nature of the model of the churches. As such, the unification of the churches can certainly be viewed as a process of institutionalization. Drawing on conceptual tools such as guiding metaphors and organizing principles, this book examines the genesis of the church models (Part One) and their transformation after the collapse of state socialism and the role of their guardians in bringing it about (Part Two). Of prime importance for the present analysis is the process through which church leaders, clergymen, and lay members consciously attempt to either subvert or maintain guiding metaphors and their related principles to a certain degree and in a certain direction. Special attention will be given to their strategies and patterns of rhetoric as the defenders of an “East German model.” As they become manifest in debates that accompanied the reestablishment of the churches’ unity (as in the case of the pastoral care of soldiers, religious instruction in state schools, and welfare services), these strategies and patterns of rhetoric are the focal point of the analysis. Through the analysis of the debates, this book attempts to outline the churches’ models, that is, what Protestant and Catholic actors reckon to be the “most modern definition of the church and its public role” and to show how they attempt to manipulate definitions to either change or maintain it. The East German communist party put considerable pressure on the churches: it curtailed their public role and discouraged membership. This in turn led to an important redefinition of the churches’ public role. As the genesis of a new church model is to be found in the GDR, the following chapter briefly outlines the institutional order of the former GDR and the emergence and consolidation of church guiding metaphors and organizing principles. Some of the ecclesiological images produced by church leaders in the GDR will be introduced. The comparison between Protestantism and Catholicism allows, on the one hand, an evaluation of the effects of those pressures on a set of organizations and, on the

14 | “Conservative Revolutionaries”

other, isolation of the effects of structures and doctrines on the transformation process of their guiding metaphors. Once the metaphors characteristics of church models are identified, it should be possible to follow their evolution after the collapse of the GDR and German unification.

Notes 1. As we will see, institutionalization processes grow in tandem with a process of social differentiation and externalization. 2. “And the conflict occurs not merely, as we are too easily inclined to believe today, between ‘class interests’ but between general views on life and the universe as well. This latter point, however, does not lessen the truth that the particular ultimate value-judgment which the individual espouses is decided among other factors and certainly to a quite significant degree by the degree of affinity between it and his class interest—accepting for the time being this only superficially unambiguous term” (Weber 1949 [1922]: 56). 3. Bourdieu defines a field as “a system of objective relations between social positions and a place of competition for the specific prize of monopoly as authority defined both as ability and social power” (Bourdieu 1981: 270).

Chapter 2

THE CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT GUIDING METAPHORS IN THE GDR

 W

hat the socialists had not achieved at Weimar, namely the privatization of religion through the separation of church and state and the abolition of church privileges, was to be materialized under the East German state, the GDR. The efforts of the regime to institute a new institutional matrix were deliberately aimed at the development of a “new man” and, as some have argued, a new faith. Yet, the sheer existence of organizations endowed with an autonomous cosmos challenged the regime’s institutional order. Indeed, in an authoritarian society, as the GDR surely was, “the Church becomes [the] modern guardian of cultural integrity as well as of individual psychic space” (Martin 1978: 48). In the German case, the churches also became a unifying national factor through their connections with the West. While the churches and religious actors in the GDR were not completely immune to the measures, ideas, and principles of state socialism, it is contended that they were the principal sources of challenge to the partystate’s authority and monopoly of interpretation. This chapter takes the form of an essay in conceptual history in order to complete a post-mortem assessment of the reactions of the Catholic and Protestant churches to the GDR’s institutional order. With the help of the material now available to us and the conceptual tools developed in the previous chapter, I set out to retrace the churches’ guiding metaphors, their organizing principles, and their property space.1 Furthermore, I shall look into the conflicts that arose between guiding metaphors over organizing principles. It is axiomatic to this undertaking to start with an overview of the way things stood in the GDR for evaluating change that occurred in the 1980s and, more importantly, the Notes for this section begin on page 41.

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challenges brought about by the collapse of the institutional order. In order to follow the incremental evolution of guiding metaphors over time, I shall present an analytical definition from the outset. In doing so, I will expose the strategies put forward by the state and the church leadership. In this endeavor, the period following the consolidation of the GDR, which was marked by the erection of the Berlin Wall, will mainly—though not exclusively—retain my attention. Before examining the churches and their guiding metaphors, the institutional order of the GDR and its treatment of religion should be exposed.

The “Center” and its Institutional Order In his article, “Die Institutionenordnung als Rahmenbedingung der Sozialgeschichte der DDR” (1994), Lepsius points out that the GDR was characterized by the centralization and deinstitutionalization of society, i.e., the fusion of all institutions and the monopolization of decisions and resources, which were achieved through the Socialist Unity Party (SED) and legitimated by a particular philosophy of history, Marxism-Leninism (Arnason 2000: 72). The policy of the “center,” to paraphrase Milosz’s (1990 [1951]) description of the East European socialist parties, entailed an all-encompassing claim to power. In the GDR, the party sought to embody all organizations and, therefore, can accurately be described as a “party-state.” The SED was not only the carrier of some organizations, it claimed to incorporate them all—Pollack, incidentally, refers to the GDR as an Organisationsgesellschaft (1991; 1994a). The party-state, under the leadership of its professional revolutionaries, personified the “people” as mirrored in the principle of democratic centralism and the party’s monopoly.2 Because the state in socialism represented the interests of the people, there could be no conflicts, no antagonism, indeed no distinction between state and society. There was, therefore, no need for mediation and such things as an independent constitutional court (De Nike 1994: 50; N.N. 1968: 1), associations, or public arenas of citizen discourse. The SED’s political rationale, state socialism, presided over all other considerations, thus disregarding economic or legal ones.3 At the “real existing” level, the SED supported and promoted its power position through propaganda, political liturgies (Ellul 1990), sanctions such as brutal repression—or the threat of repression and imprisonment—but also rewards—or the promise of rewards—bribes and honors (Beier 1997). While the first Constitution of the GDR (1949) included liberal elements and drew extensively on the Constitution of the Weimar Republic,4 the second “socialist” Constitution (1968/1974) eliminated most basic rights and other liberal elements. Deprived of genuine legal and electoral sanctions, the formal and the informal, discretionary powers and unobtrusive controls always coexisted. Overt violence, however, was euphemized and “panoptical means” such as infiltration, observation, and self-monitoring were privileged over Soviet-style repression with the passage of time (Thériault 1996). The sanctions were combined with rewards, a

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“caring” social policy that conferred legitimacy to the regime.5 The legitimacy of the center remained widely uncontested as the result of carrot-and-stick policies. The center also strengthened its power position through “externalization.” The building of the Berlin Wall in 1961—the “antifascist protection wall,” as it was generally called within the SED—operated as both a retention block and an escape valve: the bulk of the population was confined to the territory of the Democratic Republic while disgruntled elements were literally externalized, i.e., expelled to the Federal Republic. From this perspective, Albert O. Hirschman (1993) compellingly argues that this practice impeded the fostering of dissenting voices in the GDR. Table 2.1

Synoptic Figure of the Institutional Order of the GDR Socialism (Marxism-Leninism)

“Democratic Centralism” Externalization through expulsion of dissonant voices

No official conflict (between church and state) State & society Das “Eine”

Legitimacy (degree of) sets of sanction and reward

The Treatment of Religion … The SED attempted to encompass all organizations under its aegis. However, this endeavor was not complete, religion and its carriers being an exception. As the regime rejected religion, it could not, in theory, influence or incorporate its content (Lepsius 1994: 19). As a result, the Protestant and Roman Catholic churches were the only organizations to enjoy any degree of internal autonomy. Religion was a perpetual source of quandary for the party-state. Because the party-state proclaimed itself from “reason” (Michel 1990: 118), religion could not officially be accounted for; yet, religion was unremittingly considered an affair of state. According to the SED’s official media coverage, religion and its organizational forms were remnants of a bourgeois past. It was supposed gradually to wither away as the ideals of the communist society drew nearer. And yet religion was the

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subject of particular attention on the part of the politburo’s central comity, the country’s chief organ of decision.6 As the politburo had purged itself and leveled social life, the churches were the only organizations that could use—or threaten to use—cognitive dissonance as well as contacts abroad to jeopardize the partystate’s omnipotence. With the exception of a period of major repression that reached its paroxysm in 1953 (Goeckel 1990a; Pollack 1994a), three types of strategies were advanced by the party-state to accelerate religion’s demise. First, the SED attempted to curtail the churches’ influence through bureaucratic harassment and discrimination against Christians. Secondly, it countered church practices and principles by the superimposition of socialist ones. Thirdly, it infiltrated Christian organizations and submitted Christians to constant monitoring.7 The functionaries of the SED may have believed that religion would gradually die out, but they also intended to hasten the process. Secularization was to be promoted while churches’ influence and public claim—their so-called Öffentlichkeitsanspruch—were curtailed and their activities limited to the parish. In the wake of the “democratization of the German school,” systematic bureaucratic harassment gradually removed the churches from the education system by their own “free will” (see Chapter V for an account). Similarly, the churches were forced out of state agencies (kindergartens, prisons, and army). They were allowed, however, to continue some of their social welfare activities—in the 1980s, these activities still accounted for between seven and ten percent of all social services in the GDR (Weiß 1990: 557; Anheier and Priller 1991: 95; Tangemann 1995: 161), a unique situation in eastern and central Europe.8 A limited number of church newspapers were authorized, although they were censored, and, later, radio time was granted. Similarly, the Christian Democratic Union (CDU-East) on the territory of the GDR was authorized, although it had little real power. Faculties of Protestant Theology at state universities existed along with independent seminaries.9 In the spirit of the Weimar Constitution, laws to abolish state subsidies were to be passed, but this project was never fulfilled. Although subject to arbitrary rule, the churches could therefore rely on public monies.10 Compared to their East European counterparts, the German churches still enjoyed, at least in principle, many privileges. They were, however, subject to severe bureaucratic measures. Freedom of worship and conscience as well as the parents’ right in the upbringing of children were also guaranteed in the constitution, but remained mostly ornamental as Christians were discriminated against within state agencies (schools, army, and the workplace).11 Another strategy pursued by the center involved the introduction of parallel activities, which overlapped on churches’ rituals and principles. Thus, it was hoped that religious practice would be delegitimized and, in turn, deinstitutionalized. Secular rites such as the socialist ceremony of name giving, socialist weddings and burials and, above all, the Jugendweihe, a civil youth consecration ceremony and ersatz rite of church confirmation, were introduced or reintroduced (Richter 1987: 169).12 Organizations were also established to compete with church-related ones; the Free German Youth (FDJ), a youth organization;

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the “Volkssolidarität,” a charity; and the “Union der Freidenker,” a freethinkers’ organization are worth mentioning.13 Furthermore, the party-state sought to appropriate church content as testimony to a national past and as support of its international propaganda (as with the peace movement). For instance, in 1983 the state worked in collaboration with the churches to organize the Luther celebrations (see Beck 1989; Goeckel 1990a).14 On other occasions, for example Ulbricht’s famous 1960 speech on the humanistic concerns of socialism, attempts were made to link Christian and socialist ideals (Goeckel 1990a: 58). Paul Wandel, a member of the Politburo, had already commented in 1955: “Our principal task is therefore to win over the support of these millions of workers despite and without abandoning their religious ties, and indeed not to offend their religious feelings, and to win them over to the goals of peace, democracy and socialism” (quoted in Conway 1994: 727). The party-state also attempted to influence churches as well as their related organizations and milieus through “panoptical means” such as infiltration, observation, and self-monitoring. A special section of the Ministry of State Security, the secret police, was established to maintain tight control over the churches and strengthen the position of “progressive elements” for wielding influence on decision making (see Besier and Wolf 1992; Conway 1994). The state Secretariat of Church Affairs, with delegates at all levels of government, was also instituted to deal with Protestant and Catholic Church officials, although the Protestant churches were the main state targets (Goeckel 1990b). This system was centralized, personalized, and subject to arbitrary rule. Church and political officials knew each other. Through contacts, the officials of the Secretariat of Church Affairs hoped to gain the support of sympathetic church members for their cause and use them as domesticator of dissenting voices, as an instrument “of police regulation of the faithful and of competing cults” (Zylberberg 1990: 92; see also Goeckel 1990a: 249). As a result, the real or internalized pressure on the churches generally led, according to Neubert (2000: 386), to the “reflex to retreat from society” while the policy of the “secretariat” brought about a centralization of church structures in dealing with the state. … And its Implications for the Churches The reform of the education system, the creation of secular youth organizations (FDJ), and the introduction of the Jugendweihe were certainly instrumental in limiting the churches’ capacity for reproduction and influence on large segments of the population. In his comments in the 1950s on communist societies, Milosz remarked, “The ‘new man’ is not merely a postulate. He is beginning to become reality” (1990 [1951]: 77). The Protestant churches’ membership dropped from 81 percent of the population at the outset of the GDR to 25 percent at its demise. Catholics were also affected, albeit to a lesser degree. Their membership was already very low in the land of the Reformation. Accordingly, the nonconfessional population rose from 7.6 percent of the population in 1949 to 70 percent in 1990 (Pollack 1994a: 373). Membership decline coincides with periods

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of major political repression, notably the confrontational period toward student parishes in the early 1950s and especially with the institution of the Jugendweihe (see Pollack 1994b: 276). State harassment and general discrimination contained church influence and severely affected church membership levels and practices; yet, it could never completely curtail the churches’ influence. Indeed, it did not prevent the emergence of competing rationales and church organizational structures to serve as their “foyers d’irradiation” (Zylberberg 1986). The separation of church and state as laid down in the Weimar Constitution was institutionalized by the SED and then reinforced in the “socialist” Constitution of 1968. In contrast with their attitudes during the Weimar Republic, the churches no longer aspired to be compulsory organizations (Wittekind 1999). State socialism conflated with the division of Germany and the membership loss compelled them to reconsider their situation and role in the new context. To be sure, the churches in the GDR were highly reflexive, constantly brooding over their position and way to deal with the prevailing situation—as repeatedly expressed in the formula the “church as a learning community” or Kirche als Lerngemeinschaft (BEK/DDR 1981). In the end, they acknowledged the separation of church and state and the principle of religious freedom. According to Peter L. Berger (1992: 41), once religion is disestablished, two ideal and typical options are available to religious actors: “cognitive bargaining”—or in its more acute form “cognitive surrender”—and “cognitive retrenchment.” Cognitive retrenchment finds expression in its positive form as “reconquest,” in its negative form as a “ghetto.”15 It has been argued that religious actors have, within the constraints of the institutional order, options that are determined by the nature or the model of society held to be relevant (see Casanova 1994: 73), that is, not solely molded by a particular type of authoritarian regime or religious doctrine. In this context, Casanova stresses the importance of central actors, especially the church leadership. He points out: “The character and personality of the individual at the top of the hierarchy, the Primate, plays an extraordinary role in setting the tone, as well as the direction, of the church’s policies” (1994: 108). Next to factors such as the size of the two organizations and the possible connection to an outside authority, it is argued that the choices made by relevant religious actors also account for the conspicuously different guiding metaphors and organizing principles that characterized the Catholic and Protestant churches in the GDR.

“In the Bosom of the New Faith” The Churches’ Guiding Metaphors and Principles In spite of pressures from the center, the churches’ relative organizational and internal religious autonomy enabled their leadership to develop powerful guiding metaphors which found their expression in ecclesiological images. These guiding metaphors were shaped by the institutional order of the GDR and, consequent-

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ly, differed from those promoted by their sister organizations in the West, notably in the way they viewed the state and their role in society.16 These guiding metaphors were communicated by the church leadership and other prominent figures and translated into a series of organizing principles or activity scripts. Through those principles, religious organizations could promote a socialization that competed with that of the state and could act as regulators of their members’ thoughts and actions (Berger 1973 [1967]: 139). As Graf points out, “in spite of all the limitations to its sphere of action, the Evangelical church in the GDR remained an autonomous center of socialization” (1994a: 303). The same can be said of the Catholic Church, as suggested in pronouncements by its bishops: “The hammer and the sickle are not the sign of the salvation; the cross is” (“Nicht Hammer und Sichel sind das Zeichen des Heils, sondern das Kreuz”); “not to follow another star but that of Bethlehem” (“kein anderer Sterne folgen als dem von Bethlehem”);17 and in the comparison of the church’s social welfare facilities to “islands in the Red See” (“Inseln im Rotem Meer”) (Jostmeier 1996: 177)—a recurrent image in the bishops’ discourses. Church leadership in the GDR used several guiding metaphors, materialized in a series of organizing principles and calls to action which met with varying degrees of conformity from their members. The vague and malleable nature of some metaphorical expressions made them extremely powerful. They were indeed prone to multiple interpretations on the part of both the state and the church. As Rehberg observes, “guiding metaphors [Leitideen] are continuously being redefined. They legitimize the action of groups within an institution in a distinct manner. They are often quite powerful when they remain vague and subject to different interpretations” (Rehberg 1994: 68). An analysis of various Protestant “words” and Catholic “pastoral letters” from the church leadership in the GDR confirms this and calls to mind Milosz’s comparison of some East European intellectuals and Ketmans, individuals who hide their true beliefs using certain cognitive procedures (see Milosz 1990 [1951]: 54-81). As Patrick Michel remarks in reference to religious organizations, “these misunderstandings [concerning church rhetoric] are, all things considered, necessary. Religious language has characteristically great polysemy; more than any other, it is capable to say [sic] what it does not say at all. The more the need to clarify these misunderstandings grows, the more the influence of the church, as an administrative institution [organization] of bonding and autonomy and as a self-proclaimed depository of religious legitimacy, will be weak” (1994: 123).

The Catholic Church’s “Political Abstinence” The Catholic Church in the territories of the new federal states has been a minority church since the foundation of the first German national state (Langewiesche 1999: 304).18 Both with respect to the low proportion of the population that is Catholic and to state-sponsored atheism and materialism, metaphors such as

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“the Church in the Diaspora” were common. Other images such as Spülbeck’s “the stranger’s house” (“fremdes Haus”),19 Weskamm’s “nursery in the North” (“Gärtnerei im Norden”),20 and, at a later stage, “the Church in a secularized and materialistic society” (“die Kirche in der säkularisierten und materialistischen Gesellschaft”) (Wanke 1992: 13) conveyed the episcopate’s political stance toward the ideology in the East German context and shaped its organizational responses and strategies toward the state. They reflected the church’s aversion to state socialism and reiterated the principle of noninterference with the state. The bishops refused to engage in talks with an “illegitimate state” which it saw as dominated by a party proclaiming a “monopoly of truth,” an atheist and materialist ideology which left no place for religious argumentation.21 Unlike Catholicism in other hostile, minority situations, such as Northern Ireland, or authoritarian regimes in some Latin American countries, Catholics in East Germany did not use the universalist aspect of their church’s ideology to translate it into universal rights; neither did a propensity to martyrdom drive any of them to heroic actions (Dillon 1997: 161; Martin 1978: 24-25). Instead, an attitude of “cognitive entrenchment” (Berger 1992: 41), combined with tight control over membership, marked the attitude of the episcopacy in the first decades of the GDR. Incidentally, a number of the addresses and documents released by the bishops (see Pilvousek 1994: 138 and 457, 1998b; Lange et al. 1993: 346; 1996) dealt with how priests should deal with state authorities.22 The Döpfner Decree of 26 November 1957 (reproduced in Lange et al. 1993: 113114), named after the bishop who had enacted it, forbade clerics from participating in political activity.23 Moreover, according to its principle of noninterference, the church rejected financial support from the SED-controlled state, with the exception of its social welfare organizations.24 The parochial and organizational structures characteristic of a people’s church (Volkskirche) were nonetheless maintained due to substantial western aid.25 This financial support enabled the church to build structures outside the realm of the state, such as those dedicated to parish religious instruction and the training of priests at an independent seminary in Erfurt. Bengsch’s Institutional Project Under the auspices of Bishop Bengsch of Berlin, the president of the East German Bishops’ Conference and later cardinal, the small Catholic Church notoriously refused to engage in official dialogue with the state. Bengsch followed in the footsteps of his predecessors and promoted the hard line of “political abstinence” that was maintained by the whole episcopate. The attitude is epitomized in the metaphor of the “Christian in the lions’ cage”: “He [the Christian] will neither stroke the lion nor pull its tail” (quoted in Pilvousek 1999). Through this principle, the organizational unity was preserved and, with it, the nonrecognition of the GDR. Bengsch’s attitude and long rule as head of the Catholic hierarchy in the GDR (1961-1979) was marked, against the backdrop of the Second Vatican Council and the opening of the church in West Germany, by theological

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conservatism (Goeckel 1990a). The bishop of Berlin notably pronounced against the pastoral constitution of the church in the modern world Gaudium et spes and in favor of the papal encyclical Humanae vitae (see the pastoral letter from 10 September 1968, in Fischer 1998: 16 and Schumacher 1998: 81-87). Gaudium et spes, which was meant as a greater openness between the Vatican and its churches and state authorities, society, and the modern world as a whole, could not be reconciled with the guidelines endorsed by Bengsch in the GDR.26 There were other, different views such as those of Bishop Spülbeck of Meißen, who acknowledged the laity’s desire to open a dialogue with the rest of society (see Grütz 2002). Conflict, however, was avoided due to Bengsch’s firm hand and his plea for the “paramount need for unity” (the so-called Geschlossenheit). As a consequence, the Second Vatican Council was only dealt with in parts of the GDR. The recommendations of the Synod of the Diocese of Meißen in 19691971 and the Dresden Pastoral Synod in 1973-1975 on the Second Vatican Council were adroitly smothered. The personality of the bishop of Berlin and the principles he advocated set the tone of the Catholic Church’s activities on the territory of the GDR. The situation was similar to that in Poland, where one could claim that “due to the extreme hierarchic centralization of the Polish church, the kind of open internal conflicts, indeed, the hegemonic struggles between the various groups and tendencies within the episcopate never develop fully nor manifest themselves publicly” (Casanova 1994: 108; see also Schäfer 1999: 279). Thanks to this line of Geschlossenheit, the dioceses could be maintained, which in turn allowed for the nonrecognition of the GDR and a form of confrontation. THE UPHOLDING OF ORGANIZATIONAL UNITY AND THE NONRECOGNITION OF THE GDR It was doubtless difficult for the SED to “nationalize” a universal church such as the Catholic Church. One of Bengsch’s great achievements was that the German Catholic Church could maintain its organizational unity. However, maintaining the integrity of the dioceses required modifications. In most dioceses, the bishop’s seat was in West Germany. It was therefore necessary to create Bishop’s offices in Schwerin, Magdeburg, Erfurt, and Görlitz. The diocese of Berlin remained intact and under the authority of Bengsch. The bishops’ offices were placed under the direct control of the pope (Höllen 1989). The changes were accompanied by a fusion of the remaining Catholic organizations, the centralization of authority in Berlin, and a strengthening of church ties to the Vatican. Paradigmatically, bishops in the GDR never referred to their church as the “Catholic Church in the GDR.” Instead, one alternatively used the expression “the church on the territory of the GDR” or “the church on the territory of the Berlin Bishops’ Conference.”27 Throughout the years of the socialist regime, the Catholic Church in East Germany worked to cultivate contacts with the West as a 1963 memorandum to the West German bishops shows. In the document reported on by Schäfer (1999), Bengsch firmly declared:

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The “Church in the East [can] only subsist with the support of the West”. He [Bengsch] attributed a “destructive effect” and a “common loss of understanding” to the construction of the Wall. From his western counterpart, Bengsch expected economic support as a means to finance pastoral care in the GDR. As the government in East Berlin was aware of the West German transfer to the church, this is similarly “a sign of the concrete will of the church to uphold unity.” Bengsch also required that his western counterparts “refrain from imposing any political burden through inconsiderate press reviews and speeches” as well as “no internal reports on the life of the church” and “no excessive demands on the church (for example, on the Oder-Neisse boundary) or tactical errors of judgment.”

Competing interests occasionally marked the unity sought by the Bishop of Berlin. The East German episcopate did not always receive the backing of the Vatican, nor, for that matter, that of the West German episcopate (Schäfer 1999: 234). With the Vatican’s Ostpolitik, Pope Paul VI, and his secretary Casaroli, opened dialogue with the East European governments. They seemed to favor changes to the church’s borders, which implied splitting dioceses whose territories were in both East and West Germany. Bengsch insisted that the Vatican back his line. He had already made this point clear in a 1965 letter: “While many demands for political commitment from the church had been withdrawn on the assumption that the Vatican was behind the bishops’ abstinent attitude; it was now possible to pressure the bishops by referring to the council and the Pope” (letter to Döpfner quoted in Pilvousek 1999: 11). The issue of the diocese reorganization sank into oblivion after Paul VI’s sudden death in 1978 and with the new accents in the Vatican’s Ostpolitik under John Paul II (see Hummel 1999). In the end, the Holy See never recognized the GDR as state. THE CONFLICT OVER THE “JUGENDWEIHE” The church’s determination not to take a position on current affairs did not preclude the episcopate voicing its concern through pastoral letters when the constitutionally enshrined freedom of faith and conscience as well as the rights of parents and guardians were violated.28 Its attention was focused mainly on the field of education (discrimination against Christians in schools) and the Jugendweihe, the socialist civil consecration. The Jugendweihe is the issue that irked the bishops the most. Introduced in 1954, this celebration was designed to mark the passage from childhood to adulthood. The ceremony, which included an oath of loyalty to the socialist order, was in direct competition with Christian confirmation. Though the ceremony was supposedly voluntary, those who did not take part in it were subject to discrimination at school and were often denied access to university. The pledge of loyalty to socialism proved a real snag for churches, especially the Catholic Church. Participation in youth organizations was bad enough, but the clergy found the commitment to socialism—and the double loyalty it implied—intolerable. The church hierarchy took measures to discourage participation in the socialist ceremony and to encourage those who had undergone the ceremony to revoke it.29 Indeed, “the absolution of such sins simply through confession cannot occur so easily” (Pilvousek 1994: 23). Anyone

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failing to revoke their commitment was denied access to the sacraments. Children who had participated in the Jugendweihe ceremony were expected to sign a document stating that they regretted this action and retracted their pledge of loyalty to the state’s ideology. Parents also had to take responsibility for their children’s decisions, and were obliged to sign the same document. As a barrier to state ideology, the central role of the family was reiterated by the church leadership in its battle against socialist education (see Lange et al. 1993: 73 ff.). Structures were also created in parishes to provide religious instruction to children and introduce them to parish life.30 The Jugendweihe was contested by the episcopate until the end of the GDR as violating freedom of worship and conscience as enshrined in the constitution. However, the bishops’ appeal for human rights was selective.31 The Jugendweihe may have provoked pastoral letters concerning the rights of parents and guardians and discrimination against Christians in schools, but the introduction of compulsory military service, which included swearing an oath of allegiance to the East German flag (Fahneneid), received scant attention (see the letter from 6 February, 1962 in Lange et al. 1993: 193; Haese 1994b). The episcopate’s silence on this issue was a source of discontent among young clergymen and students who first started to challenge Bengsch. Critics argued that, in this case, “political abstinence” amounted to loyalty to the state. Arguing that the Fahneneid was not an ideological oath, the church hierarchy upheld its position. The Fahneneid, it was argued, was not in fact a pledge to socialism, but one to international law and was, therefore, not immediately related to the church’s primary responsibility of pastoral care to its parishioners (see document reproduced in Lange et al. 1993: 193; Schäfer 1999: 238 ff.). As a result, compulsory military service was criticized as contrary neither to the freedom of conscience nor to the ethics of peace. The “BOK [the eastern church leadership] thereby followed the traditional international positions of the Catholic Church of legitimizing mandatory military service and justifying it morally as a civic obligation through the theory of the ‘just war’” (Schäfer 1999: 238). CARITAS AND THE EXTERNALIZATION OF CONSEQUENCES Bengsch may have urged “political abstinence,” but this did not mean that the Catholic Church did not engage in forms of cooperation with the state and society (Haese 1996; 1998).32 The principle of noninterference was notably skirted, “externalized” in other institutional fields. As Lepsius stated, “the institutionalization of organizing principles aims to control all conditions of action within an applicable social space. Any related consequences are externalized to other social spheres where they are perceived and arranged according to other organizing principles” (1990a: 47). Through the directors of “Caritas,” the church’s welfare agency, and the employees of the agency’s central office in Berlin, the church undertook some negotiations with the regime. The agency provided for the acquisition of buildings as well as diverse material for churches and their related organizations, but also the release of political prisoners, the financing of religious

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instruction, and, perhaps more importantly, the preservation of contacts with the West.33 Caritas remained united despite the division of the country. The subsidiary agency proved to be more pragmatic than its mother organization. At this level, contacts with “Diakonie,” the Protestant welfare agency, were also established. This social welfare agency presented the church with alternative strategies and assured the church a social presence that allowed it to undertake negotiations with state authorities.34 Shift in Interpretations during the 1980s After Bengsch’s death, perceptible changes were noticeable within the episcopate (Thériault 2000a). Joachim Wanke, bishop of Erfurt, heralded a new interpretation. Wanke openly supported greater Catholic participation in society in a 1981 lecture entitled “Der Weg der Kirche in unserem Raum. Versuch einer pastoralen Standortbestimmung” (The Way of the Church in Our Space. Attempt at a Pastoral Definition of the Situation). In a society driven by materialism, the church, he noted, must perform a dienendes Zeugnis (commitment to serve) (Wanke 1992: 28) —an expression that echoes Protestant discourse. As did the late bishop of Berlin, Wanke took great pains to emphasize that he sought neither to identify with the GDR nor to recognize the political regime, but rather to come to some understanding on the duty of Catholics in, as he thoughtfully put it, “Middle Germany.”35 In clear opposition to his Protestant counterparts and their motto “Church in socialism,” his stance was that ideology should not define the Catholic Church as should the secular, materialistic environment in which it evolved. He reiterated the Catholic Church’s nonrecognition of the state’s ideology, but stressed its own social commitment in East Germany.36 In brief, while following Bengsch’s line of reasoning, Wanke also appears to advocate a reinterpretation of his predecessor’s stance. This emerging situation marked a shift from the path of “political abstinence.” Pilvousek argues that the church over time became the “Catholic Church in the GDR.” This was particularly noticeable in the pastoral domain: “one didn’t identify with the SED-rule but with the country in which one lived” (1999: 9). With the passing of time, Bengsch’s line eroded as a growing number of bishops, clergymen, and laypeople challenged it. As a result, Catholics became increasingly involved in the movement emerging in the Protestant churches in the late 1980s. In 1987, Catholics organized, for the first time in GDR’s history, a Catholic convention (Katholikentreffen) in Dresden. Schäfer comments, “the 1987 Dresden Catholic convention had shattered the increasingly fragile foundation of the Catholic Church’s strategy of public abstinence” (1994: 668). In 1988 and 1989 the Catholic Church participated in the “Conciliar Process on Justice, Peace and the Integrity of Creation” (Bizeul 1993; Seifert 2000). This new cooperation between the Catholic and Protestant churches was something that the diverging strategies of these two organizations had until then prevented. The new bishops had acknowledged the laity’s desire for some dialogue with the rest of society—a wish already expressed by the laity at the Dresden Pastoral Synod. Nevertheless,

The Catholic and Protestant Guiding Metaphors in the GDR | 27

modifications to internal structures were not undertaken (see Schäfer 1999: 426). Given the unexpected implosion of the East German state, it remains somewhat uncertain whether the episcopate and the laity would have engaged in a wider public debate. Nevertheless, internal change was evident, manifest in the erosion of the episcopate’s unity (Geschlossenheit) through the publication of a pastoral letter by Bishop Johannes Braun of Magdeburg on 20 September 1989 (reproduced in Pilvousek 1998b: 517-520) and in the increased agitation within the Bishops’ Conference and the laity. The Catholic Laity The principle of abstinence was mirrored in the church’s organizational structure and on an individual level by withdrawal. As a whole, the Catholic Church gave the impression of withdrawing behind the barricades of religious life through participation in the liturgy, the family apostate, pilgrimages, and charitable activity (Conzemius 1998: 55). Parishes established structures to compensate for their lack of presence in state agencies (such as religious instruction, children’s and youth groups, chaplaincy, and other structures such as a “church tax”). According to Krause (1993), the situation of Catholics in the GDR was characterized by worship and community-based activities centered on the priest. For the most part, Catholics did not challenge the authority of the clergy (see Henry Krause 1999), and the principle of “political abstinence” was upheld until the 1980s. At that time, student parishes (Straube 1996) and other groups, such as the “Aktionskreis Halle” (AKH), became active, even if they remained on the whole marginal. To be sure, not all Catholics in the GDR had been withdrawn and cautious. However, the church hierarchy was effective in restraining them. Catholics did not generally enter the political sphere. The participation in the CDU-East was minimal. As Bernd Schäfer comments, “the CDU had only maintained a degree of sympathy among some Catholic clergy and laymen on a local level and in some regions, such as parts of the Eichsfeld or the Sorbian Lausitz” (1995: 111; see also Schmidt 1997).37 In short, it seems that Catholics built close-knit communities in specific enclaves (for example, in the Eichsfeld, the Rhön, and the Sorbian region around Bautzen). The situation proved to be more difficult in the countryside (Schmidt 1997). For this reason, the bishops encouraged the faithful to live among themselves, which usually meant in towns.38 Although there was a great shift in population toward the FRG before the construction of the Berlin Wall, the Catholic population remained relatively stable throughout the thirty following years (see Table 2.2 on p. 39). It has been argued that the Catholic Church was particularly affected by the pre-Berlin Wall population movement to the FRG (N.N. 1949). Pilvousek (1993) contends that many of the displaced people who had first swelled the ranks of the Catholic Church in the Soviet Occupation Zone/GDR following the expulsions from former German territories after World War II had never intended to settle there. The membership also declined after a church tax was introduced following German unification. There were, however, fewer decreases in Catholic Church

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membership (and also fewer increases) than in the Protestant churches (Pollack 2000: 25-26). Catholic Church attendance was also higher compared to that of their fellow Protestant Christians, but declined over time. Weekly church attendance was reported to be 23.2 percent of membership in 1989 compared with 30.2 percent in 1950 (Pollack 1998: 236). The Bishops’ Conference blamed the decline in church attendance on state measures and a general trend toward secularization (KNA-Dokumentation 30 August 1975). Interestingly, Pollack observes that there was little divergence in the rates of church observance by Catholics in the East and their brethren in the West (1998: 210). However, the little research available (Beck 1994) points to a more fervent and involved community in the new federal states.39 Table 2.2

Church Membership in the Catholic Church in the GDR/New Federal States 1945 1949 1953 1965 1974 1988 1990

1 081 400 2 772 500 1 904 500 1 361 090 1 283 066 1 001 600 962 000

Sources: “Statistik über die Ostzone vom 20.04.1949,” Studienstelle der BBK, KNA-Dokumentation 30.08.75 (available at the “Seminar für Zeitgeschichte,” Erfurt). See also Pilvousek (1993: 56; 1998a). • These statistics are based on church statistics. They are approximate and may be inflated. A few remarks can summarize the principle followed by the Catholic Church and its consequences. Following Bengsch’s death in the 1980s, a few bishops sought to reinterpret the church’s line and laypeople started to speak out. Until then, the line of “political abstinence” was institutionalized, it was argued, in order to allow the church to maintain its spiritual and pastoral duties. The episcopate cultivated little contact with state authorities, and by extension, society, beyond what could be termed “quiet diplomacy.” The hard line promoted by the episcopate was upheld due to the concentration of power within the church structure and, most importantly, Bengsch’s own personality. In addition, the existence of a single seminary for the priesthood proved instrumental in maintaining intellectual unity. This approach to state socialism had repercussions on the laity, the status of parishes, and the family as the core of Catholic life. Catholicism in the East is best described as “vestry Catholicism” since unlike Catholicism in the West, it did not have a wide network of associations (Breitmeier 2000: 120),40 a notable exception being that of Caritas, the church’s welfare agency. Through it, the Catholic Church demonstrated a more pragmatic approach to the state and society. Finally, it is important to stress that existing diocesan borders remained

The Catholic and Protestant Guiding Metaphors in the GDR | 29

intact, and links to the Vatican were strengthened in spite of pressure exerted by the SED. Serious East-West dialogue may not have taken place in the dioceses, but their common structures were preserved. It was as if time had been suspended and the Catholic Church “on the territory of the GDR” looks retrospectively like a church of which the guiding metaphor could be described as a “people’s church on hold” (“Volkskirche im Wartestand”) (Blandow and Tangemann 1992: 95; Thériault 1998).41 Table 2.3

The Catholic Church in the GDR (“People’s church on hold”)

political abstinence unity (Geschlossenheit) Externalization *Caritas

Conflict between church and state *Jugendweihe Parish “diaspora”

conformity

The Protestant “Church in Socialism” A Malleable Metaphor Compared to their Catholic counterpart, the Protestant churches maintained mixed relations with the party-state. The church leadership as well as some prominent figures in the GDR used several guiding metaphors, which materialized in a series of organizing principles and calls to action to which their members conformed. Albrecht Schönherr, the bishop of Berlin and head of the federation of East German churches,42 drew on a speech by Hans Seigewasser— a former state secretary of church affairs—to coin the memorable motto, the “Church in socialism.” At the synod of East German churches in Eisenach in 1971, the bishop stated, “A witness and service community of churches in the GDR will have to carefully consider its place. In this given society, not separated from it, nor in opposition to it” (translated in Goeckel 1990a: 173).43 This statement, though open to conflicting interpretations, was programmatic for the Protestant churches in the GDR. The state secretary of church affairs welcomed it as a gesture in support of socialism. The motto was brandished by the state and segments within the church and, depending on the context, used to express an

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attitude of either accommodation or opposition. Its malleable content proved to be its strength. Over the years, the formula was discussed endlessly within the Protestant churches. Nevertheless, it was never seriously questioned until Werner Leich and Richard Schröder voiced their criticism in the late 1980s. Officially, however, it was not rejected by church leadership until the spring of 1989. After Schönherr’s initial interpretation, variations of the formula “Church in socialism” were pronounced (see Goeckel 1990a; Pollack 1994a). Associated with different interpretations, they represented diverging organizing principles. Bishops Mitzenheim and Bräcklein of Thuringia stressed the separation of the two Kingdoms. They may not have pronounced themselves openly in favor of socialism, but they did claim that the state was a God-given “force of order” (Goeckel 1990a: 174), an attitude that amounted to a tacit acceptance of state socialism.44 Werner Krusche, and particularly his protégé Heino Falcke, advocated for socialism but were critical, as coined in the expression “critical solidarity” and the notion of “improvable socialism” or verbesserlicher Sozialismus (see document reproduced in Demke, Falkenau, and Helmut 1995: 14-32). The formula, a “Church for others” was rooted in an interpretation of Bonhoeffer’s work, which was advanced especially by Bishop Rathke of Mecklenburg. In this interpretation, the church should play the role of social proxy by being open for all who had fallen out of the system. Indeed, “at the beginning of his term of office in 1971, Bishop Heinrich Rathke criticized the formula of the ‘Church in socialism’ at the synod of the Evangelical Church in the GDR (BEK) at Eisenach and raised, in Tucholsky’s words, the danger of a ‘Church in opportunism.’ Instead, he proposed to consider the church in the GDR as a ‘church for others’” (Bizeul 1998: 248). Lastly, another bishop, Hans-Joachim Fränkel of Görlitz, as the result of his experience under Hitler, pronounced himself in favor of a “guardian office.” The church in the GDR is, he wrote, “consciously a church in socialism, though not one under it nor in its spirit” (quoted in Jüngel 1993: 7). He “defended a God-given role of the church as guardian against abuse of power” (Goeckel 1990a: 175). Monsma and Soper (1997: 162) similarly suggest that “one [of the lessons from the Third Reich] is that the church often courts enormous danger when it is too subservient to the state.” Such conceptions all bear kinship to Schönherr’s motto, but are perhaps more socially critical (Goeckel 1990b: 175). Conflict between Organizing Principles The Protestants described their attitude toward the state and society as a delicate “tightrope walk between accommodation and opposition” (“Gratwanderung zwischen Anpassung und Widerstand”) (Pollack 1994a: 166).45 This expression reflects the ambiguous position of the Protestant Church in the GDR, a position characterized neither by accommodation nor by opposition. Such ambiguity is closely associated with the problem of distinguishing between state and society in the institutional order promoted by the center. With the exception of a period when both the Catholic and Protestant churches pursued a similar strategy at the outset of the GDR, most Protestant bishops soon demonstrated what could be

The Catholic and Protestant Guiding Metaphors in the GDR | 31

described as an attitude of “accommodation” or, in the words of Peter L. Berger (1992: 41), “cognitive bargaining” toward the state and its ideology. This attitude found expression in talks with state authorities—which culminated with the 1978 summit between Honecker and Schönherr—and, previously, in the metaphor of the “Church in socialism.” This compromised attitude to state socialism stood in stark contrast with discourses that stressed the critical nature of the church’s role. Both of these attitudes, however, shared a common reference to socialism which, in turn, opened discussion with the “center.” Indeed, it was argued that the programmatic formula “Church in socialism” favored the emergence of a new public sphere in the GDR in 1989 (see Haspel quoted in Thumfart 2002: 390) for “all political criticism requires theological loyalty to the state” (Jüngel 1993: 7).46 ACCOMMODATION: CONSOLIDATION AND RAPPROCHEMENT The Creation of an East German Federation

The admission of the FRG to the western military alliance (NATO) in 1955 triggered an important discussion on militarism and neutrality in the GDR. Above all, the controversial agreement on military chaplaincy signed in 1957 between the Federal Republic’s government of Adenauer and Dibelius for the Evangelical Church in Germany (EKD) proved instrumental to the SED in branding the EKD the “NATO Church” and in promoting the GDR as the one German state that was truly committed to the goals of peace.47 Against this backdrop of mounting pressure from the party-state to break away from the EKD, and with any promise of reunification vanishing, the Protestant churches on the territory of East Germany, after much discussion, formally split from the pan-German organization on 10 June 1969 (Goeckel 1990a: 56 ff.; Pollack 1994a: 218 ff.) and created an independent organization, the “Bund der Evangelischen Kirchen in der DDR” (the Federation of the Evangelical Churches in the GDR, usually referred to as BEK or Bund). Bishop Schönherr justified the decision as follows: “The cause is the will of the church to express in a better way, as it has done in the past, the community that has long proved itself in important issues. The moment that made it urgent to provide this community with an organizational form is the new constitutional law of the GDR” (quoted in Pollack 1994a: 223). The church leadership presented the argument that the Bund could better meet the needs of Christians in the GDR, but reiterated its intention of pursuing dialogue with the West.48 Despite the division of the Protestant Church, the “special community of Evangelical Christianity in Germany” was emphasized in Article 4(4) of the Bund’s Basic Order, much to the state’s displeasure.49 For this reason, the state did not recognize the federation until 1971. Other projects to create a completely independent church failed.50 Although the territorial churches or Landeskirchen, and especially the synodal principle were retained, the foundation of the Bund, with its seat in Berlin, amounted to a centralization of church structures in the Berlin-Brandenburg area. As such, Nowak (1996: 11) stresses the primacy of

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Bishop Schönherr and of the Evangelical Church of the Union. All of the East German church leaders—with one noticeable exception—originated from Berlin-Brandenburg. Diverse commissions (for public relations, church work with children and youth, ecumenical relations, Diakonie, etc.) emanating from the church hierarchy were also established within the Bund. In spite of criticism, state socialism—and its principles—came to find some degree of acceptance among Protestant leaders (Graf 1994a). The churches came to internalize—even to promote and legitimate through theological arguments— the separation of church and state in terms of the abolition of prerogatives as well as secularization.51 A majority of the Protestant clergy indeed cultivated a theological tradition and rhetoric of a minority dedicated to the gospel: a church of “true believers.” In the 1960s, the notion of a “minority church” became the official line in the Conference of Church Leadership in the GDR (Pollack 1994a: 165). Neubert comments retrospectively, “the minority church became idealized in contrast to the theologically dubious people’s church” (2000: 387). Consequently, an important place was conferred on the parish and the community of believers. The religious instruction, the Christenlehre, as well as other types of instruction and pastoral activity took place in the parish. However, the idea of service (Dienst), the bonum commune, as expressed in the Protestant metaphor “Church for others” (Rathke) or the churches’ self-description as a “witness and service community” (Henkys and Schönherr), clashed with that of a minority church because they maintained an elective affinity to the conception of a people’s church. What’s more, financial support from the western churches assured the continuation of diaconal and parochial structures. As Maser points out, “the churches [were] on their way to becoming minority churches. While their public influence would dwindle, they could retain their structure almost completely. This is because their western sister churches would never refuse them financial support” (Maser 1997b: 450). For this reason, the Protestant churches in the GDR are often portrayed as “minority people’s churches” (see among others Neubert 1993; Pollack 1994b).52 Nowak sums up the situation as follows: “At the structural level, Protestantism in East Germany withdrew, as the Catholic Church, to the religious sphere, though at an extended level and with a different attitude in view of the relation between church and society” (1995: 311). The 1978 Summit Between Church and State

The socialist Constitution of 1968 abolished most references to churches. Only Article 39 was seen to accommodate the churches. Under pressure from the church leadership, freedom of conscience and worship were added to this article on the churches. Article 39 made provisions for negotiations on particular issues, which in fact allowed more flexibility of interpretation than the more elaborate articles on the churches in the Constitution of 1949 (Mechtenberg 1986: 556).53 This new arrangement led to the opening of negotiations under the aegis of Erich Honecker and Albrecht Schönherr at the 6 March 1978 church-state summit.54 The agreement that was struck in 1978 became the modus vivendi of

The Catholic and Protestant Guiding Metaphors in the GDR | 33

church-state relations. Although there had freely been discussions on an informal basis with state authorities, it was the first time that the two parties engaged in official talks. The agreement culminated in the official recognition of the church by the state, and of the state by the Protestant Federation of Churches. Part of the deal included the renovation of church buildings—and the construction of churches in new “socialist towns”—compensation for land farmed by the agricultural cooperatives, access to the media, access to the state’s pension plan for church employees, and prison chaplaincy (Goeckel 1990a: 243; Henkys 1993; Maser 1997b: 447). However, issues of prime importance to the church, such as education and especially the militarization of society, were not addressed. The church also collaborated with the state in areas such as the media and social service provisions as well as occasional events such as the Luther celebrations and activities within the “Communist World Peace Council.” OPPOSITION: THE PEACE ISSUE AND THE GRASSROOTS GROUPS During the forty years of its existence, the SED regime sought to promote the goal of peace. Socialism and peace were, in accordance with official doctrine, identical (Goeckel 1990a: 176). Article 6(1) of the 1968 Socialist Constitution stated: “The German Democratic Republic, faithful to the interests of the German people and the international obligation of all Germans, has eradicated German militarism and Nazism on its territory and pursues a foreign policy serving peace and socialism, friendship among the peoples and security.” Through its peace propaganda the SED attempted to gain support from the churches in order to gain domestic and international legitimacy. Accordingly, the state Secretariat of Church Affairs supported progressive peace groups—notably the Christian Peace Conference and the Berlin Conference of European Catholics (Besier 1995b). The official policy of the party-state and the legitimacy conferred by the peace issue allowed the Protestant churches to act autonomously and organize their own peace activities. It should be noted, however, that the Catholics neither followed suit nor cooperated with their fellow Christians on this issue. With the exception of a 1983 pastoral letter on peace for Church’s World Peace Day (the so-called “kirchlicher Weltfriedenstag,” reproduced in Lange et al. 1993: 306) and a few remarks, no official declaration was made on the subject (see chapter IV). Official Peace Policy and Heresy

In the context of the Cold War and the center’s official policy, the peace issue proved to be a fertile ground for mobilization. The churches voiced strong criticism when compulsory military service was introduced in 1962. They argued that military service contradicted the state’s official policy in favor of peace as well as the right to freedom of conscience. For these reasons, they demanded alternative service for conscientious objectors. As a result, “unarmed construction units” (Bausoldaten) were set up as part of the National People’s Army in 1964. Reiterating the incongruity of the state-promoted “armed peace” and the incommensurability of being a Christian and soldier, church protests continued and a host

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of activities were organized.55 The churches argued that one could be both Protestant and socialist, but not Protestant and militarist. The Bund followed a radical line and went a lot further than the official statements of its sister organization in the West including, for instance, the 1959 Heidelberg Theses (see Chapter IV for the churches’ declarations). Following the Helsinki agreements, the peace issue, strongly promoted by both the church and the state, proved to be political dynamite. Rehberg points to the dangers of dealing with doctrinal subtlety. Fundamental opposition movements, he writes, “generally advance a one-sided codification of guiding metaphors [Leitideen]. They refer to their original sources. This, however, is precisely what is contested. Thus, in a party or church struggle, words from Marx or the Bible can be quite dangerous. These words acquire the status of revelation and a different interpretation is a sign of heresy” (Rehberg 1994: 68-69). Protestant criticism was an attempt to redefine the peace issue using their own rationale. In doing so, they used institutionalized rules to their own ends. Meyer and Rowan (1991 [1977]) stressed the importance of “the creativity of actors in using the ideological and institutional resources available and the practical work of actors as they manipulate definitions and use available standards of virtue” (see also DiMaggio 1988: 9). It is on this issue, the concept of peace, that new ideas emerged and the Protestant churches encroached on powers of state socialism and eventually eroded the center’s monopoly of interpretation.56 As will be shown below, these types of contradictions represent an important factor for change (DiMaggio 1988: 16; North 1990: 7). The introduction of compulsory military instruction in schools in 1978 sparked a movement within and around the Protestant Church that developed outside the state-sponsored peace movement.57 In the 1980s, the Protestant Church sponsored peace weeks, prayers for peace, and church retreats for peace. These activities contributed to the constitution of various groups organized around the issue of peace, ecology, women’s rights, and the Third World. The church thus served as a platform for groups striving to improve socialism (see Chapter IV for more details). After a period of state repression and resignation, the movement gained momentum and snowballed. A conflict with the partystate was bound to come about. The state Secretariat of Church Affairs pressed the church leadership to contain the movement in order not to jeopardize the modus vivendi reached in 1978 between church and state. The relationship between the church and the grassroots groups was already tense. These new groups flourishing under the auspices of the Protestant Church had a destabilizing effect on their host (Neubert 2000: 386). Indeed, the groups did not only challenge the center’s monopoly of interpretation, they also threatened the “Church in socialism” and its principles. Church leadership was increasingly divided over the paths of accommodation and opposition. Some Protestants, such as Heino Falcke and Friedrich Schorlemmer, defined the church as the “Church from below,” emphasizing a commitment to the oppressed and the weak (the so-called “political Diakonie”); other church representatives, such as Bishop Schönherr, denounced grassroots groups as opportunistic and stressed the

The Catholic and Protestant Guiding Metaphors in the GDR | 35

spiritual and pastoral duty of the church.58 As Goeckel sums up: “Given increasing political dissent and disaffection, the church served as both an umbrella for the expression of oppositional views and a channel for and domesticator of such views” (1990a: 247). Table 2.4 The Protestant Church in the GDR “Church in Socialism”

Accomodation Opposition Externalization - Polysemy -

Conflict within churches + state + groups *military service and instruction State + Society *1978 Agreement *Grassroots groups

Conformity

Protestants and “Practicing Nonbelievers” In contrast to the proclaimed image of a minority, “voluntary” church, Pollack suggests that “the committed, small community of convinced Christians corresponded more to the vision of the church leadership and some pastors than to reality” (1997b: 400). Indeed, church attendance was low even by mainstream Protestant standards. In 1991, it was estimated at approximately five percent. Moreover, the EKD study “Fremde, Heimat, Kirche” (1993) pointed to similarities between Christians in the new and old federal states. Apart from low church attendance and demand for the sacraments, the churches’ active members also shared an analogous profile as overly represented by mainly rural, elderly women. Pollack sums up the situation as follows: “The conditions of the people’s church have been reproduced to some extent in East Germany at a quantitatively lower level” (2000: 23). That being said, younger members of the eastern German Protestant Church showed a greater propensity for involvement in church activities than did their western counterparts despite their small numbers in the total church membership (see Barz 1993). Finally, it should be stated that similar levels of church attendance and practice do not necessarily coincide with shared attitudes, rhetoric, or views on the role of the church. In contrast to their low level of membership and participation, the Protestant churches attracted people who were obviously not affiliated with the church: “During the 1980s, about a quarter of the participants of parish religious instruc-

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tion were children of parents without church affiliation. One can thus infer that most of these children were not baptized” (Pollack 1994b: 283; also Hanisch and Pollack 1997: 38). The number of new members, demands for the sacraments (such as baptism and confirmation), and participation in parish religious instruction—the Christenlehre—increased slightly during the 1980s (Hartmann and Pollack 1998). The church’s “political Diakonie” also attracted people—Patrick Michel (1988) has called them the “practicing nonbelievers”—to church-sponsored public forums and services looking for a “free space” as well as those shunned by the system because they had sought permission to leave the country (Talandier 1994).59 As in Poland, “religion would seem to have received an exceptional bonus from the activity of communism, whose unintended consequence seems to have favored Christianization” (Cipriani 1994: 12). The course of events may not have literally favored Christianization, as Cipriani puts it, but it certainly did attract people who were not close to the organization, which in turn did enhance the public role of the eastern churches. Table 2.5

Church Membership in the Protestant Churches in the GDR/New Federal States 1946 1950 1964 1990/1991

14,962.558 14,802.217 10,091.907 (*)

81.5% 80.5% 59.4% 24.0% (**)

Source: Pollack (1994a: 374). He uses church and state statistics. (*) Not available. (**) This figure is produced using the highest and the lowest estimates available, namely, 21 and 27 percent (Pollack 1994a: 374). The Protestant churches in the GDR are remembered for the metaphor of the “Church in socialism.” This formula received a lot of criticism because it hinted at proximity to the state and its ideology,60 as reflected in the “nationalization” of the church’s structures and in both official and unofficial talks with state authorities, notably with the Ministry of State Security. This attitude may have conferred legitimacy on the regime, but it also allowed the church to engage in discussions on socialism and its organizing principles—unlike the Catholic Church, which avoided any debate. The creation of the Bund concentrated church power in Berlin and was marked by the prominent role of the Berlin bishops. That said, the leadership was contested. There was always a tension between the principles of accommodation and opposition within the church; however, the plurality and polysemy of organizing principles conferred strength on them in their dealings with the regime. The church could therefore remain a powerful organization housing grassroots groups despite its loss of membership. Conflict over organizing principles led to a redefinition of prevailing guiding metaphors,

The Catholic and Protestant Guiding Metaphors in the GDR | 37

such as the ethics of peace and, most importantly, socialism. This legacy shall have a great effect following German unification and the restoration of territorial churches within the EKD.

Different Metaphors … The institutional order characteristic of the GDR was first outlined in this chapter. It was characterized by the center’s ideology, that of socialism, and the omnipotence of the SED; that is, its monopoly of power and definition. In this context, the churches had remained the only organizations with their own cosmos next to the party-state and its apparatus. The major consequence of the state-sponsored atheism professed by the SED was the reduction of the domains of influence of churches—through coercion, harassment, discrimination, and infiltration. The virtual vanishing of religion at the societal level seems to have effectively broken, for the most part, what Hervieu-Léger (1993) has called “la ligne de croyants” (see Tables 2.2 and 2.5), and to have affected “the habits of the heart” (Bellah 1985; de Tocqueville 1986 [1835]). Indeed, the percentage of the population of the new federal state that is not affiliated with a church is estimated at seventy percent (in contrast to some fifteen percent in the old federal states).61 Notwithstanding the proclaimed separation of church and state, aspects of continuity regarding the treatment of religion nonetheless endured in formal and informal practices.62 Thus, the diaconal organizations could carry on with their activities. The churches were also granted some access to the domains of media and publishing—which, in turn, proved to be instrumental in establishing communication networks and the development and dispersion of ideas such as, for instance, the discussions around the peace issue and the Second Vatican Council.63 Moreover, generous funding from western sources allowed for the maintenance of organizational structures. The dialogue between the eastern and western wings of the churches was certainly more intense among Protestants than Catholics—who did not want to jeopardize their stance of “political abstinence”—which points to differences in guiding metaphors and organizing principles, which were to come to the forefront when state socialism collapsed. The brief outline of East German state socialism has been followed by an analysis of the development of the churches’ guiding metaphors, their organizing principles, the contexts in which they apply, and the conflicts that arose. The portrait reflects how religious organizations dealt with the center’s institutional order. Confronted with the party-state fusion of institutions that curbed traditional fields of church activity, religious actors defined themselves either in conjunction with, or in contrast to, state socialism. I have identified the overarching guiding metaphors put forward by the church leadership. The Catholic Church expounded the notion of “political abstinence” and stressed the spiritual and pastoral duties concomitant to it. It was followed by the whole episcopate until the 1980s and was well institutionalized through the authority of Bishop Bengsch. The

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Protestant churches in the GDR kept defining themselves in conjunction with the institutional order. In this vein, they promoted the motto of the “Church in socialism” and sought dialogue with the party-state. However, different organizing principles coexisted. While some protagonists stressed aspects of accommodation, which conferred legitimacy on the state, others emphasized social activism, which led to criticism of the state. In spite of the centralization of structures in Berlin, the synodal principle was maintained and no consensus prevailed among the Bund, territorial churches, “practicing nonbelievers,” and parishioners. In the end, the Protestant churches in the GDR assumed a public role while their Catholic counterpart upheld a reserved attitude. Different guiding metaphors meant that no cooperation took place between the two denominations until the assemblies of the Conciliar Process on Justice, Peace and the Integrity of Creation in 1988 and 1989, although meetings between welfare agencies—“Caritas” and “Inner Mission”—were regularly held.64 This chapter has stressed the importance of the nature or model of society of the relevant actors in determining the guiding metaphors that structure a religious organization and its members’ conduct. Protestant and Catholic actors opted for different strategies. As other examples of Soviet bloc countries and authoritarian regimes in Latin America and Asia illustrate (for examples, see Casanova 1994), these strategies were not inherent to either Protestantism or Catholicism; in order words, they were not necessary.65 Nor can the guiding metaphors of East German churches be reduced to a minority or majority situation (see the example of Northern Ireland, in Dillon 1997). Within the constraints of a given institutional order and their churches’ size and structures, religious actors—most notably the primates—contribute to shape metaphors. Their strength appears to be contingent on both the personalities at the head of the church leadership and the churches’ organizational structures in the struggle for the institutionalization of organizing principles. It was Bengsch’s attitude, authority, and model for society that set the tone for the Catholic Church in the GDR. To a lesser extent, the same can be stated for Schönherr and his role in the Protestant Church. The models shaped by the primates produced conflicts within the churches or between the church and the state. Following the line of “political abstinence,” conflict emerged between the Catholic Church and the state over education. The Catholic episcopacy voiced criticism and established new religious practices in the parish. The church hierarchy insisted on the freedom of conscience and worship enshrined in the constitution. Nevertheless, the arguments were used selectively which, in turn, triggered criticism from the younger clergy and laypeople. For example, the introduction of a compulsory military service and the Fahneneid did not receive the same attention as the Jugendweihe. Furthermore, diaconal homes were maintained with state financial support in spite of the line of “political abstinence.” In contrast, Protestants were more vociferous than Catholics and, for that matter, their brethren in the West as regards the introduction of military service, albeit not as much as far as the Jugendweihe was con-

The Catholic and Protestant Guiding Metaphors in the GDR | 39

cerned. This corroborates a division within the Protestant Church over the adoption of an attitude of either accommodation or opposition. Drawing on Hirschman’s framework of “Exit, Voice, and Loyalty,” we could claim that the attitude of “cognitive retrenchment” favored by the head of the Catholic Church typically coincides with an “exit” of the system while the attitude of “cognitive bargaining” adopted by the Protestant Church is consistent with “voice.”

… And the Dissolution of the Institutional Order The party-state’s monopoly of power and definition were contested by the peace movement and other grassroots groups in the Protestant churches in the name of a “better and true socialism.”66 Incidentally, it was the political monopoly of the SED and restrictions on travel—not socialism—that the alternative groups at first wanted abolished. The easing of principles underpinning the regime eventually sounded the death knell of the GDR. As Lepsius comments, “when this institutional order fell apart, the GDR also ceased to exist” (1994: 17). This led to several consequences for the churches. As Nedelmann stresses, “processes of institutional demise are easily extended to other institutions (and persons) which occur as a result of the fall” (1995: 29). Since the churches’ guiding metaphors in the GDR were, to different degrees, interwoven with the state (through either rejection or recognition of it), the collapse of the regime’s institutional order brought down guiding metaphors with it. As Zucker maintains, “every institutionalized system tends to carry ‘baggage’ of related structures and activities that become institutionalized over time—a process I have elsewhere (1987) referred to as the ‘contagion of legitimacy’” (1991 [1977]: 105).67 With the collapse of state socialism, some church metaphors have lost their validity or, in order words, their binding capacity. The legitimacy of a motto such as the “Church in socialism” was severely questioned while the principle of “political abstinence” became obsolete.68 Other formulas, such as the Catholic expression “Church in the diaspora,” describing the membership situation, could be redefined and therefore retained. The fate of churches raises the issue of the “morality” of guiding metaphors and the dilemmas facing actors in periods of radical social change (Lepsius 1999). What was once legitimate suddenly was no longer. With the collapse of an institutional order, “the action is now considered in a different light as the individual faces a new responsibility. He must prove to himself and others his moral integrity without the possibility of referring to the validity of institutionalized contexts of action” (Lepsius 1999: 113). Accordingly, some observers—both actors and commentators—advanced a one-sided version of the history of the Protestant Church in the GDR as one of accommodation (Besier 1993, 1995a), while others stressed the oppositional character of the church (Allen 1989; Neubert 1990). As the situation changed, criticism shifted from one protagonist to the other. In this respect, discussions concerning the future of the organization and its perception as a minority or a people’s church

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reflect, as will be shown in the following chapters, different interpretations linked to normative judgments that color the churches’ discourses and strategies in postunification Germany. At first blush, the collapse of the GDR’s institutional order seemed to have a greater effect on the Protestants than their Catholic counterparts, who to a certain extent were immune to the party-state and its ideology. This impression fueled a grudge by the Protestants against the Catholics as it sometimes seemed as though the winners “were those who did nothing” (see Neubert quoted in Lange 1996: 96). The Bund’s relation to socialism might account for Protestant difficulties in coming to grips with the new situation as well as their sense of crisis. Milosz observes the difficult situation of East European intellectuals practicing Ketman.69 “Ketman means self-realization against something. He who practices Ketman suffers because of the obstacles he meets; but if these obstacles were suddenly to be removed [as in the dismantling of the GDR], he would find himself in a void which might perhaps prove much more painful” (1990 [1951]: 80).70 The crisis was more acute as a considerable part of the Protestant intellectual elite left the church to enter the political sphere or other lay spheres of activities. The result of this crisis is a diffuse situation where guiding metaphors are less likely to guide and predict social conduct. That said, while some guiding metaphors were superseded, the principles and practices associated with them remained in place as there was no such thing as a “Stunde Null” (zero hour). To be sure, the end of the dominance of political rationality over legal and economic rationality presented the churches with a more complex situation. Religious organizations were now faced with competing groups, legal procedures, and other problems ensuing from the end of the GDR and the end of the special subvention politics of the West German state and churches, which had until then supplied them with financial resources. Further, they were now confronted with a new host of state and social homologues. As a church official put it, “in the GDR, they [the bishops] knew their opposite number in government, they knew whom they could turn to. For this reason, it was easier back in the GDR.”71 The role of the Catholic Church was minor in what has sometimes been described as a “Protestant revolution” (Neubert 1990). Indeed, the Catholic Church did not favor the reform of socialism—as did individuals associated with the Protestant churches—nor did it expect an eventual unification of the two German states. The GDR institutional order was, at least until the 1980s, mostly considered an obsolete order, a waiting period—a “purgatory,” according to Le Goff ’s analogy (1981).72 The Catholic Church resembled a “people’s church on hold.” It was as though its order had been “suspended” for close to forty years. Accordingly, it did not follow developments in world Catholicism or in West Germany. Abstaining from discussions with the state and its western counterparts, it retreated to its parishes. In this sense, it did constitute a break from the West. The Catholic attitude resembles what Milosz (1990 [1951]) calls a “metaphysical Ketman.” Milosz explains that this “depends upon a suspended belief in a metaphysical principle of the world. A man attached to this Ketman regards the

The Catholic and Protestant Guiding Metaphors in the GDR | 41

epoch in which he lives as anti-metaphysical, and hence as one in which no metaphysical faith can emerge” (Milosz 1990 [1951]: 72). This time seemed to be over. In a series of letters, the episcopacy encouraged the laity to participate in social life and to seize the new opportunities (see Lange et al. 1993: 38, 393414). Coinciding with the demise of state socialism, Wanke wrote, “only a few people [will] join the church. Perhaps it is not that important that everyone be a church member. As an organization, it has always had a proxy function” (quoted in Richter 1990: 1603). With the unification of Germany looming in the near future, the churches had to come to grips with their pasts and to reflect on their public roles in a radically new context. The next section shall examine how the deinstitutionalization of the order that characterized the Democratic Republic and the “institutional transfer” realized under the Federal Republic affected both churches. Debates conducted within the churches since the beginning of the 1990s will be reviewed in order to delineate the positions the religious actors favored and sought to institutionalize as well as the strategies they used in this endeavor. The outcomes of the debates will be evaluated using the categories developed in the first chapter, i.e., innovation, adjustment, and adaptation. What happened to the church institutions and guiding metaphors? Did a revolution or a restoration take place? Or have the principles and practices associated with the institutions developed in the GDR endured and affected western ones? More generally, do the churches still define themselves in conjunction with the state or in contrast with it? Do the Protestant churches identify themselves with the new prevailing institutional order as a “Church in capitalism”? Does the Catholic Church resist the new order and maintain its position? These are some of the issues that will be examined in the following section.

Notes 1. I refer the reader to important monographs and articles on church history in the GDR, all of which draw extensively on archive material. For the Protestant churches, Pollack (1994a), Besier (1993, 1995a) as well as Goeckel (1990a); for the Catholic Church, see Schäfer (1999) as well as a series of articles by Pilvousek (1993; 1999) and others quoted in the bibliography. See also the reproductions of church documents in (BEK in der DDR 1989; Pilvousek 1994, 1998; Demke, Falkenau et al. 1995; Lange 1993, 1996; Höllen 1997, 1998). 2. Those principles are enshrined in the Constitution of 1968. For a transcription, see Appendix III, Articles 1 and 47(1). 3. Lepsius sums up, “these German mentalities [of the two dictatorships] chose authoritarian rule instead of institutional processes for conflict settlement, an order based on abstract principles instead of acknowledgement of the ambivalence of values, a strong executive instead of a readiness to seek compromise, a standardization of interests instead of pluralism, the collectivity of the nation or class against the rights of the individual” (1995c).

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4. The Soviet Administration proved to be particularly lenient toward churches (Goeckel 1990a: 41; Nowak 1995). In 1946, the SED drafted a constitutional text which heavily drew on the arrangements on religious associations of the Weimar Constitution (1919). The 1949 Constitution adopted the wording of the 1946 text (see Appendix II, Articles 40 to 48). Accordingly, the constitutions of the Länder, drafted between 1946 and 1947, pledged the same principles. Churches were still described as public corporations and were, until 1956, entitled to levy a church tax and provide religious instruction in schools. There were, however, no provisions for church holidays and confessional schools. 5. Lepsius states, “conformity in the GDR was to a great extent structured by institutions, not motivated by ideology. The reduction of alternative actions makes conformity plausible, particularly when individual cases of ‘deviant’ behavior are sanctioned by exemplary and draconian punishment” (1994: 28-29). Although the GDR was not endowed with indigenous legitimacy at its founding, people began to take it for granted with the passage of time. Easterners tend generally to react sensitively when the former GDR is depicted as a dictatorship. This is notably manifest in the words of Thierse: “the GDR was not only a dictatorship. It was human in a pleasant, cozy way: a welfare state that took care (Fürsorgenstaat)” (1993: 6). 6. As Hartweg points out: “although, on the one hand, political media control in the GDR effectively ensured that the public knew little about church life; on the other hand, political decisions concerning churches were considered a matter of state” (1995: 6). 7. For a succinct account of the state regulation of religion, see (Thériault 1996) and the vast documentation now available in Besier (1992), Hartweg (1995), and Höllen (1997, 1998). 8. Interestingly, the Soviet administration did not abolish the bürgerliches Gesetzbuch (BGB). Registered associations (eingetragener Verein, e.V.) therefore could nominally maintain their status (Jostmeier 1996: 197). 9. Where church educational facilities could be maintained, such as in theological faculties in state universities and some diaconal schools, students had to take an introductory course in “Marxism-Leninism.” 10. The churches also indirectly profited from the GDR’s policy of price subvention and could rely on West DM to finance current expenses and most of their employees’ salaries (Demke 1997: 121). 11. These guarantees as well as the continuity of church structures have, it is suggested, facilitated the reintegration of churches within the western framework (Huber 2000). 12. Indeed, the Jugendweihe is a practice rooted in nineteenth-century free thinkers milieus (see Isemeyer 1989). 13. The organization was established at the very end of the GDR, in 1989, to contain the churches’ increasing public role and legitimacy. 14. At the same time, a decision was made to commemorate Karl Marx in 1983, thus superimposing that celebration with a socialist one. 15. In an older book, Berger distinguishes two types: “accommodation” and “retrenchment” (1973 [1967]; see also Johnson and Chalfant 1993: 77). 16. As Graf notes, “with the consolidation of the GDR since the late 1950s and 1960s, there has been a mental separation of the two German Protestantisms” (1994a: 312). 17. Cardinal Meisner of Berlin declared in Dresden in 1986 that “in this country the Christian Church would like to invest its talents and gifts in society without being forced to follow another star which is not that of Bethlehem” (translated in Conzemius 1998 : 54). 18. The aftermath of World War II was marked by the arrival of refugees from the former German territories. Some forty-four percent of the refugees were Catholics (N.N. 1949). As a consequence, the Catholic population increased and was accompanied by a growth in parishes and charities. In the words of Knauft (1980: 26), the “große Stunde der Caritas” had arrived. 19. “We are living in a house whose foundations we did not build, and we think those foundations are not capable of bearing much weight.... We are happy to help to make it a place where we can live with human dignity, but we are unable to add another story because in our view the

The Catholic and Protestant Guiding Metaphors in the GDR | 43

20. 21.

22. 23.

24.

25.

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

foundations are defective” (Bishop Spülbeck of Meißen at the 1956 Catholic convention in Cologne, translation from Conzemius 1998: 54. For the original quotation, see Lange 1993: 101-103). “It is as though one would run a garden in the north. The whole atmosphere is areligious and antireligious” (Berlin Bishop Weskamm quoted in Pilvousek 1999: 3). New archival material shows that the Catholic Church did maintain some contacts—i.e., a “quiet diplomacy”—with the Ministry of State Security along with the state Secretariat of Church Affairs and local authorities (Grande and Schäfer 1998; Haese 1994a, 1996). Every contact had to be reported. The bishops and their aides were in charge of the “quiet diplomacy” (Haese 1996). Spotts mentions that the church sometimes invoked the Reichskonkordat to justify its actions: “for instance, it has successfully protected its priests from pressure to join communist organizations by treating Article 32 [of the Reichskonkordat], which bans political activity by the clergy, as still being in force” (Spotts 1973: 215). Note that the SED did not formally recognize the agreement. In the beginning, the East German state financed church activities. The Catholic Church rejected the arrangements negotiated by Schönherr and Honecker at the church-state summit of 1978 (see below). The church refused pensions and social benefits for its personnel, cemeteries, etc. (Lange 1996: 84-85). In 1975, an agreement was concluded between the churches and the state over confessional social welfare organizations (see Chapter VI). Catholics in the GDR enjoyed the strong support of western Catholics and dioceses, Deutscher Caritasverband, and Bonifatiuswerk, an association responsible for the Catholics living in the “diaspora” as well as the Ministry for Pan-German Affairs, later called the Ministry of Internal Relations (Kroll 1996: 93). Pilvousek estimates that the western churches contributed sixty percent of the churches’ budgets in the GDR (Pilvousek 2000: 10). In a 1965 letter to Pope Paul VI, Bengsch commented on Gaudium et spes: “the encouragements of the text on Christian co-operation with political, cultural, or secular institutions is not protected from future abuse” (quoted in Pilvousek 1999: 10). The Berlin Bishops’ Conference, the organ of the eastern church leadership, had been created in 1976 as the heir of a conference set in 1950, the BOK (Berliner Ordinarienkonferenz or Berlin Ordinaries’ Conference). These efforts were on the whole ad hoc criticism. Freedom of faith and conscience is guaranteed by Article 41 of the 1949 Constitution and Article 20(1) of the 1968 Constitution (see Appendix II and III). But in the absence of an independent constitutional court, the constitution was reduced to a rather worthless document (Christopher 1985: 16). Unlike the situation of the “Confessing Church” in the Third Reich, there were very few legal options available (see Nowak 1996: 15 and Schreiber 1997). Schäfer (1999: 115-116) underlines the low Catholic participation in the years immediately following the introduction of the Jugendweihe. The situation seems to have been more difficult thereafter. In 1960, 87.8 percent of all pupils are said to have taken part in the ceremony (Richter 1987: 171). In the Protestant churches, a different attitude was adopted. Although the Jugendweihe was also said to be incompatible with confirmation, children were encouraged to take part in church activities and to receive the sacrament in the following year (Pollack 1994a: 154). In the 1980s about ten percent of the Protestant children received the confirmation and, in most cases, the Jugendweihe as well (Fischer 1998). Although human rights were routinely defended, it is not clear whether the Catholic Church in the GDR was committed to them as part of a general trend in the church following the Second Vatican Council and a coming to terms with modernity might indicate (see Casanova 1994: 72 ff.).

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32. Bengsch wrote to Höffner in 1978: “Charitable institutions represent the church’s possibility for participation in society like no other” (quoted in Pilvousek 2000: 30). A similar thought was formulated by Bishop Meisner in 1988 (in Pilvousek 2000: 30). 33. Considerable sums of money were transferred to the eastern churches through the welfare agencies. Starting in 1973, they enabled the construction of 107 new Protestant and 54 Catholic Church buildings (Maser 1997a). 34. Haese (1996) suggests that leading figures of the agency—in particular Wienken and Zinke— played a crucial role in negotiating with the party-state. Schäfer (1999: 27) mentions that Zinke, director of Caritas central office in East Berlin (1952-1968), was the main negotiator with state authorities before Otto Groß, Bengsch’s acolyte, took over his function. 35. Catholics still avoided referring to the East German state, preferring apolitical synonyms, such as in Wanke’s declaration: “We also want to belong here, not because we cannot do any other way, but because we want to find a way, for this country’s sake and its people’s sake, to spell the gospel of Jesus Christ in ‘middle German’” (1992: 13). 36. The Döpfner decree, which forbade Catholic participation in political life, was reinforced in 1977 and again in 1985 (see Lange et al. 1993: 292-293 and 318-320). 37. As we will see, the demise of state socialism will cause a dramatic change. 38. In 1981, Wanke said, “I am no prophet of doom when I say that there will hardly be any Catholics in villages in a few years. For this reason, it is essential that everyone who wants to retain and pass on his or her Catholic faith be urgently advised to move to a city. Cities, due to their vibrant communities, present an opportunity for the faith” (reproduced in Pilvousek 1998b: 240). 39. In her study on religious instruction in two Catholic diasporas, one in Thuringia (East) and the other in Schleswig-Hohlstein (West), Annegret Beck observes that children in the East are more involved with their church (sample populations of students participating in various forms of Catholic religious instruction were small: 77 in Thuringia and 61 in SchleswigHohlstein). In a sample from the eastern diaspora (Erfurt and Nordhausen), 19.4 percent responded that they attended church more than once a week, 67.9 percent attended church each week and 11.5 percent attended rarely or never. Most of the children (95.4 percent) said their parents were religious. A little more than half of the children attended their parish center each week (for altar boy activities, youth meetings, and choir practice). This contrasts sharply with the situation in Schleswig-Holstein, a western diaspora, where no respondent attended mass more than once a week, 39.4 percent attended church services weekly, 24.2 percent regularly, and 36.4 percent never (1994: 45-49). 40. The flourishing association landscape that had characterized Catholicism in the Hohenzollern Empire had been decimated under the Nazi regime. There remained only a few associations, such as the small “Kolping Vereine,” some associations of scholars and students and, more importantly, Caritas (N.N. 1990c: 232). As Nowak remarks, “A peculiarity of church structures [both Catholic and Protestant] in the GDR is the weakness of their associations. Besides the church authorities, the clergy, the parishes, and vast organizational network of Diakonie [and Caritas], the associations were almost completely absent” (1996: 12). 41. At a conference in Erfurt, Hans Joachim Meyer, a prominent East German Catholic, retrospectively described the attitude of his fellow Catholics as follows: “To manage keeping what we have and hope to God that times change” (1999). 42. Schönherr, a former student of Bonhoeffer, was an eminent figure of the Protestant churches in the GDR. 43. Some people, notably Mechtenberg, argue that the expression was first formulated at the Schwerin Synod in 1973: “[T]he Church in socialism would be the church that assists Christians and the parishes so that they find a place in socialist society with both freedom and binding faith” (quoted in Mechtenberg 1994: 3). 44. Moreover, it corresponded to the position of the CDU-East (Planer-Friedrich 1982: 250).

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45. The conference of the eastern church leadership summed up its work with the expression “between accommodation and refusal” (Demke, Falkenau, and Helmut 1995: 11). Pollack mentions that the expression had already been used in the 1950s (1994a: 167). 46. This point was explicitly made by Hirschman (1970) in his seminal book Exit, Voice, and Loyalty. 47. Although most territorial churches pronounced themselves in favor of the agreement, the leaders of the eastern churches made assurances that the Military Chaplaincy Agreement was not valid for the GDR (Heider 1993: 192). 48. Similarly, in 1970, after the creation of the Bund, the East German Protestant Welfare Association seceded from the western-based organization and was renamed “Inner Mission und Hilfswerk der Evangelischen Kirchen in der DDR.” The separation was to acknowledge the existence of two administrations in East and West Berlin since the end of the 1940s. Interestingly, as Dietrich mentions, “the EKD may have been vehemently attacked by the elite of the GDR, but there were no campaigns against the all-German organization of the ‘Inner Mission and the Hilfswerk’” (1999: 106). See also Chapter VI for more details. 49. Article 4(4) of the Bund’s Constitution stated, “The Federation confesses the special community of Evangelical Christianity in Germany. In the responsibility for this community, the Federation accepts, in partner-like freedom, tasks which all Evangelical churches in the GDR and the FRG have in common” (Goeckel 1990a: 79). 50. However, some church officials talked of a “church in theological terms.” Henkys comments, “the church federation is, as the theological discussions of the synod of the Bund in 1976 in Züssow stated, not only a federation of churches, but in the full sense, a church” (1990: 77; see also Baum 1996: 58-59). 51. In 1956, the theologian Günter Jacob, a student of Karl Barth, advanced the first theological attempt to legitimize the abolition of privileges. “With this attitude, which would later become the official line of the Church Federation on theology, Jacob and Hamel at this time still represented a minority position” (Pollack 1994a: 165). 52. As Nowak points out, “influential church leaders did not take too well to the expression ‘people’s church.’ The churches in the GDR nevertheless remained people’s churches: the structures of the services, the reality of the parishes and the church’s areas of activity were features of the people’s church—though a particular minority type of people’s church. The people’s church in Germany is a factor of continuity par excellence in church history and Christianity. It endured the political systems and cultures of the nineteenth and the twentieth centuries. The GDR was no exception. The people’s church, as a term and an object, contained constitutive elements of the church and referred to the public, the state, and society. On a socio-political level, caring for the bonum commune is part of the understanding of the people’s church” (1996: 22). 53. Article 39 reads as follows: (1) Every citizen of the German Democratic Republic has the right to profess a creed and carry out religious activities. (2) The churches and other religious communities are to arrange and carry on their affairs and their activities in conformity with the constitution and the legal regulations of the German Democratic Republic. 54. A first agreement dealing with the status and the training of medical personnel in church hospitals had been signed in 1975 in accordance with the new church article (BEK in der DDR 1975). Through the agreement, the churches’ diaconal agencies had received official sanction. 55. In 1981, a grassroots initiative proposed a “social peace service” as an alternative to military service (see Goeckel 1990a: 261; Koch and Neugebauer 1993: 132). 56. As Weinert comments, “the common denominator in the conflict [for example, the peace issue] is breaching the institutional organizational autonomy of the state’s competence to define, explain, and interpret. The causes, interests, and constellations of these conflicts can give us important information about the social dynamics, direction, and change of direction of the processes of institutionalization” (1995: 242). 57. The church introduced its own teachings on peace through its parishes (Demke, Falkenau and Helmut 1995: 284 ff.; Gildemeister 1993: 162).

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58. Neubert critically points out, “a paradoxical situation emerged as the church attempted to impinge on the scope of action of the groups engaged at the social, cultural, and political level within the church and limit their public influence. The official church considered its statements, with the exception of public declarations, ‘for church internal use only’ as a mandatory mention reiterated on every photocopy” (2000: 386). 59. A considerable number of people could be employed in the church-run diaconal homes (see Talandier 1994: 61 ff.). 60. That said, Protestants are characterized by a low level of political participation. Approximately four percent of the clergy were members of the CDU and some two percent participated in organizations run by progressive pastors (Goeckel 1990a: 180). Another four percent are said to have collaborated with the secret police (Conway 1994: 738). 61. Pollack (in Neubert 1996) has shown that in the West, the unaffiliated eventually joined a church. This did not happen in the East. However, this does not mean that easterners are anticlerical (see Pickel 2000). 62. This involves “institutional taboo zones” (see Rudloff 1998: 228), path-dependent development processes, and assumptions that have been taken for granted. The fact that the socialists placed greater emphasis on public education, which involved the inculcation of values, than on the social services offered by the church agencies, no doubt made it easier to adopt public policy that included religious associations (see Chapter VI). 63. The Catholic pastoral synods in the GDR following the Second Vatican Council were unique in central and eastern Europe. 64. It has often been contended that organizations in the same regulatory environment develop similar strategies and isomorphism (see Powell and DiMaggio 1991 [1983]). The two churches, however, were characterized by different strategies. 65. As argued, for instance, by Willaime (1992) in his chapter entitled “L’organisation religieuse et la gestion de la vérité: modèle catholique et modèle protestant.” 66. This brings to mind Tocqueville’s assertion that “revolutions are most likely to break out where change and reform are already vigorously under way” (Hirschman 1991: 49). 67. Powell uses the notion of “complex interdependencies” (1991: 191). 68. Similarly, the Protestant Church had collapsed with the fall of the Hohenzollern Empire and was in deep crisis throughout the Weimar Republic. This corroborates a close relation to the institutional order, not necessarily with the affinity to socialism postulated by Graf (1994a). 69. Ketman is a cognitive procedure that consists in hiding one’s true beliefs. It is an “unexpected specimen of heresy.” Milosz identifies four types: national, skeptical, professional, and metaphysical (1990 [1951]: 54-81). 70. Patrick Michel compares East Europeans at the end of the communist experience to hostages following their liberation. He writes: “Beyond his habits, to admit that the mechanisms of internal resistance which allowed him to endure his detention and on which he formed his own personality have no bearing in his new environment would amount to stating that this detention was not part of his life and that his life, therefore, contains a gap of four decades” (1993: 209-210). 71. Interview conducted by Barbara Thériault with Jürgen Bär, former member of the Ecclesiastical Council of the Church Province of Saxony, Erfurt (29 April 1998). 72. Le Goff notes in his book La naissance du purgatoire (1981: 206) that this conception (“Église en attente”) historically relates to a definition of purgatory, defined as a community of Christians living between heaven and earth in the hope of a better world.

PART II

THE TRANSFORMATION OF CHURCH MODELS

Chapter 3

THE “POLITICS OF INSTITUTIONALIZATION” An Analytical Introduction

 Periods of radical change are marked by “institutional reflexivity.” What had once been taken for granted is now challenged. Once the restraints imposed by the SED had been removed, most Christians shared the opinion that the churches should strengthen their links with their western counterparts, although there was no agreement as to the form this rapprochement should take. The situation was also complicated by German unification: it opened up new spheres of influence for Christians and the churches in the former German Democratic Republic. There were now opportunities for organizational expansion in education, social welfare services, the media and state agencies (army, hospitals, police, and so on). Conflict soon emerged with regard to the church’s role in the new context and their guiding metaphors. I refer to the process of political and ecclesiastical unification and its aftermath as the “politics of institutionalization,” a term that describes the conscious attempt at institutionalizing and deinstitutionalizing guiding metaphors and their principles to a certain degree and direction (Lepsius 1995a: 400). This process involves, in the words of Merton, “purposive social action.” My account of the transformation process of church guiding metaphors during the “second phase of unification” in East Germany dwells on sources of conflict, as materialized in the arguments waged by religious actors in debates, and their outcomes (innovation, adjustment, adaptation). Before embarking upon the analysis of conflict between institutions and organizing principles, a necessary step is to circumscribe the object of inquiry in the new context: East Notes for this section begin on page 56.

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German guiding metaphors and their carriers. This exercise should provide useful tools for canvassing how conflict took shape in the different fields of church activities under study and how it evolved over time.

East German Guiding Metaphors and Organizing Principles … At first blush, the debates following the collapse of the GDR seem to oppose eastern and western actors. However, as the account in the previous chapter of the Catholic and Protestant churches in the GDR shows, the organizing principles guiding their actions were at all times contested. Differences within eastern churches came to the forefront when state socialism collapsed. Werner Krusche, a Protestant bishop, confirms this when he writes, “As we were obliged to cooperate [in the GDR], we tended to avoid controversy rather than settle it. Many of the differences that were covered over have now suddenly emerged to our great displeasure. There was probably less consensus among us than we had originally thought” (1991: 40). The introduction of the new legal framework for German unification also blurred the situation and made it difficult to identify “eastern metaphors.” In order to circumvent problems entailed by an East/West dualism and the evolution of discussion within the new framework, I intend to draw on Albert O. Hirschman’s analogy (1991) and distinguish the “defenders of the status quo” from the “proponents of reform.”1 From this viewpoint, East German metaphors, the central object of analysis, correspond to what the actors wish to maintain while reform corresponds to a departure from the status quo. I shall argue that the division between the proponents of the status quo and reform allows us to follow the evolution of the discussion and to point to differences between Catholics and Protestants. Assuming that the East German institutions are those generally described by Christians as the “positive experiences of the GDR and the ‘Wende,’” the perspective can be reversed: the guardians of the order in the East, i.e., the proponents of the status quo, become, in the West German institutional context, its challengers or reformers. They become, in reality, “conservative revolutionaries.” The expression was first used in interwar Weimar Germany to relate to a group of radical, antimodernist intellectuals whose number included Martin Heidegger, Ernst Jünger, Carl Schmitt, and Hans Freyer (Fraser 1989: 35; Lenk 1989). Of course, the notion is here conferred on a different definition as it is associated with an attitude to change. That said, there are, as I will suggest, some similarities in the type of social critique put forward by the interwar and the postunification “conservative revolutionaries.” Although unusual, I argue that the distinction between status quo and reform is a more fecund approach than the East/West dualism, for there were proponents of the eastern status quo both in the East and in the West.2 It should, however, be noted that these generic categories do not correspond to real groups. They are related, to paraphrase Bourdieu, to the position the actors occupy in a “field” (1990: 129). That said, it is

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probably fair to say that “conservative revolutionaries” shared some statistical characteristics such as being predominantly Easterner, Protestant, and related to the theology of Karl Barth. Conversely, the advocates of the West German status quo are for the most part, though not exclusively, West Germans and Catholics and are more likely to be numerous among bishops than among pastors and laymen. Marshalling the arguments of the defenders of the East German institutions and their opponents does not mean that the discourse took place in a “power free” context or an “ideal speech situation.” In the framework of the churches’ unification, which took place in tandem with political unification, the defenders of the West German status quo largely dominated.3 The western churches were larger and financially a lot more solid than their eastern counterparts.4 Consequently, the defenders of the East German status quo found themselves in a minority position in the pan-German context, although probably not in the East German context. The size of the eastern organizations, their financial dependence, and their “impaired morality” played against them.5 The moral argument aside, the situation is even more acute for the small Catholic Church. For this reason, it is often contended that the process of church unification took place between two “unequal partners.” Pollack states that in the process of unification “the churches were winners as western organizations not as eastern ones” (1998: 246). However, this type of East/West account neglects the extent of differing views present on both sides and undermines the fervor and ability of bearers of East German institutions to achieve their goals. I have already stressed that institutional entrepreneurs, regardless of their power position, can promote change by repeatedly invoking moral arguments and conferring new definitions on institutions. Indeed, as Lepsius points out, “the … deviant feels that his conduct is legitimized in reference to this value. By reference to values, it can also occasionally avert, evade, and delegitimize environmental sanctions on his conduct” (1990b: 38). A Negative Guiding Metaphor: The “People’s Church” I have referred to East German institutions as what the actors wish to uphold, the much-hailed “positive experiences of the GDR” and their related principles. From the vantage point of their guardians, the institutions are positive experiences because they have survived the collapse of the institutional order of the GDR and constitute a departing from the “people’s church tradition,” an expression widely used by proponents of the eastern status quo as synonym for reform. This idea of the people’s church was in fact of paramount importance in the discussions leading to the consolidation of the churches. The people’s church acts as a negative metaphor against which the defenders of the East German status quo articulate the principles guiding their conducts. In this context, the label “minority church,” taken in both its numerical and ideological dimension, is a recurrent image for the exponents of the status quo within both churches.6 Metaphors such as “minority church” for the Protestants or “church in the diaspora” for the Catholics, defined in contrast to a “people’s church,” are repeatedly emphasized.

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The spirit of the principles formulated by Protestant supporters of the East German status quo is notably manifest in the “Berlin Declaration of Christians from the two German States,” a document signed by some 600 Christians on 9 February 1990 as a response to the “Loccum Declaration” (BEK/EKD 1990), a statement issued three weeks earlier by the eastern and western church hierarchies with the aim of promoting a speedy political and ecclesiastical unification. The “Berlin Declaration” states: These [the protestant churches in the GDR] consciously followed a path within [underlined in original] the socialist society of the GDR. They tried to develop a credible church separate from the state (no state-levied church tax, but voluntary contributions from parishioners; parish religious instruction, no religious education in state schools; pastoral care of military conscripts, but no “military chaplaincy” [as in the West]). As a minority, they took up a political role in opposition to the state. Through “critical solidarity,” they strove to bridge the historical gap between the church and the communist movement. Their attempts to practice their Christian faith given the pressures of the state ideology— with their mistakes and failures—have proven an important learning experience for Christianity in Germany. The role of the Evangelical churches and, especially their critical role in the autumn revolution of 1989, are incomprehensible without an understanding of the church’s position in “real existing socialism” (N.N. 1990a: 20).

The signatories of the “Berlin Declaration” defined major organizing principles: 1) the separation of church and state and, in turn, the voluntary nature of participation in church activities, 2) a critical stance toward the state, 3) a commitment to the oppressed, and 4) the courage to speak out as Christians.7 The acknowledgment of the separation of church and state, combined with a role to challenge the state, was proclaimed as a milestone in the history of German Protestantism. The “Berlin Declaration” and many articles in the press at that time, criticized the idea of a people’s church financed by and dependent on the state; on the contrary, the churches’ frugality, their status as a critical and alternative organization and their commitment to peace and a “third way” between capitalism and socialism were strongly emphasized. For their part, Catholic defenders of the East German status quo issued no counterstatements to the East German bishops’ declaration of 20 February 1990 on the societal role of Catholics (reproduced in Lange et al. 1993: 402-403). Nevertheless, in discussions of church activity in the new organizational fields, Catholics also stressed the positive experiences made in the GDR such as the importance of the parish as the locus of religious life, new pastoral concepts and the fusion of pastoral and caritative activities.8 As with the Protestant case, many Catholics were skeptical of a church characterized by a wide network of associations and a greater public role, briefly, a “people’s church.” The Principles of the GDR and the Wende and Their Transformation Periods of radical political change are simultaneously characterized by institutional confrontation, polarization, and reflexivity. Following the collapse of an

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institutional order and the emergence of a new one, new institutions “filter” individual conducts (see Lepsius 1999). Whereas the guiding metaphors that have originated in state socialism are likely to become obsolete—as, for instance, the “Church in socialism”—I propose that their principles may survive. They withstand the new order. As the challengers of the East German institutions or principles have pointed out, there is a discrepancy between the principles prevailing in the GDR—including those that have gained momentum during the “Wende”—and those described as such by the actors. The institutions are being reconstructed within the parameters set by the new institutional order.9 They become manifest in the course of debates and the “politics of institutionalization.” They are formulated in opposition to other institutions and guiding metaphors in a “friend-enemy” manner, to paraphrase Carl Schmitt (1963 [1932]). Put plainly, they need an opponent to take shape.10 With this in mind, the contextual definition of the East German institutions—as depicted in the “Berlin Declaration”—serves as a heuristic instrument to gauge the extent to which change has taken place before and after the reestablishment of the churches’ unity. It is a provisory benchmark pointing to the institutionalization, the “marketing,” of a new model informed by prior conflict and in tension with the new institutional order.11 Students of political culture would contend that what I have identified as East German metaphors are enduring elements of socialism (Schluchter 1996) while others, such as Pollack (1997a; 1999), would argue that they represent an “urge to be different” or tactical responses to a predominantly western-influenced institutional order. To be sure, both the “mentality” and the “situational” arguments should certainly be given serious consideration in any account of the transformation of East German institutions. Following Max Weber’s famous citation on the connection of ideas and interests, we might claim that East German institutions guide behavior and shape the actors’ interests within the frame set by unification. In other words, metaphors are genuinely anchored in the actors’ mentality but are invigorated in an institutional order that sets parameters. They are subject to hegemonic principles and the “imperatives of the arguments” (Hirschman 1991) as actors manipulate the standard of virtue within institutions to promote their own positions, the status quo or reform. The different strategies involved in the consolidation and transformation of a church model remain to be explored in the coming chapters. Institutionalization and Deinstitutionalization In the process waged by religious actors for the institutionalization or deinstitutionalization of organizing principles, the origins and the genuine historical character of the guiding metaphors put forward by their defenders were repeatedly called into question by their challengers. In this way, reformers argued that defenders of the “so-called” status quo did not welcome the principles in the first place that they are now defending. By way of example, the creation of the Bund of Protestant churches in 1969 is said to have been born out of necessity. In real-

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ity, if the decision were in the hands of the Landeskirchen (territorial churches), the Bund would have been rejected. Similarly, reformers argued that if church officials had been given a choice they might have accepted a church tax levied by state. In making their case, the reformers claimed that certain “prerogatives,” such as the financing of social welfare organizations, the retention of parochial structures, and the large administrative apparatus were not seriously called into question. Moreover, the reformers stressed the close links that the Protestant Church had cultivated with the state. For this reason, they contended that the eastern churches were indeed “people’s churches.” The defenders of the status quo, on the other hand, have typically infused their “East German experiences” with value while stressing the intentional nature of their action. Thus, Krusche, a Protestant bishop, could paradigmatically claim in 1991: “The internal reason behind the establishment of the federation was religious necessity, its timing was due to state pressure” (1991: 3). The bishop did not deny that the eastern churches continued to enjoy “prerogatives” such as the retention of parochial structures and the large administrative apparatus, which were contrary to the idea of a minority church. He commented that the eastern churches had been seduced and regretted that they had been too weak to refuse these prerogatives (Krusche 1991: 5). In the course of the “politics of institutionalization,” the champions both of the existing state and of change presented polarized arguments in the debates. The reformers tended to stress the contingent nature of East German institutions and to question their instrumental value. Defenders of the status quo, for their part, emphasized the moral value of their institutions.12 Both sides contested the validity of the arguments invoked by their opponents. Whether the arguments put forward are actually valid is not relevant here, for the status quo had become naturalized and made into the way “things really were.” As Rehberg compellingly points out, “it then becomes clear that well-founded moral and theoretical dualisms (such as enforcement and agreement) do not take us that far empirically, as coercion may mobilize and lead to agreement and agreements are often based on obligation” (Rehberg 1994: 51).13 By way of analogy, the GDR was not endowed with indigenous legitimacy at its founding, but people nevertheless began to take it for granted with the passage of time. In other words, the GDR had become highly institutionalized. From this viewpoint, the arguments that were advanced, and not their actual validity, should be useful in understanding “the politics of institutionalization.” Of prime importance at this point is to delineate the contexts in which the types of arguments invoked by East German actors and, in turn, the aforementioned principles apply.

… And Their Property Space The advent of pluralism in 1989-1990 allowed the churches to play a role in new fields of activity in cooperation with the state. Yet conflict arose concerning

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church-state relations after German unification. It is important to note, however, that opposition does not come from the state, but from proponents of reform or the status quo within a church.14 The debates between the proponents of the status quo and the reformers have crystallized over several issues: the church tax levied by the state authorities, chaplaincy in the army, and religious instruction in public schools. Each of these issues affected Protestants and Catholics in a different way, reflecting different guiding metaphors. The debate unleashed among Protestants on the church tax was, due to pressure exerted by the western churches, promptly brought to a halt; in contrast, the introduction of the church tax met with no resistance among Catholics. Between 1991and 1996, the Protestant churches discussed the issue of military chaplaincy that reached a climax in 1994. It was, as Bishop Axel Noack points out, a paradigmatic discussion; “looking back, the problems of church reunification can be exemplified and described in all their different facets through the controversy around the pastoral care of soldiers” (1997: 146). In this discussion, both the positive experiences of the peace movement and the development of an independent position were emphasized. Most Catholics, however, did not question the status of military chaplaincy. Their focus centered on the extension of religious instruction to the eastern state schools—this was also the case with the Protestants—as this issue questioned the embeddedness of church activities in the parish and the church’s public role. A dispute lasted from 1990 until 1996 and reached a turning point with the introduction of a new subject to replace traditional religious education in public schools in the state of Brandenburg. The third case under study, social welfare, contrasts with the issues of military chaplaincy and religious instruction. 15 It is a particularly interesting field of church activities within which both confessional organizations cooperate with the state but where, paradoxically, no significant disputes have arisen. The debates took place against a contextual background of political and ecclesiastical unification which have not received in-depth analysis here.16 It is important, however, to distinguish two important time periods in the chronology of the debates: the first is the period immediately following the “peaceful revolution”; the second, the period following the “legal” revolution, the contractual self-dissolution of the GDR, and the incorporation of its territory into the Federal Republic, for, as Lepsius points out, “institutional orders set out alternatives to some actions, exclude others, strengthen certain values and channel toward certain goals” (1991: 73). A brief account of political and ecclesiastical unification will be given along the stories that are being told in the next chapters. The restoration of church structures will notably be dealt with in the case of military chaplaincy (Chapter IV). Other aspects will be touched upon as I go along. As religious instruction is under the jurisdiction of the federal states, certain aspects of the new state constitutions will therefore be brought up when dealing with church instruction (Chapter V), revealing the existence of a broad palette of regional differences within “eastern Germany.” Religion being primarily a matter of the federal states, it is an important point to make. Indeed, comparison of the

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religious issue in each federal state constitution questions the claim of a complete and successful “transfer of institutions” (see Quint 1997). The last chapter (Chapter VI) will deal with the restoration of other church-related associations, the confessional welfare agencies, in the wake of political unification. In this way, the three cases under study shall unveil different aspects of German unification. Each of the empirical studies has two sections: a brief historical section reconstructs in a schematic way the formation and consolidation of the churches’ metaphors and their organizing principles in a particular field with special attention paid to the GDR and, in the case of Chapter VI, the Weimar Republic; a second, contemporary section, then analyzes the changes brought about by the collapse of the GDR and the political and ecclesiastical unification. The following chapters look at the arguments expounded by Protestants and Catholics in the debates and the forms of change. In conclusion, more general considerations on the relation between “old” and “new” guiding metaphors will be presented through a comparison of their guardians, both Protestant and Catholic, which will delineate aspects of change and continuity in Germany.

Notes 1. In his writings on conservative politics, Hirschman uses the terms “reactionary” and “progressive.” His distinction is a reminder of Weber’s analogy between “priests” and “prophets” and the logic of their interactions. According to Weber, the priests are the guardians of an institutionalized order and its principles, the prophets those without—or outside the sphere of—authority. The prophets question and criticize the application of the principles safeguarded by the priests. In this way, they can eventually become carriers of innovation (Weber 1964 [1922]: 268). 2. Ten years after German unification it is difficult to assert who can be described as an East German or, for that matter, a West German. According to which criteria can one become an East German? Can someone born in the old FRG eventually become an East German or vice versa? 3. In theory, the churches and their confessional organizations did not have to reunite, let alone at the speed it was carried out. Nevertheless, the dissolution of the Bund and the annexation of eastern territorial churches, or Landeskirchen, to the EKD and of the reintegration of Catholic dioceses—as well as the abolition of their eastern organs—was promptly executed. Note that the Catholic bishops in the eastern dioceses set up a group, the “Arbeitsgemeinschaft der ostdeutschen Bischöfen” (see Wydmusch 1999). 4. The churches in the GDR were already heavily dependent on their western counterparts for finances. The end of the East German government’s subvention politics further aggravated the situation. The overall situation was overshadowed by financial uncertainty. 5. Although the eastern churches were widely praised for their role during the “peaceful revolution,” the publication of information on the involvement of laymen and church officials with the secret police—or stasi (see Besier and Wolf 1992) as well as the formula “Church in socialism” proved detrimental to the “morality” of these guiding metaphors.

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6. Demke comments: “This was mostly a defensive reaction against a dreaded picture of the people’s church characterized by the following catchwords: social service facilities, an encompassing principle (flächendeckendes Prinzip), effective public presence, distanced church membership, non-commitment” (1997: 125). 7. The experience at the “Conciliar process” and its three options were constantly repeated: a commitment to the world’s poor, pacifism in all conflict, and protection of the environment (Falcke 1991: 80). 8. According to Bishop Wanke, Catholic pastoral work in East Germany is characterized by “the ‘religiöse Kinderwoche,’ deacon helpers, family circles, forms of organized prayers such as the ‘heilige Stunde,’ the ‘Ring’, forms of supra-regional co-operation such as those within occupational groups, education and others” (Wanke 2000: 130). 9. For this reason, Angerhausen et al. could come to the conclusion that “the so-called ‘legacies’ of real socialism are constituted a posteriori. They can also either survive through their relation to political debate and structural institutional principles supported by other participants (or, for that matter, their absence) or help in the re-creation of individual and collective identity” (1997: 20-21). 10. Carl Schmitt (1963 [1932]) stresses this point in his essay on the nature of the political. Antagonism is central to Schmitt’s definition of the political. Indeed, he argues that one can grasp the political in its “friend-enemy” dimension (see also Mouffe 1999). Note, however, that the enemy does not here refer to a person, but an opinion. The protagonists of both the status quo and reform present arguments against an “adversary.” In debates, “the process of differentiation of guiding metaphors [Leitideen] renders tension zones visible” (Rehberg 1994: 68). 11. This echoes the development and delineation of a new paradigm in the scientific field. According to Bourdieu, the new paradigm defines itself in opposition to an older paradigm (Bourdieu 1981: 257 ff.; Lorenz 2000: 243-244). Thus, we could say that the church defines itself in a negative fashion against the metaphor of a people’s church as a minority church. It is a necessary strategy. However, the strategy has negative consequences in the long run. Because the emerging paradigm becomes a sort of reversal or mirror image of what it negates, conceptual problems pertained to the contested paradigm withstand the new one. This might lead to a crisis, to a standstill in the discussion or, in the words of Bourdieu (1981), an “epistemological blockade.” 12. The distinction reminds of Weber’s “ethic of responsibility” and “ethic of ultimate ends” (Weber 1946: 441). 13. Similarly, Powell claims, “once established and in place, practices and programs are supported and promulgated by those organizations that benefit from prevailing conventions. In this way, elites may be both the architects and products of the rules and expectations they have helped devise (1991: 191; see also Jepperson 1991: 149). 14. There have not been, barring a few exceptions, major conflicts between churches and state in the new federal states. See Thériault (2000b) for a study of the drafting of the Constitution of the state of Thuringia and the role played by the religious actors. 15. As I have mentioned above, the debate on the church tax was promptly brought to a halt. For this reason, it will not be dealt with here. 16. For the restoration of Protestant churches, see Besier (1993) and Wydmusch (1999). An account of the Catholic restoration is yet to be written. Given the short lapse of time since the events, Catholic archives are still not accessible.

Chapter 4

THE PASTORAL CARE OF SOLDIERS AND CONSCRIPTS A Paradigmatic Debate

 G uiding metaphors relate to activity scripts. As I have argued in the analytical introduction, they become manifest through conflict. With this in mind, the discussion on the future of the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts should be crucial in pinpointing East German guiding metaphors. Although initially this issue may seem secondary and perhaps trivial, it unleashed passionate debates and was propelled to the center of controversy in negotiations leading to the restoration of the Protestant federation of churches, the EKD. Unlike the Catholic leadership, which advocated reform and swiftly extended the existing western Military Chaplaincy to the East, the East German Protestant churches adamantly rejected its introduction. Opponents of military chaplaincy argued that the practice was irreconcilable with the “positive experiences” of the GDR and the “peaceful revolution.” This stance is important to our debate as past experiences, models, and definitions of the churches’ responsibilities and their validity come into play. For this reason, the dispute is often referred to as a proxy debate (Stellvertreterstreit) for the whole process of reestablishment of the churches’ unity and its consolidation. The defenders of the East German status quo point to the limits of the long-praised “special community.”1 They wish to retain the guiding metaphors of the GDR while wanting to influence the future of the whole church in postunification Germany. From this standpoint, I argue Notes for this section begin on page 84.

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that advocates of East German guiding metaphors can aptly be described in the pan-German context as “conservative revolutionaries.” In the first of three chapters dealing with the transformation of East German guiding metaphors, I review the discussion that took place over the last decade on the issue of the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts from the point of view of its defenders and challengers. As there was no military chaplaincy in the GDR, the parishes developed new practices. On the basis of these activities and against the backdrop of the party-state’s promotion of an “armed peace,” Christians engaged in a discussion about what they defined as the “clearer signal for peace.” First, I shall argue that the domestic and international peace policy advocated by the SED conferred legitimacy on the churches’ peace endeavors and the institutionalization of pacifism. It should be noted that the differing “guiding metaphors” of the Protestant and Catholic churches are reflected in different positions toward the “politics of institutionalization” following the reestablishment of their unity. Second, I focus on the process through which religious actors intentionally promote organizing principles while contesting competing ones in the discussion on the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts. Drawing on the analytical instruments developed by Hirschman (1991), I marshal the arguments in the church literature and attempt to delineate and compare the rhetoric of Protestants and Catholics while outlining their respective strategies. Thereafter, I turn my attention to the mediation of conflicting organizing principles and the outcome of this conflict during the “second phase of unification” in order to evaluate the ensuing transformation in terms of consolidation, maintenance, or rejection of East German metaphors and organizing principles. In so doing, I shall exemplify “the ways in which institutions incorporate historical experiences into their rules and organizing logic” (DiMaggio and Powell 1991: 33).

The Institutionalization of Peace in the GDR … The institutional order of the GDR was advocated by the SED through the use of antagonism and the dramatization of guiding metaphors that delimitated and overstated zones of tensions. Officially, private property and, by extension, capitalism were seen to contain the seeds of war (Klaus 1969: 429). The abolition of private property and the social class system to be achieved under socialism was to eliminate all conflict. Domestic peace and international peace were therefore intrinsic characteristics of socialism. The party-state nonetheless went to great lengths to reiterate its commitment to domestic and world peace at the “real existing level.” Thus, the 1949 Constitution, in accordance with Article 6, stated that the GDR had eradicated German militarism and Nazism and was pursuing a foreign policy that promoted peace. In contrast to other areas where the party-state sought to curb the churches’ influence, it solicited their involvement in the officially sanctioned peace movement within its borders as well as within several international organizations.2 Peace was seen as a bridge between the state

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and the churches (Wandel in Conway 1992: 727), a policy that corresponded to the Soviet strategy. Indeed, as Ploetz comments, “after two decades of military build-up ... Brezhnev’s Politburo was determined to thwart the deployment of the new American missiles by a ‘peace struggle’ rather than by a mutually acceptable arms control agreement” (2000: 111). Seeking church support on both the domestic and the international levels, the party-state supported—and indeed bolstered—the institutionalization of subsidiary organizations and institutions. Peace turned out to be a mobilizing issue, as attested to by the churches’ declaration on peace, which reflected general opinion following World War II (Mechtenberg 1982). In principle, as we will see, all sides agreed on the importance of peace; however, they disagreed—to paraphrase a formula of the Bund—as to what constituted a “clearer signal for peace.” The 1957 Treaty on Military Chaplaincy and the NATO Church In 1954, the FRG joined the western military alliance (NATO); the following year, the GDR entered the Warsaw Pact. The formation of these two military blocks entrenched the division between the German states. The churches nonetheless maintained their pan-German organizational structure. However, the signing of the Military Chaplaincy Treaty between the Protestant federation of churches (EKD) and the West German government in 1957—the West German army (the Bundeswehr) had been established a few years earlier—infuriated the SED.3 All German territorial churches had signed the document, thereby reiterating their attachment to the EKD. The party-state voiced strong criticism toward what it called the “NATO church.” This led to drastic measures on the part of SED officials: the refusal to engage in discussions with the EKD, travel restrictions across the shared border, and the forbidding of meetings between eastern and western Protestants on its territory. Tensions led to negotiations between church and state representatives in July 1958 (Pollack 1994a: 137 ff.). Sharp criticism of the state led the eastern church leaders to a repetition of the Protestant Church’s commitment to peace and the assertion that the Military Chaplaincy Treaty did not apply to the GDR (as there was no compulsory military service at the time). The Treaty on Military Chaplaincy was invoked by the center to pressure the eastern territorial churches to split from the EKD and, in turn, show allegiance to the East German state and its peace policy. This eventually led, to paraphrase Zylberberg (1993), to a “gallicanization” of the churches in the GDR.4 Prominent commentators on the military chaplaincy debate claim that “the Military Chaplaincy Treaty was the beginning of the end of the EKD” (Noack 1993). This event certainly marked the beginning of a rupture within the churches (Pollack 1994a), which was sealed by the erection of the “antifascist protection wall” and the creation of an East German church federation in 1969. “Armed Peace”: Dramatization and Extension Notwithstanding the talks held in 1958, the party-state eventually introduced compulsory military conscription in the National People’s Army (NVA) on 24

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January 1962. Service in the socialist army was pronounced a “service of honor” (Ehrendienst). Defense, “armed peace,” was to be institutionalized and became state policy. As Honecker paradigmatically stated in 1978, “There is no area of our social life which is not penetrated by the interests of the national defense!” (quoted in Eisenfeld 1997b: 559).5 Comprehensive measures such as the introduction of military instruction in schools and activities of a military nature during work and leisure time were instated (Eisenfeld 1997b: 560). Shortly after the 1978 church-state summit between Schönherr and Honecker, a new defense bill was passed to establish military instruction in schools. These new principles concerning defense were now extended to include youth and workers. A 1982 bill on defense was also enacted to include the mobilization of women in the event of war. Defense policy now included the whole population of the GDR.

… And the Legitimatization of the Churches’ Peace Work Chapter II gave an outline of the emergence, consolidation, and normalization of church-state relations during the 1970s. The motto “Church in socialism” proved to be a malleable guiding metaphor advocating both an attitude of accommodation and opposition to state socialism—ambivalence sometimes expressed through the formula of “critical solidarity.” A wide spectrum of interpretations coexisted, ranging from Mitzenheim’s conciliatory position toward the state, to Schönherr’s, and to Falcke’s support of grassroots groups. There was consensus among all players on the peace issue, but they differed as to the best means of dealing with it. The church participated in the official peace activities at the international level and at the domestic one.6 Furthermore, it organized its own activities such as seminars, workshops, peace masses, and prayers. People partaking in the church activities objected to what they saw as the “militarization of society.”7 They contended that “armed peace” was an oxymoron given that, by definition, peace excludes violence. Against this contextual background, a peace movement emerged through both promotion and opposition from church leadership. The church leaders rejected the western label of an “independent peace movement” and insisted on avoiding confrontation with the party-state (Zander 1989: 322). Dialogue was sought with the Marxists, a wish shared by grassroots groups (see Büscher and Wensierski 1984). However, by advancing their own definition and in casting light on the vicissitudes of the state peace policy, the churches and grassroots groups inevitably challenged the official view. The differences in the proper interpretation of peace and the conflict between institutions (pacifism versus militarism) was sparked off by the introduction of the “socialist service of honor” and military instruction in schools. The Protestant churches’ request for an alternative community or peace service became a mobilizing issue and a point of friction between church and state, the importance of which will become evident in the second part of this chapter.

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Relying on the constitution, which defended freedom of conscience, the Protestant Church leadership petitioned the party-state for the introduction of an alternative community service (see documents in Eisenfeld 1978).8 The principles of state socialism, however, implied that military service was actually a service for peace. Using this logic, there was no place for conscientious objection. Young men who refused the Ehrendienst were therefore threatened with prison sentences.9 In 1964, however, mounting pressure and the refusal of approximately 3,000 young men to serve, led the party-state to establish unarmed construction units (Bausoldaten) within the National People’s Army. The unarmed soldiers wore a badge with a spade symbol on their uniform.10 The “spade soldiers” had to swear to “invest all their strengths in increasing the [country’s] defense readiness,” to vow “absolute obedience” to their superiors, and to swear an oath of allegiance to the East German flag (Eisenfeld 1997b: 119). Moreover, they were overtly assigned to military projects and were notoriously monitored, and harassed, and access to university and some careers was restricted. Although the unarmed military service had not the character of a civil one, the Protestant churches’ demands were nonetheless temporarily subdued. The discussion resurfaced when the SED introduced military instruction as part of a new defense bill to enhance the defense preparedness of society and when groups “squatting” under the umbrella of the church started to strive for a “genuine” alternative to military service (Koch and Neugebauer 1993: 132; Mechtenberg 1982: 387).11 The Pastoral Care of Military Conscripts Pastoral care of military conscripts, both Protestant and Catholic, was provided by parishes near the military basis or through letters from a conscript’s home parish (Mechtenberg 1982). Nothing resembling the “military chaplaincy” in the West existed, nor were there legal provisions for church access to the army.12 Occasional attempts were made to introduce military chaplaincy, but in general, neither church leadership nor grassroots groups sought it.13 The pastoral care of military conscripts therefore remained exclusively a church activity. The limits and responsibilities between the work with conscripts and other church activities with youth, students, and peace groups were blurred and are, therefore, difficult to assess. Former Bausoldaten organized discussion groups and provided materials for parishes and conscripts (Eisenfeld 1978: 103). Many of them later became key figures in peace activities and groups (Neubert and Fricke 1997: 941). There were close connections between Bausoldaten, those seeking to leave the GDR (Ausreiseantragssteller), alternative youth and grassroots groups. However, it should be stated that while many Bausoldaten were Christians, relatively few Christians were Bausoldaten (Eisenfeld 1978: 79). The vast majority of Christians completed their military service, although there were few, if any, officers affiliated with a church.14 Similarly, the vast majority of Christian parents did not apply for exemption for their children from military training in schools, although an exemption option had been granted to the church on the basis of freedom of conscience.

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In an attempt to provide guidance to young men doing their military service, Protestant Church leadership issued “Zum Friedensdienst der Kirche,” an advisory statement on the pastoral care of military conscripts (reproduced in Körting, Eschler et al. 1995: 25-28). The effects of this advisory statement on the parishes are difficult to evaluate—it has been argued that it had little bearing on the parishes (Koch and Neugebauer 1993: 130)—15 but it has been described as a seminal document in church literature (Mechtenberg 1982). In the statement, the episcopacy stresses that the church must demonstrate a commitment to “real” peace. The role of the church was summed up in the words: “to completely demystify the soldier’s life” (reproduced in Körting, Eschler et al. 1995: 27). To this effect, conscientious objection was advocated as preferable to military service. Pacifism—the total rejection of militarism—gradually became the Bund’s official position. By 1981, all East German territorial churches had endorsed the idea of a “social peace service” proposal. Although military service was said to be legitimate, the unarmed service, if not total rejection of military service, was considered a “clearer signal for peace.” The Halle Synod of 1982 rejected the “spirit, logic, and practice of deterrence.” The 1982 document, “Leitfaden zur seelsorgerischen Beratung in Fragen des Wehrdienstes und der Wehrerziehung,” reiterated the principles laid out in the 1965 advisory statement (Koch and Neugebauer 1993: 130). This position was strengthened at the Görlitz Synod in 1987 where the Bund issued a paper entitled “Bekennen in der Friedensfrage.” In it, the Bund confidently proclaimed: Under the circumstances, the church supports the promotion and protection of peace without violence. Each Christian who confronts the issue of the military service must consider whether his decision can be reconciled with the gospel of peace. He who, as a Christian, enters military service and bears arms must consider whether and how he contributes to the reduction and prevention of violence and how this might assist in the development of a peaceful and just international order. The church considers the decision of Christians to refuse to bear weapons or to refuse to serve in the army as a sign of obedience to a faith, which promotes peace (quoted in BEK in der DDR 1989: 255).

Pacifism was also proclaimed in a resolution of the “Conciliar Process on Justice, Peace, and the Integrity of Creation” (1988-1989) that stated: “Military conscripts who, under the current circumstances, refuse to serve in the army justify their decision through the gospel ... in this way, exercising a prophetical duty” (quoted in Noack 1997: 150-151). It should be noted that the statements issued by the Bund were stronger than those of the EKD. The official position of the EKD rested on the thesis of complementarity as laid out in the “Heidelberg Theses.” The complementarity thesis asserts that both the rejection and the use of military means can be justified. With regard to military service, the decision to serve in the army was left to the draftee’s conscience (Koch and Neugebauer 1993: 129). This tension regarding the “clearer signal for peace” was a source of conflict between the two organizations.16

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The institutionalization of the church’s interpretation of peace and its related organizing principles (nonviolence as opposed to militarization, military deterrence, and peaceful coexistence) crystallized, domestically, in the demand for a “peace service” as the “clearest signal” for peace. The church’s statements, however, were followed by counteractions as the commitment to peace impinged on the principles of the “Church in socialism.” Goeckel observes in this way that “the church also modified course to reflect the concerns of mainstream parishioners. For example, it halted the trend toward pacifism ... it relativized the church’s earlier support for unarmed service as the ‘clearer signal’ of peace and contradicted its earlier doctrinal position rejecting nuclear deterrence” (1990a: 269). Critics of the pacifist trend argued that, although the issue of peace was important, the church had to be cautious not to jeopardize the principles of the “Church in socialism” and the fragile equilibrium between church and state. From this viewpoint, they argued, the project of a service for peace should not be abandoned, but “externalized” to the future. This tug-of-war between the commitment to peace, good relations with the party-state, and also the different interpretations conferred onto the motto the “Church in socialism” led commentators to conclude that the Protestant Church acted as both a channel and a domesticator of dissent (Goeckel 1990a: 247). The Churches’ Peace Arena and the Practicing Nonbelievers The limits of the “Church in socialism” are also manifest in the churches’ interactions with the “practicing nonbelievers,” the peace movement, and other groups (advocating for ecology, women, Third World interests, and human rights),17 particularly in the movement that emerged around the symbol of “Swords into Plowshares.” This movement presents us with a paradigmatic example. In 1981, the Protestant Church organized peace weeks that successfully mobilized youth opposed to the militarization of society under the motto of “Swords into Plowshares” (see Fricke 1984: 199 ff.). The name of the movement was biblical in origin but shared symbols tolerated in the GDR because of their use in the Soviet Union. The event, as well as the use of the symbol, infuriated the state authorities. Secretary of Church Affairs Klaus Gysi complained that the church was misusing the symbol to weaken general defense readiness in the GDR (Mechtenberg 1982: 391), and the movement was suppressed.18 The church in turn backed down. Grassroots groups interpreted this gesture as a lack of commitment on the part of the church, and a period of resignation ensued. Within the church itself, some saw the grassroots groups as parasites, while others enthusiastically welcomed this new form of church life with its parallel structure to the parish. Recalling the equivocal interpretation of the “Church in socialism,” Bishop Krusche had already stressed in 1978 the importance of maintaining the independence from the state in order to foster a credible and critical position and to avoid the danger of abandoning the true interests of the church (in Ramet 1987: 84). Until now, I have dealt with only the Bund and Protestant territorial churches. This is due to the Catholic episcopacy’s promotion of “political abstinence.”

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There was no pastoral letter specifically addressing the issue of military service or the defense policy in general which, as Schäfer (1999: 238ff. also Pilvousek 2001: 19) points out, evoked some criticism. A resolution, entitled “Dienst der Kirche für Versöhnung und Frieden,” was passed at the Dresden Pastoral Synod in 1975 in which the authors appealed to the consciences of young men. More generally, the synod adopted a critical position on atomic warfare and the notion of a “just war” (gerechter Krieg). The position stated in the resolution was actually quite similar to that of the Protestant Church. Reifying the dangers of being instrumentalized by the SED, the pronouncements of the Pastoral Synod were silenced under the helm of Bengsch and the Bishops’ Conference. Consequently, the pronouncements were not addressed to the parishes. Some groups, such as “Justitia et pax” and “Aktionskreis Halle,” made pronouncements for peace (Richter 1982), but they were on the whole fairly marginal and submitted to the harsh policy of their church (see Grütz 2002). The silence of the episcopacy on the issue of military service contrasts with its position on the introduction of military instruction in schools (and the Jugendweihe). The bishops pronounced against what they saw as an “education to hate” and appealed to the constitutionally enshrined freedom of conscience and parents’ rights concerning their children (Lange et al. 1993: 294-296) while insisting on the parents’ responsibility to counter the general atmosphere of violence. Bengsch’s replacement as head of the Bishops’ Conference and the election of a new pope led to a greater openness in the 1980s. The bishops pronounced on peace in a few statements during the 1980s (Zander 1989: 300 ff.). In its 1983 message commemorating the Church’s World Peace Day, Bausoldaten and objection to conscription are mentioned (Lange et al. 1993: 306-311). Bishop Theissing and Bishop Wanke issued further declarations (1992: 120ff.). The Catholic diocese of Dresden-Meißen issued a “Pastoral Note on the Pastoral Care of Military Conscripts” that provided information concerning the Bausoldaten option, stating the law as well as the rights and duties of unarmed soldiers (Richter 1982: 687).19 Also in 1982, the bishop of Erfurt stressed the importance of peace on the personal level. At that time, he attempted to define the church’s position as not endorsing absolute pacifism, but he did mention freedom of conscience and the Bausoldaten option (reproduced in Wanke 1992: 143). In brief, the Bausoldat option was recognized, although it was not seen as “the clearer signal for peace” (Lange et al. 1993: 306). In spite of more openness, these declarations remained timid in comparison to those issued by the Protestants. The bishops’ reservations did not, however, impede lay Catholics from participating in the “Protestant arena.” A NOTE ON THE AUTONOMIZATION OF THE PEACE ISSUE In spite of criticism and setbacks, the peace movement moved forward. Peace activities were not, however, limited to Christians: “practicing nonbelievers,” to paraphrase Patrick Michel (1988), as well as diverse groups closely or loosely associated with the church such as “women for peace,” individuals and groups in

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East Berlin, Jena, and other cities throughout the GDR also joined in. The cooperation between the Protestant churches and the grassroots groups reached its zenith at the “Conciliar Process.”20 At this moment, Catholic Church leadership—as well as the free churches (Freikirchen)—followed suit and engaged in discussions on peace. In the wake of the “Conciliar Process,” the peace issue also took on a transnational dimension (Duchrow 1999). The movement eventually moved outside church walls and came closer to new groups, contributing to the constitution of a society beside the state.21 The legitimacy of the former guardian of the movement, the church, was on the wane. As North and DiMaggio (1990: 5) point out, the breaking loose of institutions [guiding metaphors] from organizations is an important factor for change. The church gradually lost its ambivalent role as cloaking unofficial society. Criticism was already widespread within the church ranks, lamenting that the church officials had not gone far enough for fear of impeding the modus vivendi between the church and the party-state. The ambivalence between accommodation and opposition in the end proved irreconcilable: peace transcended the church’s guiding metaphor and spilled over onto its organization and principles. By taking up the notion of peace, grassroots groups not only identified the vicissitudes of the regime’s domestic and foreign policy, they succeeded in eroding the party-state’s interpretative monopoly (see Maser 1997b: 602). As the institutional order teetered, the SED sought to retain control and organized parallel peace demonstrations, made use of repression, and opened the escape valve—the Berlin wall—to rid itself of dissenting voices. In a last move to control the situation, Krenz, Honecker’s successor as head of the Politburo, pronounced himself in favor of the creation of a community service and, more importantly, for the eventual disentanglement of the party-state-society triad, underlying the institutional order of the GDR.22 THE HERITAGE OF THE “WENDE”: THE STATUS QUO MINUS The collapse of the GDR and the existing world order was synchronized with a weakening interest in the “Conciliar process” (Maser 1997b: 602). The experiences and rhetoric of the “Conciliar process,” however, informed the spirit of the discussions that followed (Quint 1997; Seifert 2000; Thaysen 2000). The pacifist movement found a new organizational home at the “round tables” and in the first freely elected parliament of the GDR. By the same token, the disestablishment of the SED monopoly conferred power on the carriers of the “peaceful revolution.” The first measures taken by the newly formed coalition government were to get rid of negative elements, including symbols of the SED-dominated system, and to enact those changes that had been discussed during the late 1980s. For example, in February 1990, the Council of Ministers passed a resolution to introduce community service. Previous church demands including a demand for community service of twelve months’ duration that did not require any form of justification were taken into account.23 The first freely elected government added to the constitution’s basic rights that “no person may be forced to serve in the armed forces” and promoted disarmament. Significantly, the Ministry of Defense

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was renamed “Ministry for Disarmament and Defense” (see document reproduced in Thaysen 2000: 669)—and was headed by Rainer Eppelmann, a pastor and peace activist (see Eppelmann 1993: 387 ff.). Previously, groups represented at the central round table, the organ set up to draft a new constitution and prepare the way for free elections (Thaysen 1990), suggested that the symbol “Swords into Plowshares” be part of the crest of a reformed GDR. Most grassroots, the newly formed groups and political parties as well as the Protestant churches, did not generally oppose the foregoing system as a whole. Consequently, the institutional order they sought could be summarized as “status quo minus”: the institutional order of the GDR combined with the positive experiences of the “Wende.”24 Commentators and actors have often criticized the East German churches for not being prepared for unification. It was alleged that they had no new societal model for a future GDR or unified Germany (see, for instance, Schröder 1994a: 261). That might be true. However, the allegation overlooks churches’ suggestions for the future made on the basis of their past experiences. For instance, the provisions for community service developed in the GDR were considered a good solution for all of Germany (Kruse 1990: 7; Synode der EvangelischLutherischen Landeskirche Mecklenburgs 1990: 29). At this point, the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts was not a matter of discussion. Since it was primarily orientated at those refusing to serve in the army, it had lost some of its relevance. More importantly, one need not dwell long on the debates that took place in the wake of ecclesiastical and political unification to notice that ideas and concepts had indeed emerged. And in spite of the links and the much-praised Protestant “special community” as well as the Catholic organizational unity, the institutional order of the GDR gave rise to guiding metaphors that stood in stark contrast with those prevalent in the West (Wollbold 2000: 55). In the course of the talks prior to the reestablishment of the churches’ unity, discussions were engaged in with regard to which organizing principles should be maintained, consolidated, or discarded. Whereas neither the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts in the East nor the Military Chaplaincy Agreement in the West were matters of contention until then, they then experienced a sensational comeback. Just as the Bausoldaten had contributed to a wide discussion on peace and, to some extent, to the destabilization of state socialism, the disagreement on the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts and the validity of the Military Chaplaincy Treaty in the East stirred a discussion on the public role of the church in a reunified Germany as well as church-state relations.

The Reestablishment of the Churches’ Unity and the Polarization of Positions Toward Military Chaplaincy The reestablishment of unity was difficult for the Protestants. Depending on the actors’ viewpoint, it was described as either unification or restoration. In June

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1991, the two church federations nevertheless reached agreement, and unification was completed, although not consolidated. Yet, the synod of the eastern church federation failed to reach agreement on one issue: the validity of the Military Chaplaincy Treaty. On several occasions, the Bund reiterated its commitment to the 1987 paper “Bekennen in der Friedensfrage” (see the resolution of the synod of the Bund reproduced in Körting, Eschler et al. 1995). The 1957 Military Chaplaincy Treaty was finally rejected by the eastern churches—as it had been from some western churches.25 Two polarized positions emerged: the proponents of the East German status quo advocated a model referred to as the “pastoral care of soldiers” (Soldatenseelsorge) that corresponded to the practice prevailing in the former GDR. Accordingly, the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts should take place within the community under the direction of the local pastor and the supervision of the territorial church.26 Proponents of reform promoted a model analogous to the West German praxis in accordance with the 1957 Military Chaplaincy Agreement. Under this treaty, chaplains have the status of civil servant for the duration of their five-year contract, work within the Bundeswehr, and depend on the Ministry of Defense. To defenders of the East German status quo, the possible introduction of military chaplaincy stood in sharp contrast with the pacifist line they had previously promoted (Demke, Falkenau, and Zeddies 1995: 143; Mehrle 1998: 164). A pacifist policy could not be applied to the army and, from this viewpoint, community service—or objection to conscription—should be privileged over military service (Falcke 1991: 103). As a group of Christians pointed out in a letter to the synod of the Bund in 1991, “The Treaty on Military Chaplaincy must ‘assume that atomic deterrence and the refusal to serve in the army are equivalent on an ethical level’ to be legitimized. This argument will be countered with the refusal to serve in the army as the ‘clearer signal for the discipleship of Jesus’” (quoted in Mehrle 1998: 103). There was, however, consensus concerning the necessity of providing pastoral care to soldiers and conscripts. By way of example, the synod of the Evangelical Church in Berlin-Brandenburg commented, “The different, even opposed, positions within our church toward weapons, war, and the use of violence do not exempt the church from its responsibility to provide pastoral care to soldiers” (Evangelische Kirche in Berlin-Brandenburg 1994: 5; see also Falcke 1991). The discussion evolved throughout the deliberations and, within the parameters set by the institutional order, the religious actors repeatedly attempted to reformulate “what was at stake” using rhetorical devices.27 Discussions passed through several phases: at first, a position was taken on peace, then on the public role of the church and, finally, on church-state relations and the status of the chaplain. As no compromise seemed to be found but an agreement to disagree, the first synod of the renewed EKD suggested in November 1991 that a “Commission on the Future of the Military Chaplaincy” should be set up and discussions be engaged in all territorial churches. This commission was mandated to review the Treaty on Military Chaplaincy and to propose a common solution that would

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take into account both the experiences in the West following the treaty and the “Conciliar experience” in the East (see document reproduced in Demke, Falkenau and Zeddies). The commission was to report to the federal synod of the EKD in Osnabrück in November 1993 (Mehrle 1998: 118; N.N. 1994a). A dispute broke out that reached its height after the presentation of the report and before the following year’s synod. The Catholic Church, for its part, adopted the western standard, and military chaplaincy was extended to the East. Four or five full-time chaplains were appointed to the largest military bases in the new federal states. On the other bases, parish priests were designated to assist the chaplains on a part-time basis (N.N. 1991a: 10).28 The Protestant Commission on the Future of the Military Chaplaincy decided to formally ignore, or externalize, general considerations on peace (the socalled “ethics of peace”) from its agenda. Pacifism was seen as a nonnegotiable value and could therefore not be debated. The commission argued that a debate on the ethics of peace could not be limited to its work and the issue of military chaplaincy, as it constituted a task for the whole church. Projects were initiated to draft a memorandum on the issue.29 Paraphrasing an expression widely used in transformation studies, the decision to externalize this aspect of the discussion can be described as a “path-dependent” decision (see Lehmbruch 1994b; Wollmann 1996) that set the parameters for future debate. Indeed, it exerted considerable influence on the future course of events. From that time on, the accent shifted from pacifism to the more mundane religious character of military chaplaincy and its organizing principles. The protagonists focused on the status of the chaplain as either civil servant or church employee and, to a lesser degree, the so-called lebenskundlicher Unterricht—an instruction dealing with the search for sense in life—provided by chaplains in the army and the role of the ecclesiastical office within the Bundeswehr (Kirchenamt), the organization supervising the work of military chaplains. Although circumscribed, the debate on the validity of the Military Chaplaincy Treaty and its organizing principles extended to a broader discussion on church-state relations in the new Germany. The debate on the pastoral care of soldiers and military chaplaincy is paradigmatic by nature. The remainder of the chapter shall examine how religious actors have attempted to institutionalize and deinstitutionalize organizing principles, what has been referred to as the “politics of institutionalization.” Because of the general nature of this debate, to some extent this account could be extended to a more general discussion on church guiding metaphors and the transformations they have undergone.

The Rhetoric of Institutionalization and Deinstitutionalization Looking at conflict and its manifestation through debate, the general patterns of arguments or rhetoric materialize between proponents of the status quo and those of reform. In his book, The Rhetoric of Reaction, Albert O. Hirschman

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(1991) provides a powerful instrument to analyze the rhetoric of Protestants and Catholics. He initially sets out to expose and dissect the conservative rhetoric in order to demonstrate its fallacious nature. But, in the course of the endeavor, he also delineates the rhetoric of the progressives he had set out to defend. Unlike many previous scholars studying conservatism, Hirschman shows that discourse is not shaped by “conservative personalities” but by what he calls “the imperatives of the arguments.”30 In this way, Hirschman disentangles personality traits and interests from institutions. He distinguishes three patterns of argument that are typically invoked by reactionaries seeking to maintain the status quo: jeopardy, perversity, and futility. Hirschman stresses that the arguments can be used “by any group that opposes or criticizes new policy proposals or newly enacted policies” (1991: 7) and can be embraced by actors regardless of their actual validity or efficiency.31 These patterns of argumentation are matched with another triad characteristic of the advocates of reform: the synergy illusion, the imminentdanger thesis, and, once again, the futility argument. These pairs of arguments, he writes, “have considerable intrinsic appeal because they hitch onto powerful myths ... and influential interpretative formulas” (1991: 166). Furthermore, they draw on scientific authority as the patterns of the arguments are invoked by actors and social commentators in a double hermeneutics (see also Bourdieu, Passeron, and Saint Martin 1994; Giddens 1984: 284) that informs the ongoing discussion. This is particularly true if they are simultaneously actors and commentators, as is often the case for sociologists of religion. The three pairs of arguments described by Hirschman are materialized through interactions: they respond to each other. The first argument identified by defenders of the status quo, jeopardy, states that the proposed reform threatens older reforms that have proven their worth. Reactionaries therefore argue that there is no need for quick change. They may also state that no one knows what the new reform will bring. Jeopardy’s counterargument, the synergy illusion, advocates that new and old reforms will mutually reinforce each other (Hirschman 1991: 167), an idea understood in the German expression “sowohl-alsauch.” The second argument, the perversity thesis, claims that reform will not bring the intended effect, but its exact opposite. The attitude is concisely epitomized in the formula “ceci tuera cela” or the “zero-sum game” and the belief that “everything backfires.” Advocates of the antithesis of perversity, the imminentdanger thesis, point to the potential dangers of inaction. The third line of argument, futility, is invoked by advocates of both status quo and reform. It asserts that the status quo—or reform, depending on your point of view—is bound to be ineffective in the end for it runs counter to the laws of motion—or inertia (Hirschman 1991: 155). This typology allows for the reconstruction of debates to see which organizing principles become manifest and are advocated while pointing to the differences between Catholic and Protestant patterns of argumentation and attitudes to the new institutional order. Patterns of argumentation vary according to the situation: the sanctions available (such as time, money, and legal means) and the possibility of externalizing

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conflict to other spheres and limiting the context, that is, the ability of institutional entrepreneurs to manipulate definitions and to use available standards of virtue. The types of arguments advanced, not their actual validity or efficiency, should be useful in understanding “the politics of institutionalization.” It should be noted that the arguments are expounded in a non-“ideal speech situation,” as the expression “politics of institutions” tacitly attests. In sum, the rhetoric is contextual and materialized through interaction. In the following account, I shall, for clarity’s sake, present the arguments of the status quo, followed by those of reform. As Protestants dominated the discussion on the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts, unless otherwise indicated, I shall refer to them. The Proponents of the Status Quo: “The Conservative Revolutionaries” Marshaling the arguments of the proponents of the East German status quo in the discussion on the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts, one cannot fail to notice the actors’ use of the jeopardy, futility, and perversity theses. Defenders of the status quo often argued that the consequences of reform, in this case the extension of the Military Chaplaincy Treaty to the East, were unacceptable as they might entail great loss. They feared that what they routinely referred to as “das Bewährte” might be deinstitutionalized, in other words, jeopardized. The “East German institutions” constituted, they claimed, a radical break with the history of German Protestantism. There was, for instance, a military church in Prussia (see Müller-Kent 1990). The valuable reforms undertaken in the GDR, above all the separation of church and state and the conception of a “minority church” and its related principles—the voluntary character of the church’s offers, the critical stance of the organization, and its preference for the poor and the weak—were now endangered. To be sure, defenders of the East German institutions agreed in principle to the necessity of providing pastoral care to military conscripts. That being said, they stressed that reform should be carried out with extreme caution. The pastoral care of conscripts by the parishes, as practiced in the GDR, had, its defenders claimed, withstood the test of time. It was advocated that the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts was genuinely a church activity. It had therefore to be carried out in the Christian community under the charge of an employee of the church. In short, it had to be integrated into local parish life and conceived as a service to soldiers and conscripts, and not as a church privilege (Evangelische Kirche in Berlin-Brandenburg 1994: 4). This position was supported by all the eastern churches as organizations and a great deal of Christians in the East, but also in the West. For the purpose of my account, I primarily refer to key statements issued by church figures such as Axel Noack, one of the two chairmen of the Protestant Commission on the Future of the Military Chaplaincy, as well as a former pastor in the GDR and the bishop in Magdeburg since 1997; Bishop Werner Krusche and Christoph Demke, two former bishops of Magdeburg; Heino Falcke, former provost in Erfurt; and Helmut Zeddies, secretary of the Bund, to illustrate the stand of the supporters of the status quo in the literature reviewed.

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In the presentation of their arguments, the defenders of East German institutions took a moral stance. They injected value into their practices and what they called the “heritage of the GDR and the ‘Wende.’” They championed what they judged as a modern interpretation of the church’s role and a promising, if not inevitable, path for the churches in the West. Their own experiences of secularization, they claimed, had proven worthwhile. In other words, they argued the futility of undertaking reforms and pointed out the absurdity of a “people’s church” given the low membership. In so doing, they downplayed the differences between East and West Germany and argued that church membership in the West did not correlate with high religiosity (see, for instance, Krusche 1990: 15). In contrast, they presented the “minority church” as the model of the future, a dress rehearsal for the time to come in the West.32 Exponents of the status quo advocated that a separation of church and state would confer the church a better position to deal with the future.33 Taking up an old discussion going back to the beginning of the FRG, they stated that the Military Chaplaincy Treaty pointed to an institution in crisis: the “people’s church.” Noack paradigmatically claims, “He [Brakelmann, a western theologian] states so simply—in line with liberal Protestantism—that we, the church, must strive to fill these positions, so as not to lose ground. We abandoned this approach twenty years ago” (1993: 63). Protestant defenders of the status quo pointed to the theological credentials of the Bund and the territorial churches (see also Falcke 1997: 105 ff.).34 Some Catholics had similar arguments concerning pastoral activities developed in the East, especially regarding forms of religious instruction (see below and Wollbold 2000). By simultaneously arguing in favor of their past model and future reforms for all of Germany, exponents of the East German status quo can be described as “conservative revolutionaries.” In presenting their case for the East German status quo and against reform in situations such as the extension of the Military Chaplaincy Treaty to the East, religious actors made great use of the perversity argument. Status quo advocates stated that engaging in reform would necessarily involve close cooperation with the state. And contrary to claims by proponents of reform, they did not feel that they would reach more people, but rather would lose the credibility they had gained in opposing the GDR regime and in working together with grassroots groups. Cooperation with the state could imperil the credibility of the church and its message. In short, it might leave the impression that the church had sold out in exchange for privileges (N.N. 1993b: 705; see also Pollack 1998: 246). Yet, the churches’ experiences at the forefront of peace activities and participating in the “Conciliar Process” were said to have led to the people’s revolution and also to have guaranteed its peaceful nature. This was undeniably seen as a “positive experience of the GDR and the ‘Wende’” and a highly praised form of church activities beside the parochial ones (see Falcke 1997). As we will see, proponents of the status quo also drew on the jeopardy thesis to argue that proposed reforms might impinge on the critical role of the organization and the voluntary nature of church activities.

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The argumentation set forth by Axel Noack, one of the most prominent critics of military chaplaincy, paradigmatically highlights the perversity thesis. Noack claims that the church’s relation to the state and financial dependence entailed in the Treaty of Military Chaplaincy were bound to have a pernicious effect. In accordance with the motto “Privileges leads to dependency” (Noack 1993: 69), he argues that the Military Chaplaincy Treaty was bound to put strains on the gospel. He claimed that state financing would necessarily neutralize the message of the church, and imperil its independence and, therefore, its ability to uphold a critical stance. Indeed, he adds, speaking out freely, expressing opinions on war, the army, and armament would be curtailed (Noack 1993: 64). This concern was also formulated by Helmut Zeddies, the secretary of the Bund, in a letter to the minister of defense of the FRG in June 1991 demanding the right of the parishes to carry on pastoral care of soldiers. The minister of defense had acquiesced to the eastern churches’ desire until a decision was agreed upon all German territorial churches. He did, however, request that the church “unconditionally recognize and respect the decision to serve in the military” (reproduced in Demke, Falkenau, and Zeddies 1995: 147). Zeddies replied that this condition was irreconcilable with the church’s position and message and could not, from a theological point of view, direct pastoral work (reproduced in Demke, Falkenau, and Zeddies 1995: 148).35 Advocates of the status quo all agreed that the critical position of the church should not be put to test. They also agreed that the voluntary nature of the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts should be preserved. Noack warned that, in the case of the military chaplaincy, direct or indirect pressure might be exerted on the part of the army officers so that their subordinates take part in the church activities as those who do not participate in church activities are generally confined to other less agreeable tasks.36 Anticipating the argument according to which the military chaplaincy is for the people not for the church, Noack commented that people who have lived under the SED rule did not want to be patronized again. In referring to the experience of the Jugendweihe in the GDR, Noack said, “we knew that in the GDR: everything for the well-being of the people. But the people were never asked what constitutes their well-being. So for this reason, I’m quite skeptical about this point” (1993: 68). In short, the protagonists of the status quo pointed to the pernicious effects of reform for the churches’ credibility, their critical stance, and the voluntary character of their activities. THE STATUS OF THE CHAPLAIN Throughout the discussions, severe criticism was leveled against the reformers concerning the status of the military chaplain, as indicator of the religious character of the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts. In addition to the status of the chaplain, the structure of the ecclesiastical office within the Bundeswehr and the so-called lebenskundlicher Unterricht were also subject to harsh criticism.37 Defenders of the East German status quo questioned the integrity of the chaplains within the frame of the Military Chaplaincy Treaty—they are civil servants. Noack

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asserts a double loyalty on the part of military chaplains despite claims to the contrary by western chaplains. He questions the integrity of the practitioners who claim the treaty does not impair their work when he claims, “people who work in it [the military chaplaincy] won’t say they’re not free!” Moreover, he continues, “those who say it stood the test of time forget that aspects are not dealt with” (Noack 1993: 65). For instance, it is a known fact—pace Noack—that military chaplains are isolated from the clergy as a whole, just as soldiers from their local or home parish. Bishop Noack trenchantly states, “When the soldiers are not at home in the parish, then the pastoral care of soldiers is no success.” Bishop Demke makes a general criticism of western military chaplaincy as too specialized and isolated from the church as a whole (similarly, Falcke 1997: 111). In an interview, he recalls the positive experiences of commissions within the Bund.38 When attacked on the grounds that their institutions were established under pressure from the SED, defenders of the status quo typically infuse the “East German experiences” with value while stressing their intentional character and origin. Institutionalizing is, in the words of Selznic, to “infuse with value” (quoted in Scott 1987: 494).39 The Proponents of Reform: “The Inveterate Optimists” Unlike exponents of the status quo, proponents of reform were convinced of the value and necessity of the military chaplaincy. They alternatively drew on the synergy illusion, the imminent-danger thesis, and the futility argument. To the defenders of “das Bewährte,” they stressed that the military chaplaincy, as practiced in the West, presented a unique chance for mission in East Germany and a challenge for the church. In making their case, the reformers portrayed the former GDR as a “land of opportunity.” From this viewpoint, those socialized under state socialism were perceived to be in need of spiritual answers and guidance. Through military chaplaincy a dialogue between Christians and non-Christians is said, at least, to be made possible in East Germany (Weidel 1993: 25). Military chaplains, and other Christians working on behalf of the church in public agencies, they stressed, served as “social multipliers” (Neubert 2000b: 16; Ottemeyer 1994). From this perspective, they argued that the 1957 Treaty on Military Chaplaincy constituted a solid foundation for their work guaranteeing unhindered pastoral care: church access to military bases, financing, and teaching possibilities. The Basic Law both guarantees that “no person may be forced to participate” in church activities offered in public organizations and that participation to church activities be scheduled into the army program to reach many people (see Article 140 in Appendix IV). Proponents of reform requested that the church be readily available to everyone as the people’s church, that is, a church for the people.40 In any case, they insisted that a demand exists—especially as soldiers from the West come to the East—and that soldiers should not be let down (Binder 1994; Graf 1993; Schröder 1994b). In sum, the defenders of reform did not accept the relegation of religion and morality to the private sphere. The church, they said, must be represented in public organizations to make its voice heard and have a say in decisions (Huber 1996: 578).

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THE SANGUINE RHETORIC OF CATHOLICS The Catholics decidedly strove for reform. There were certainly critics of the Treaty on Military Chaplaincy, but they were not, as a Catholic military chaplain points out, 41 nearly as vociferous as within the Protestant churches. From the beginning, the Catholic hierarchy pronounced itself in favor of extending western military chaplaincy practices to the East (Sterzinsky in N.N. 1991a: 10). And so it happened: the Reichskonkordat and the spirit of the 1957 treaty were reactivated. More generally, they saw the Basic Law of the FRG as a good foundation for church and society (Wanke 1998; also Konrad Weiß in N.N. 1990b). Given the policy of “political abstinence” of the Catholic episcopacy in the GDR, military chaplaincy could be seen to symbolize a new ecclesiastic paradigm although, as Richter rightly points out (1989: 1240), the episcopacy would probably not use this terminology. Indeed, in the pastoral letters issued between the fall of the Berlin Wall and German unification (Lange et al. 1993: 362-413), the East German bishops focused on the continuity of action and attitudes (Thériault 2000a: 169). In a much-anticipated public declaration (31 December 1989) on the position of the Catholic Church in the GDR and its role in political turmoil, the bishops explained, “the same principles determine our past and our current behavior. In the past, they made us take a clear position of refusal in relation to the power claims of the socialist state under SED control and limit our relations to discussions on particular topics when it was absolutely necessary. Today, in view of the development toward a democratic and open society, we are required to commit ourselves to cooperation” (reproduced in Lange et al. 1993: 393).42 In contrast with their “reactionary” fellows, Catholic proponents of reform exhibited a positive attitude as well as faith in the future (see Thériault 1999: 6; Wanke 2000: 120). They typically portrayed themselves as a minority or diaspora church with a promising future (Wanke 1992). Echoing the “spirit of the Dresden Pastoral Synod,” a member of the episcopacy who had formulated more openness in the 1980s, Bishop Wanke of Erfurt, notably recalls the motto of “the chance of the small number” (“Chance der kleinen Herde”) and stresses the proxy role of the small church for the whole community. Similarly, Wollbold, a theologian from the old Federal Republic working at the Theological Faculty in Erfurt, described East Germany as a possible model for future German Catholicism (“eine Zukunftsregion für den gesamtdeutschen Katholizismus”) (2000: 55-56). And unlike those who saw the positive experiences of the GDR endangered, the reformers advocated in the lines of the synergy argument that the new and old reforms would mutually reinforce each other (Meyer 1999; Wanke 2000; Wollbold 2000: 55). To skeptics, proponents of reform replied with a peremptory question: “can we not trust God?” (see for instance, Beck 1998: 71; Steinke 1992: 37).43 In this way, advocates of the synergy thesis presented reform as a matter of faith, thereby expelling and delegitimizing in a lapidary fashion opposition to reform.

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THE PROPONENTS OF REFORM: THE “NACHHOLENDE” REFORMERS Exponents of reform took great pains to emphasize that the Bundeswehr was not the National People’s Army (Leich 1990; Weidel 1993: 25). As representatives of the so-called Kulturprotestantismus expounded, the FRG was a democratic state and therefore not subject to the arbitrariness and vagaries of an illegitimate state such as the former GDR.44 For the representatives of liberal Protestantism there was an intimate connection between bourgeois liberal values and principles (individualism and freedom) and Protestantism as represented by the Federal Republic.45 Under the motto “Support what serves freedom” (“Stützen, was der Freiheit dient”), Trutz Rendtorff, a liberal theologian from the old Federal Republic, claims that reform should be undertaken in the former GDR in the name of freedom (1990).46 These proponents of reform argued that the liberal democratic order should not be questioned.47 They contended that the maxim of the Sermon on the Mount, “obeying God more than man” (“Gott mehr gehorchen als den Menschen”), so important to the “Confessing Church,” did not apply to a democratic state as it might have need to in the GDR or the Third Reich. They pleaded for the reassertion of the principles of the FRG in order to catch up to the past. In this sense, they could be labeled “nachholende reformers.”48 In promoting reform, the “culture Protestants” made use of an argument that kills: those who did not agree with the principles mapped in the FRG were neither democrat, liberal, nor modern. Thus, the defenders of the East German status quo were portrayed as antimodernistic and, we might argue, “conservative revolutionaries.” 49 Such arguments relativized the importance of the opposition movement that developed around the Protestant Church in the GDR. For instance, Friedrich Wilhelm Graf, a liberal theologian from the old Federal Republic who works in Munich, argues that most grassroots groups did not advance any “real” fundamental critique from the standpoint of human rights, but instead sought to reform socialism (1994b: 16, 1996: 57 ff.; also in Heidingsfeld 1993: 113).50 In accordance with the imminent-danger thesis, the antithesis of perversity, both Catholic and Protestant reformers argued that not seizing the opportunity of expanding the western military chaplaincy to the East would invite disastrous consequences. They pointed to the risks of inaction. Gorbatchow’s words, “whoever comes too late is punished by life,” were repeated on many occasions (Rendtorff 1990: 9). They stressed that the opportunities available after the demise of the GDR were unique and should not be missed. Missing this opportunity could start a domino effect, in the West also, and endanger other areas of church activity. Indeed, they argued that giving up on military chaplaincy would sound a death knell for the people’s church. Heinz-Georg Binder, a Protestant military bishop, stressed that failing to extend and reassert the Military Chaplaincy Treaty would bring disastrous consequences for the mission of the church, parity and cooperation with the Catholic Church as well as the financing of church activities. To this effect, he states that 25 million marks in state subsidies could be lost (Binder quoted in Mehrle 1998: 100). Weidel, a Protestant military chaplain, also argues in the line of the imminent-danger thesis: “We cannot, in the long

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run, leave the pastoral care of soldiers to the Catholic military chaplaincy. It contradicts our Protestant understanding of things. For this reason, a satisfying solution should be rapidly sought for the churches of the new federal states” (1993: 26). In terms of the principle of parity, several actors and commentators argued that reform would eventually affect both confessions. A REVERSAL OF PERSPECTIVES AND ARGUMENTS With political unification, a rhetorical device often expounded by proponents of reform was, in line with the futility argument, to present the defenders of the status quo with a fait accompli. According to their reading of the events, German unification meant that NATO was extended to the East along with the Bundeswehr and the 1957 Military Chaplaincy Agreement. Reformers acknowledged that it would admittedly be desirable to amend the treaty but that there was, unfortunately, no serious alternative to it. Heidingsfeld, an executive of the EKD in Berlin, also stressed that the legal situation was clear and that the Ministry of Defense was not willing to make any changes.51 The futility argument was presented, for the most part, by western actors seeking to reinstitutionalize their practices, although there were proponents of the eastern status quo both in the East and in the West as well as supporters of western reinstitutionalization on both sides.52 Reformers, for the most part, although not entirely, supported the West German status quo thus becoming reactionaries themselves. Consequently, the proponents of the western status quo argued both from the perspective of the jeopardy and imminent-danger theses, thus pointing to similarities in rhetoric.53 Although the defenders of the western system can be seen as reactionaries, the label “conservative revolutionaries” remains useful—if only as “ideal type”—to characterize the defenders of the East German model for they rejected the “modern” point of view advocated by the reformers and propounded a conception of religion and society that did not confer a normative status on modernity (understood as a rational project with liberal values and democracy at its core). The particular stance of the defenders of the East German model, combined with their moral utopianism or “ethics of conviction,” contrast with their adversaries’ pragmatic strategies and rhetoric. Proponents of the futility thesis expressed a characteristically confident tone as regards the western status quo. Hirschman points out that “reactionaries frequently argue as though they were in basic agreement with the lofty objectives of the progressives; they ‘simply’ point out that ‘unfortunately’ things are not likely to go as smoothly as is taken for granted by their ‘naive’ adversaries” (1991: 151).54 With matter-of-factness and realism, they enumerated a host of practical problems and technical details in their justification of the western status quo: the difficulty in reaching soldiers after working hours (the soldiers return home on weekends; when they do stay, they are not allowed to leave the military base; the bases are often not close to a parish church), and the great difficulty of reaching them while on maneuvers or on mission abroad. They also presented the difficulties of a pastor who must work both in the parish and with

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the army. Finally, they pointed out the tremendous amount of preparatory work for a reform that might fail anyway.55 In brief, advocates of the western status quo argued that a reform would be welcome but was simply not feasible. In addition, they asked two “decisive questions” that stressed the complexity of the issue at hand and the limits of time and resources: how was the East German model to be organized? And, especially, how would it be financed? Confronted with the “dictate of reason” and the argument that things were too complicated to be altered, Noack retorted, “the popular appeal to simplicity and clarity can, in view of the complicated issue at stake, take on demagogical traits” (1997: 160). The bishop also stressed, “it also numbs theological discussion when everything is immediately to be converted into practical policy. Questions related to God’s commandments and obedience are quickly relegated to secondary importance” (Noack 1997: 150). THE STATUS OF THE CHAPLAIN Both Protestant and Catholic reformers argued that the western system had withstood the test of time and represented a unique model in the world. In contrast, the eastern churches had had no experience with military chaplaincy (see general Naumann in Hölzle and Strauß 1994: 658). The protagonists of reform emphasized the positive experiences of the FRG. Ernst Niermann, the Catholic General-Chaplain, states exemplarily, “the 35-year-old experience with military chaplaincy allows the statement that the existing legal guarantees are sufficient to ensure the independence of the military chaplain” (1993: 40; also Stoltenberg in Demke, Falkenau, and Zeddies 1995: 143). They claimed that the treaty prevented the misuse of the military chaplaincy. Moreover, they declared the fear that the religious character and the critical stance of the chaplain might be lessened as unjustified. The military chaplain, they said, is above all a man of the church: his independence is conferred upon him through his ordination (Weidel 1993: 26). The short period of time he is posted to the army assures that the chaplain is not alienated from the church’s religious message (Niermann 1993: 39). And as a civil servant, the chaplain can be fully dedicated to his job (Krech 1992: 427; military superintendent in Stuttgart, Castell-Rüdenhausen 1994; general Naumann in Hölzle and Strauß 1994: 658; military superintendent in Bonn, Ottemeyer 1994; Schröder 1994b). Strategies of the Defenders of the Status Quo and Reform Protagonists of the East German status quo articulated their guiding metaphors and principles on the discursive level when they were challenged by reformers who contested them. Thus, they occasionally evoked the “minority church” or the “church in the diaspora” and invariably referred to the voluntary nature of church activities, its autonomy, and its critical stance in society as well as the value of the parish as the locus of religious life. Advocates of reform typically responded by pointing to the contradictions and inconsistencies of their opponents’ guiding metaphors, questioning the value of the prevailing institutions,

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and emphasizing their instrumental and contingent nature in order to delegitimize and deinstitutionalize them. Nedelmann refers to this as a process of “externalization.” To sum up, she states, “Stated formally, the deinstitutionalization process means that the reproduction mechanism of an institution will be changed from habitualized execution to strategic action: to explicitly explain and justify internalized values and norms; and not to derive the value or the motives of institutional action from the institution, but to relate it to a purpose, i.e., to emphasize the instrumental character of the institution” (1995: 24). By way of example, the Protestant reformers reproached the defenders of the East German status quo as not being sincere. The East German rhetoric is commanded, they argued, by self-serving interests. Uwe-Peter Heidingsfeld alleges that, in the pan-German context, the issue of military chaplaincy was the only place where East German status quo defenders could get their way and they stressed it for that reason.56 The contention that this rhetoric was guided solely by self-serving interests amounts to pointing to its instrumental nature and is part of a strategy to delegitimize the pattern of argument invoked by opponents, an argument that incidentally brings to mind Pollack’s (1997a, 1999) explanation of the pervasiveness of East German institutions and, it might be claimed, reflects the rhetoric of social explanation. Pollack contends that East Germans’ “urge to be different” or “Ostalgie” is the result of an opportunistic behavior in the pan-German context: a response to the perceived West German depreciation of their life experience. As a rebuke to the claim that structures were contingent and instrumental (that “they were imposed by the party-state”), proponents of the status quo tended to emphasize the moral value of their model. In this respect, when Thumfart speaks of German unification as a process of “normative integration” (2000:15), it could easily be extended to the reestablishment of the churches’ unity too. The different actors were confident that history was on their side, and therefore clung to their principles and demonstrated the value of their past experiences for German Protestantism and Catholicism in the new Germany.57 Thus, jeopardy, the fear of being bereaved of “das Bewährte,” was frequently invoked in the debates unleashed within both churches on the issue of military chaplaincy. In addition to the jeopardy argument, the actors repeatedly pointed to the pernicious effects that reform could bring. Yet, compared with the mocking tone of most reactionaries (Hirschman 1991), proponents of the East German status quo adopted the attitude of the underdog (Falcke 1997: 100). Pointing to the moral character of institutions has negative consequences. It turns the table on the exponents of the status quo, as they can also be attacked on their own moral account—something that particularly affected proponents of the East German status quo after the demise of socialism. Over the course of the debate on the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts, the integrity of both individuals and institutions was occasionally cast in doubt. When Noack suggested the moral superiority of the eastern practice over the western one, reaction was quick. Offended military chaplains responded with anger. For instance, Winfred Krech, a military chaplain, retorted that the so-called neutrality and autonomy of

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the East German churches was questionable in view of the contacts church members cultivated with the stasi, the secret police (1992: 427). Furthermore, he objected to insinuations that there was such a thing as “better Christians.”58 If conflict is generally thought to be integrative, the resorting to values and the attacks it generally yields cannot be integrative. Indeed, moral values cannot be debated. A dispute over values leads to conflict between people, not between different positions (see Mouffe 2000; Schmitt 1963 [1932]). It amounts to a trivialization of the issues at stake. Conversely, Hartmann (1993: 225) has shown that the debate on the stasi, once one found out that there had been informants on both sides, defused animosity and had an integrative role for Protestants in East and West.59 Table 4.1 Organizing Principles, Strategies, and Arguments in the Discussion on the Pastoral Care of Soldiers Status Quo “Minority church” Organizing Principles

Reform “People’s church”

Central role of the community Preference for the voiceless (“for others”) Critical role (independence) Voluntariness (negative right)

Service (Dienst) Society as a whole

Strategies

Moral value Defamation (Opportunism)

Instrumental value (Eigenwert) Defamation (No belief in God/democracy)

Rhetoric

Jeopardy

Synergy

Perversity

Imminent-danger

Futility

Futility

Partnership with state (Gestaltung) For all (positive right)

The Mediation of Conflict and the Transformation of East German Institutions Over the last decade the debate has evolved and shifted. The focus of interest first gravitated around the issue of peace, then centered on church-state relations. The debate was part of an ongoing process in which new arguments were presented by both actors and commentators. Exogenous factors such as German unification and recent discussions on the reform of the Bundeswehr have also had an influence. And now, after over ten years, the issue of the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts has lost some of its importance. The jeopardy argument has lost credence through empirical counterevidence, the discrediting of older arguments, and the presentation of new arguments. Some principles and, in turn, their corresponding institutions have fallen into disuse. In retrospect, Noack comments: “However, after five years, it’s easier to see that one aspect stood out among all the

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different points of contention, i.e., church-state relations. Today, we must critically ask ourselves whether we were following an old GDR bias by devoting our attention to church-state issues” (1997: 146-147). The bishop concedes that some East Germans were still imbued from the spirit of the “Church in socialism.” Looking back, the bishop sees the attitude as a mistake. Others, for instance Bär, a church official in Thuringia, have sought to excuse East Germans, claiming that for the most part they had only had the experience of living under a dictatorship and that they needed time to be acquainted with the new institutional order.60 In this vein, Ehrhart Neubert, a former East German activist and now a member of the conservative Christian Democratic Union, argues that the proponents of the status quo did not differentiate between state and society: “As in earlier times, there was still no differentiation between state and society” (2000: 388). In the GDR, there was no distinction, at least until the 1980s, between state and society: the state represented the interests of the society (1991: 33, 2000b: 9). This conception pertains, he adds, to a moderate public role of the church (Öffentlichkeitsauftrag). Yet, one has to grasp that things are different in the FRG (Neubert 2000). One should not subsequently pursue the line of the SED and accept the decline of the church. It is imperative, Neubert continues, not to accept the relegation of religion and morality to the private sphere.61 While exponents of the status quo have tempered their arguments, advocates of reform, for their part, have conceded that the church character of the military chaplaincy should be more overtly accounted for. This turn in the arguments paved the way for adjustments.62 Adjustments as Outcome of Conflict Concessions to merge the two systems have been made on both sides. After two years of deliberation, the Commission on the Future of the Military Chaplaincy presented its report to the synod of the EKD in November 1993. This commission proposed two options: model “A” and model “B” (see N.N. 1993a: 7 ff.).63 The first model foresaw reform within the treaty, whereas the second advocated for a thorough reform and, consequently, the amendment of the 1957 treaty—notably the status of the chaplain, the structures of the ecclesial office within the Bundeswehr, and the role of the military bishop. The territorial churches were invited to choose a model by the next federal synod in the autumn of 1994. While the western territorial churches were divided between the two options, all the East German churches and, somewhat surprisingly, the Council of the EKD pronounced themselves for a reform in the lines of model “B.”64 As a result, the council was mandated by the synod in Halle to start negotiations with the Ministry of Defense to modify the Military Chaplaincy Treaty. The main point was to strike an arrangement that would recognize both chaplains working as civil servants and those in the service of the church (“Soldatenseelsorger in kirchlicher Anstellung”). An agreement was signed on 12 June 1996, the “General Agreement on the Evangelical Pastoral Care in the Bundeswehr in the New Federal States.” The

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agreement foresees that full-time chaplains are church employees (Kirchenbeamte): they depend on a military bishop and the EKD through the representative of the “Evangelical pastoral care in the Bundeswehr in the new federal states,” as the arrangement is called.65 As a consequence, the chaplains do not depend on the Ministry of Defense. They are, nonetheless, remunerated by the state for their work on military bases. As a result of the negotiations, two systems coexist side by side. Continuity is guaranteed in both East and West. The eastern solution stands out in opposition with the new order. That said, the chaplains must pledge their loyalty to the “free and democratic order of the FRG.” The East German principles are preserved, with some modifications, which in turn, amounts to novelty in the pan-German context. Indeed, it is the first time that the church willingly relinquishes its prerogatives.66 It should be noted, however, that this treaty is provisional since it expires on 31 December, 2003. The use of time or the “externalization of problems to the future” is often used by actors for deinstitutionalizing organizing principles.67 Moreover, the agreement is limited to the eastern churches68 and although concessions were made, the treaty was not amended. Differences and Similarities between Catholics and Protestants From an East German point of view, the Catholics appear in the analysis above to be progressive in the pan-German context, whereas the Protestants seem somewhat reactionary. In contrast to the image of a church that is sometimes regarded as conservative and antimodern, the Catholic Church has engaged in a path of reforms. The Catholic leadership has typically shown a positive attitude to reform while stressing continuities—along the lines of the synergy thesis. Reform was adopted rapidly with the reintroduction of the practice military chaplaincy based on the Reichskonkordat and the Protestant treaty of 1957. I have shown that the arguments put forward by the reformers delegitimated their opponents which, in turn, hindered any debate. Arguments invoking faith in God and the future seriously discredited any form of opposition, at least in this particular context. There were certainly signs of discontent, but arguments were silenced before they could be articulated and no discussions emerged either in the GDR or after its dismantling. Nothing stood in the way of reform. Moreover, it is worth mentioning that the Catholic Church did not actually have an own position on military service. It had centered its effort on other areas of activity. Many Protestants, for their part, have been remembered as defenders of the “East German model.” The institutions and the principles they have embraced are sometimes related to the experiences of the GDR, sometimes to those of the “Wende,” but are always in opposition to a “people’s church.” And, as I have argued here, in the pan-German context, the status quo in reality means change. Because their attempts at reform involve a critique of the West German order, the exponents of East German institutions can be seen as “conservative revolutionaries,” conservative because they defend the status quo and have been so depicted by their opponents. Discredited with the collapse of state socialism, by attacks on

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the “morality” of their institutions, and as not being true democrats, they often seem like the underdog. On a more general level, the debate on the pastoral care of soldiers and military conscripts has demonstrated how the institutional order sets parameters. This seems to confirm the hypothesis according to which prevailing theological arguments are informed by the institutional order. However, as the Catholic and Protestant comparison has indicated, the actors can opt for different strategies within a given institutional order. In this way, issues of power and charisma ought to be emphasized. The organizational structure of the Catholic Church and the power invested in it certainly played an important role for the Catholic proponents of the West German status quo. Moreover, in comparing the paths taken by the two denominations, the smaller presence of the Catholic Church in East Germany in comparison to its numbers in the West should be remembered.69 However, coercion alone does not give a full picture. In order to understand the transformation of church guiding metaphors and organizing principles, issues such as strategies and the rhetoric of the actors and the strength and legitimacy of their arguments should also be taken into account. In seeking to mobilize a discussion, actors have notably attempted to externalize to other spheres certain aspects of the debates that did not fit in the new order.70 From a normative point of view, one could point out that the right and power to question prevailing norms is crucial and that opposition should not be expelled if one wants a real debate about possible alternatives. The case of the pastoral care of soldiers and military conscripts is a case in point. The arguments—and principles—invoked by the proponents and detractors of military chaplaincy are reflected in the more general literature on the reestablishment of the churches’ unity. They are paradigmatic for the clash between different conceptions of the churches’ public role. The Catholic Church did not have a fully developed position on the issue in the GDR and no noticeable conflict emerged with the “Wende.” The seeds of dissension among Protestants were already present in the GDR, as the depiction of their positions and activity during the GDR bears witness. Whereas debate was hampered in order not to jeopardize this church’s delicate position, dissent came to the fore with talks on the church’s future. Pacifism, an issue previously close to the hearts of protagonists of the East German model, was externalized. As points of dissension were reformulated, agreement was eventually reached, albeit temporarily. The new order has its advocates and its detractors and the process of change is not yet over. For this reason, my outline is confined to current hegemonic principles, to the “state of the art.” In the following chapters, I will look at two other fields of church activity: education and social welfare. The former is characterized by controversy within both churches while the second is characterized by low tension. In the remainder of the study, the following questions shall be raised: Can the Protestant and Catholic organizing principles, rhetoric, and strategies described above be extended to these fields of activities? Was conflict mediated in a similar fashion and settled with analogous organizational forms?

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Notes 1. As a prominent commentator on the discussion has stressed, “in the discussion on the pastoral care of soldiers and military chaplaincy, it becomes clear that the differences between the East and West that resulted from separation were greater than many people had believed at the time of German reunification” (Noack 1997: 160). 2. One authorized and promoted international organization was the “Christian Peace Conference” (CPC). The CPC included East European Orthodox and Protestant churches as well as individual Christians from the East and the West—such as, for instance, Bishop Schönherr. Its approximately 600 members pronounced themselves against military deterrence and westernstyle peace. After the suppression of Prague Spring in 1968, some members left it in protests, while others were brought into line. The Catholics were organized in the “Berlin Conference of European Catholics” (see, among others, Büscher and Wensierski 1984; Agethen 1997; Ploetz 2000). 3. The Catholic Church had a section on military chaplaincy in the 1933 Reichskonkordat (Spotts 1973). In 1957, it adopted similar practices to those of the Protestant Church. 4. The SED did not welcome the foundation of the Bund. As a matter of fact, the eastern federation was only officially recognized in 1971, two years after its creation. From the party-state’s vantage point, the independent territorial churches were thought preferable to a federation of churches (Pollack 1994a: 232 ff.). 5. Already in the 1950s, a mass organization, the “Gesellschaft für Sport und Technik,” was set up for the pre-military training of young people during leisure times (Lapp 1997). 6. Under criticism, Protestants participated at the 1973 Moscow convention of the “Communist World Peace Council” and cultivated ecumenical contacts with churches in eastern and central Europe (Mechtenberg 1982: 370 ff.). It was deemed imperative “to build trust with the state, claiming quasi-recognition of the church’s role as a ‘social force’ in GDR society, independent of the state and the CDU” (Goeckel 1990a: 214). 7. The immolation of pastor Brüsewitz in 1976 pointed to a sense of frustration. It amounted to a signal for greater participation with grassroots groups (Goeckel 1990a: 240). 8. Note that not all bishops objected to the practice. For instance, Bishop Mitzenheim stressed the limits of the role of the church and acknowledged the right of the state to muster youth (Mechtenberg 1982: 360). 9. These sanctions proved to be a strong deterrent. According to official documents, some 6,000 men, mainly Jehovah’s Witnesses, refused conscription during the forty years of the GDR. The highest rate of refusal was in 1989, when 0.2 percent of all conscripts refused to serve in the armed forces (Eisenfeld 1997b: 929). 10. Eisenfeld (1997a: 121) mentions that 15,000 Bausoldaten were mustered between the introduction of the construction units in 1964 and the spring of 1989. The majority of the Bausoldaten was mustered in the 1980s. 11. Church workers in Dresden launched an initiative during the 1980s to set up a social (ecological) peace service (Koch and Neugebauer 1993: 132; Mechtenberg 1982: 387). The SED, not surprisingly, rejected the project. As service in the NVA was by definition a peace service, the demand for a “peace service” was a provocation to the party-state. 12. One article on religion and religious associations of the Weimar Constitution (Article 141) refers to the army. The first Constitution of the GDR (Article 46) draws on this same article but omits any mention of the army (“Insofar as there exists a need for religious service and spiritual guidance in hospitals, penal institutions, or other public institutions, the religious associations are to be given an opportunity for religious exercises. No person may be forced to participate”). 13. The EKD representative to the East German government sought a treaty on military chaplaincy. Bishop Gienke of Greifswald also made such an attempt in 1987 (Heidingsfeld 1993).

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14. They were, most certainly, Christian teachers. Blühm contends that they were tolerated in part as an accommodation to the CDU (1993: 247). 15. Similarly, the motto “Church in socialism” has been criticized for not providing the local communities with concrete substance. 16. Campenhausen (in Thumfart 2002: 403) reports that the EKD and the Bund held over forty consultations on the peace issue from the end of the 1970s on. The issue of demilitarization proved particularly contentious. Some members of the Bund complained that the EKD was interfering in its internal matters, while others in the EKD criticized the self-righteous tone of the Bund. 17. Joppke (1995: 101) argues that, in contrast to other social movements in most East European countries, human rights concerns in the GDR became a concern only in the mid-1980s. Graf contests altogether that human rights were truly advocated. See his remark in Heidingsfeld (1993: 113). 18. The FDJ also counterattacked in 1982 with a campaign bearing the motto “Peace must be defended—peace must be armed” (see Mechtenberg 1982: 390). 19. This paper was for internal use only. 20. Indeed, the “Conciliar Process on Justice, Peace and the Integrity of Creation” seems to have marked a watershed. Looking back, Bishop Noack mentions, “The ecumenical assembly had a bridging function between politically and ethically engaged groups and the formal church in the East” (1997: 151). 21. Incidentally, the “Initiative for Peace and Human Rights” became the first group that positioned itself outside the churches (Joppke 1995: 101). 22. The sanctions were loosened during the 1980s. In reality, there had been few cases of imprisonment since 1986. Community service was introduced in November 1989 for those who refused to serve in the army, and military instruction also ceased (Koch and Neugebauer 1993: 137 ff.). 23. Note that the Evangelical Church in Berlin-Brandenburg and the Church Province of Saxony continued to request the abolition of military service (see Synode der Evangelischen Kirche in Berlin-Brandenburg 1990: 70). The model presented by the people’s chamber, however, was generally welcomed. Furthermore, it was thought to be a good basis for a reform of community service in the FRG. The council of the EKD was mandated to present the issue to the Bundestag (EKD-Synode 1990: 4), but the law was not modified. 24. As Quint points out, “the 1949 constitution continued to have some liberal defenders; indeed, during the East German revolution, GDR Prime Minister Lothar de Maizière argued that the 1949 document should be the basis for an interim constitution of the GDR” (1997: 22). The resorting to the constitution of 1949 and the constitutions of the federal states were also advocated in the case of religious instruction (see Chapter V). 25. These are the Evangelical Church in Hesse-Nassau and the Evangelical Church in Nordelbien. 26. Agreement was reached with the Ministry of Defense in 1991 to continue pastoral care of soldiers through the parishes (see Demke, Falkenau, and Zeddies 1995). The experiment failed and church chaplains were assigned to military bases (see Heckert 1999). Note that a similar provision is also foreseen in smaller military bases in the old federal states (Ottemeyer in N.N. 1994b). 27. For example, Binder (1994), a Protestant military bishop, maintained that the military chaplaincy was to serve Christians, not peace. He contends that this is a matter of neither faith nor creed (Bekenntnisfrage). 28. Catholics reinstitutionalized the practice of military chaplaincy. That said, parish priests also work on the military bases in East Germany, amounting to a form of continuity. 29. A memorandum entitled “Schritte auf dem Weg zum Frieden” was published in 1994 (EKD 1994b). 30. In a similar way, Bourdieu (1981: 270) relates the strategies of the actors to “their position in a field.”

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31. From this viewpoint, self-proclaimed “progressives,” the leadership of the SED for instance, can also be described as conservatives. 32. Falcke names, as symptomatic examples for the secularization of West Germany, the dispute on the crucifix and the Day of Prayer and Repentance (Buss- und Bettag) (1997: 114). 33. Proponents of new utilitarian theories in the sociology of religion have suggested that a separation of church and state correlates with high religiosity (see, for instance, Iannaccone 1991). This insight corresponds to an argument long used by church and state actors in favor of the separation of church and state. For an account of the use of this argument in the process of drafting the Constitution of the Weimar Republic, see Wittekind (1999: 86). 34. Falcke also advocates for a reform of the “parochial principle” and, in turn, of the people’s church as generally understood (1997: 111). 35. Similarly, Bishop Krusche pleaded for the church as a “moralische Instanz.” In a 1990 interview, he said: “As concerns the powerful in society, it still means that the church exercises a prophetical guardian office by telling them: ‘you cannot do whatever you want to human beings and nature’” (1990: 14). 36. A point also made by Benno Porovne, Catholic military chaplain in Bad Frankenhausen, in an interview conducted by Barbara Thériault (18 July 2000). 37. See Mehrle (1998) for a detailed legal account. 38. The Bund had created several commissions to study different aspects of church activity in the GDR. See Chapter II on the issues of commissions. 39. See the example of the Bund in Chapter III. 40. An argument advanced by Ehrhart Neubert, a theologian and member of the Gauck administration, in an interview conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000). 41. Interview with Benno Porovne, Catholic military chaplain in Bad Frankenhausen, conducted by Barbara Thériault (18 July 2000). 42. No mention was made to justify the Catholic Church’s past silence nor to acknowledge the role of Protestants in the “peaceful revolution.” The letter was received with much disappointment by the Catholics who expected from their bishops a clear position on the political and social change. 43. Incidentally, the public declaration read on 31 December 1989 ended with the following words: “If we are to rely on our own strength alone, then this task might seem too great for us. But with God’s help, which we pray for every day, we shall be able to obtain the courage to assume our responsibilities in the year of the Lord 1990” (in Lange et al. 1993: 395). 44. Huber comments in the same line: “political responsibility in a democracy differs from the guardian office in a state which refuses to acknowledge basic human rights and participation in the political process” (1998: 305). 45. Graf sees a close connection between the SPD and liberal Protestants (see Wittekind 1999). For details on liberal Protestantism, see Berger (1966: 158 ff.). 46. Similarly, Gerhard Robbers, professor of church law in Treves, claims, “Even more than in the old Federal Republic, it will be up to the churches in the new federal states to consider and defend the church’s legal institutions and regulations not as privileges ... but to actively take up possibilities offered by this legal system” (N.N. 1991b: 514). 47. A discussion on the theological background would take us far afield. Note that the dispute on the legitimate order and the church message, as manifest in the debate on authority, divided Protestants in the 1950s. Falcke points to the crisis of modernity and its institutions: “A neoliberalism with an individualistic understanding of freedom is not the answer to which the biblical tradition leads” (1997: 106; see also his interview in Findeis and Pollack 2000: 459-460). 48. This echoes Habermas in his book, Die nachholende Revolution (English title: The Past as Future), in which he contends that the revolution in the GDR brought nothing new, it merely caught up to the ideals of modernity (1990: 183). 49. These arguments also remind us of the discussion in which Habermas labeled Foucault a “conservative revolutionary” (see Fraser 1989: 35). Incidentally, there are similarities in the

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50.

51. 52. 53.

54.

55. 56. 57.

58.

59.

60. 61. 62.

63.

arguments advanced by Foucault and the proponents of the status quo in that neither confers a normative status on modernity. For instance, both argued that Fascism and Stalinism to a large extent relied on the ideas and devices of political rationalism (in Dreyfus and Rabinow 1983). In a paper on resistance, Friedrich W. Graf (1996; also 1994b: 13) evokes the example of the “Confessing Church” which, in the context of the Third Reich, relied on the maxim “obeying God more than man.” He maintains that the theologians of the Confessing Church put forward a real opposition, although it was not always intended. Interview with Peter-Uwe Heidingsfeld, EKD office in Berlin, conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000). Noack mentioned that there were similar views between the proponents of the East German status quo in East and West; they were, however, not identical. Gilsa, an exponent of the western model of military chaplaincy, could argue in accordance with the jeopardy argument, “existing agreements should only be changed in the case of obtaining something better” (quoted in Mehrle 1998: 166). Similarly, Naumann stated, “never change a winning team” (in Hölzle and Strauß 1994: 658). Johannes Ottemeyer, the military general superintendent in Bonn, argues along the line of perversity when he writes, “a decision which nobody really wanted [will be made] due to a lack of expertise” (1994: 661) or “a greater distance from the state also means a distance from parishioners” (1994: 662). Accordingly, they argue that a rejection of reform would entail losing those still affiliated with a church. This is an argument also posited in academic texts (see Pollack 2000: 13). By way of example, Ehrhart Neubert, a prominent exponent of reform, used derision to delegitimize his adversaries. He says in an interview conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000), “for example, the Berlin Declaration … as opposed to the Loccum one, was also supported by some people in the West. Well, that’s the left’s lifelong illusion to always mistake appearance for reality.” Interview with Peter-Uwe Heidingsfeld conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000). Interview conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000). East German actors complain that the West Germans repeated constantly that their system had proven its worth, as expressed in the formula: “this was proved during the 40 years of the Federal Republic” (see, for instance, Nooke in Jesse 2000: 104). Graf has also argued that some East German Protestants, under the influence of Barthian theology, do not grant the political sphere any autonomy and judge it from a theological perspective (1990: 738). In the end, “they are bound to scrutinize the religious faith behind their critics’ political views” (Graf 1990: 735). It was this kind of resorting to moral and religious creeds that provoked their opponents to comment that they unjustifiably saw themselves as “better Christians.” Hirschman suggests overcoming what he calls “the rhetoric of intransigence” (1991: 164 ff.) in striving for an ideal speech situation. Unveiling the pattern of rhetoric is certainly a step in that direction, though not the moralization of the discourse as he later suggested (Hirschman 1995). I shall return to this point in Chapter VI. Interview with Jürgen Bär, former member of the Ecclesiastical Council of the Church Province of Saxony, Erfurt, conducted by Barbara Thériault (29 April 1998). A point routinely made by the advocates of the religious instruction in state schools, as we shall see in Chapter V. It was proposed that the military bishop be given more power. Increased church-state cooperation was also advised on the organization of the lebenskundlicher Unterricht, and to reform the ecclesiastical office within the Bundeswehr as a critical organ of the church (Noack 1997: 158). An association, the Dietrich-Bonhoeffer Verein, which has been for many years petitioning for the reform of the Treaty on Military Chaplaincy, proposed a model “C.” For an account, see Mehrle (1998: 132 ff.).

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64. The territorial churches of Baden, Bavaria, the Evangelical-Lutheran Church in Braunschweig, and in Hanover, the Evangelical Church of Kurhesse-Waldeck, Oldenburg, SchaumburgLippe pronounced themselves for model “A” while the Evangelical Church in Bremen, Hesse and Nassau, Lippe, Rhineland and Westphalia opted for model “B.” The Evangelical Church in Berlin-Brandenburg pronounced itself for model “B” but proposed modification (Evangelische Kirche in Berlin-Brandenburg 1994). Binder, the military superintendent, resigned after the council of the EKD pronounced itself in favor of model “B.” 65. Five positions are foreseen for chaplains working on a full-time basis. Moreover, six other chaplains were to receive leave from their territorial church in order to work part-time in the Bundeswehr (Mehrle 1998: 142). This is quite similar to the Catholic solution described at the beginning of this chapter. In spite of the legal reform, the Catholic Church can also be characterized to some extent by continuity. 66. Military chaplaincy dates back from the beginning of the nineteenth century (see Müller-Kent 1990). During Weimar, the Protestants petitioned for the maintaining of a military chaplaincy (Wittekind 1999: 85), a wish not shared by Catholics. 67. A temporary institutionalization can be contemplated as a strategy when problems cannot be solved. The example of religious schools in Weimar shows that the practices institutionalized tend to stay (see Helmreich 1959). Some eastern churches, the Evangelical in Berlin-Brandenburg and the Church Province of Saxony, still promote initiatives for a social peace service (Demke 1997: 131). The principle is per se not abolished, though deinstitutionalized. 68. The agreement had to be ratified by the territorial churches. Rejecting it was generally seen as depriving the soldiers of military chaplaincy. 69. Institution theories have pointed to social objectivity as constituted through an act of power (Fraser 1989; Rehberg 199 4: 70). 70. Proponents of the East German models have repeatedly stressed the importance to have time to reflect on the situation. Time indeed appears to be a particularly important factor, as the reintroduction of the church tax in the East bears witness and, we will see below, with regard to religious instruction.

Chapter 5

RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION Living in a Secular World

 For lack of explicit guiding metaphors, I delineated and described in the previous chapter the organizing principles conveyed by the “conservative revolutionaries.” The debate that ensued with the beginning of talks to introduce religious instruction in state schools enables us to gauge how the outlined principles are reflected, materialized, and legitimized. No other issue proved as controversial for both Protestants and Catholics and illustrated in such an overt manner the quandary felt by the churches as regards their own definition of their public role. A glimpse at the dispute suffices to affirm that it opposes two conflicting readings of modern secularity that pertain to the churches’ role as a minority organization and their determination—or indeed unwillingness—to cooperate with school authorities.1 In a climate of secularization, seen as an irreversible modern phenomenon, and as a result of the “positive experiences” of the GDR in developing parochial structures, East German status quo defenders strongly criticized the introduction of western-style religious instruction as part of the regular curriculum in state schools. Though divided over possible alternatives, defenders of the status quo were nonetheless successful in institutionalizing some of their principles. An experimental course was introduced into the curriculum, which in turn provoked reformers to fight back and reignite the discussion with renewed eagerness. Unlike most accounts dealing with religious instruction, I shall limit myself to the discussion within the churches, thus bracketing out the position of the state.2 Notes for this section begin on page 109.

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I will follow the change in guiding metaphors through the actors at work in the field of education, one that was characterized by repression and hostility toward religion. First, I shall attempt to reflect on the guiding metaphors of “political abstinence” and the “Church in socialism” and their related organizing principles in the field of education in the GDR. Then, drawing on analytical tools developed in previous chapters, I shall array the arguments in the church literature and delineate the strategies put forward by actors in the wake of German unification to institutionalize and deinstitutionalize their organizing principles. In addition to reform, I shall distinguish between the status quo and one of its offshoots, the “status quo plus.” Lastly, I shall look at the attempts to mediate conflict through state legislation and, more briefly, at the resurgence of conflict that was accompanied by a hardening and radicalization of positions and, as a last resort, the externalization of conflict.

At the Core of the Center’s Institutional Project Education was deemed the seminal instrument for instituting socialism and molding the “new man.” It was at the very core of the center’s institutional project or, in the words of Milosz, the New Faith (1990 [1951]). Not surprisingly therefore, education was the area where “professional revolutionaries” had been most ardent in repelling religion. The implementation of the law on the “democratization of the German school” (1946) allowed the party-state to establish a monopoly in education that was soon extended to the whole youth sector.3 The churches were given no say whatsoever on education (Blühm and Onnasch 1993: 174). Similar to the Soviet model, kindergartens and youth homes were contemplated as part of the state’s education mandate and were, therefore, transferred to the Ministry of Education.4 Barring a few exceptions, confessional schools were closed, reorientated, or reassigned to the Ministry of Education, as were most church-operated kindergartens as well as child and youth homes.5 Religion was banned from schools, and further, the education system was to serve as a device to eradicate religion from society. Teachers were notoriously hostile to religion and its carriers. The school constituted the “epicenter” of the party-state propaganda, as the arena where Marxism-Leninism was professed, the Jugendweihe celebrated, and party youth organizations (the young pioneers, the Ernst Thälmann pioneers, and the FDJ) met. Parallel church activities were, at the outset of the GDR, curtailed through repression. Later, repression was to be replaced by bureaucratic harassment and discriminatory practices.6 The partystate was overtly successful at eradicating a church presence in public education, effectively breaking the “ligne de croyants” (Hervieu-Léger 1993) and, in turn, impeding the reproduction of religion. In spite of the professional revolutionaries’ agenda, the right to provide religious instruction in schools as well as the right of parents over the upbringing of children was included in the first Constitution of the GDR, echoing the Consti-

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tution of the Weimar Republic.7 During the process of drafting a constitution at Weimar, the social democrats strongly advocated for secular schools, but as a compromise with other political parties and Christians within their own ranks, religious instruction in schools was allowed (Helmreich 1959: 103 ff.). Provisions in the GDR’s first Constitution and the constitutions of the federal states allowed religious instruction to take place in schoolrooms in the afternoon after class,8 a practice that continued throughout the 1950s. Instruction was, however, subject to increased bureaucratic control. Decrees issued in 1956 and 1958 placed restrictions on religious instruction: it had to take place at least two hours after regular classes; it required teachers of religion to be committed to the institutional order of the GDR and to regularly seek authorization to teach from the school authorities; content of religious instruction was to be subject to strict school control; announcement of the instruction was prohibited in schools; and instruction was limited to primary schools (see Mehrle 1998: 171; Pilvousek 1994: 28). As school authorities started to interfere with the churches’ programs and contents, some teachers started to give their lessons outside of the school. In this way, religious instruction gradually moved away from the schools and became anchored in the church environment. By the time the 1968 constitution made the official declaration of the separation of church and state, religion had already completely disappeared from schools in the GDR.9 The Containment of Churches within the Parish The party-state’s policy of containment conflated with a new trend within the churches. The parish and the family acquired a new dimension for Protestants and, most notably, for Catholics.10 Already in the 1950s, forms of religious instruction, apart from school instruction and instruction by clergymen in preparation for the sacraments, had been developed to reach children in the GDR. The Catholics established weekly catechism classes that took place in either a church building or the home of a Catholic family.11 The catechetical instruction was, as Friemel observes, close to community life, the liturgy, and the church calendar (1993: 22). However, it upheld the label “religious instruction,” reminiscent of the “people’s church on hold.” In addition to the catechetical instruction, other forms of instruction were established in the 1950s. The “religiöse Kinderwochen” and the “frohe Herrgottstunden” are worth mentioning. The former took place during school holidays and gathered children of the diaspora who were otherwise difficult to reach; the latter brought together preschool children at regular meetings in the parish. These activities were religious in content and were directed toward baptized children, although not exclusively (Friemel 1993).12 They were also generally provided by women (the so-called Gemeindereferentinnen and the Seelsorgehelferinnen) and were coordinated by a group of catechists from the dioceses, the “Arbeitsgemeinschaft der Katechetischen Ämter” (Braun 1993: 34). They depended on the financial and logistic support of Caritas and sister dioceses in the West (Friemel 1993; Lange and Pruß 1996). As with other domains of activity, the various forms of religious instruction had to be approved by the

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Bishops’ Conference and were under their authority (see the various texts reproduced in Pilvousek 1994, 1998b).13 A glimpse at the protocols of the Bishops’ Conference suffices to ascertain that the pastoral care of children and youth was of prime importance. Education—in schools, in the case of the Jugendweihe or military instruction—was certainly the issue that the Catholic bishops were most vocal about in their otherwise rare official declarations. On several occasions, church leadership petitioned the state to respect constitutionally enshrined rights, and encouraged parents to make use of them (see notably the pastoral letter from November 17, 1974 “Zur christlichen Erziehung” Lange et al. 1993: 257 ff.). In addition to freedom of worship and conscience, parents’ rights to raise children, a right decreed by the socialists at Weimar, was deemed a basic human right. Education constituted perhaps the most important battlefield between church and state. The organization of schools had been the concern of debate at numerous constitutional discussions in German history (see Zippelius 1994). Traditionally, the Catholic Church claimed exclusive authority in regulating the religious and moral conduct of its faithful (Spotts 1973: 271). In the GDR, the episcopacy rejected the legitimacy of the institutional order and, in accordance with its line of “political abstinence,” advocated the separation of church and state. This amounted to a retreat in the parishes. Like their fellow Catholics, the Protestants had developed their own weekly confessional instruction in the parish: the Christenlehre.14 It was provided by church employees. Drawing on the spirit and the experiences of the “Confessing Church” during the Third Reich, the new teaching plans made large use of the Bible and the hymnbook and focused on preparation for taking the sacraments (Blühm and Onnasch 1993: 176). In the 1950s, participation in the Christenlehre was high; however, it dwindled with the repressive measures imposed on youth parishes and especially after the introduction of the Jugendweihe. Similarly, the number of church employees declined, causing difficulties especially in the rural areas (Blühm 1993).15 New forms of instruction were introduced during the 1960s to replace purely confessional instruction (the “offene Kinderarbeit”). This was reinforced by the 1977 “Rahmenplan für die kirchliche Arbeit mit Kindern und Jugendlichen (Konfirmanden)” (reproduced in Reiher 1992b: 120129). Over time, the number of children in the Christenlehre without church affiliation increased considerably; however, this instruction remained marginal in terms of percentage of the population (Blühm and Onnasch 1993: 180). Similar to the “religiöse Kinderwochen,” “Rüstzeiten für Kinder” were also organized as well as children’s and youth conventions (Wensierski 1982: 244). These activities were not limited to parishioners and were not solely religious in nature. Echoing church peace activities, Wensierski mentions that young people were not always interested in the religious component of the church (1982: 272). The Protestant churches showed more openness toward the state than did their Catholic counterpart. A commission was set up within the Bund, the “Commission for Church Work with Children and Youth (Konfirmanden),” to

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observe and reflect on church and state educational activities (N.N. 1991c: 505). In accordance with the motto “Church in socialism,” the Protestant Church showed a readiness to work in schools and sought dialogue with state authorities on matters of education (Degen 1991: 21). Arguing that a dialogue would infringe upon the separation between church and state, the party-state maintained a hard line. A meeting nonetheless took place in 1953 which, in fact, turned out to be largely unsuccessful from the vantage point of the churches. At a second meeting in 1958, the churches complained of the discrimination against Christians in schools (Blühm and Onnasch 1993: 182). Despite the normalization of relations following the 1978 summit between church and state as well as the dialogue on peace, the party-state did not revise its position. The state’s rebuff did not deter the Protestant churches from voicing their opinions on educational matters, as the proposed concept for an “education to peace” (see Chapter IV) and an analysis of schoolbooks bear witness (see Aldebert 1990: 195 ff.).16 The churches’ synods also frequently expressed concern during the 1980s on the worrying situation in schools (Reiher 1991a: 245). It was only in November 1989, in the midst of popular upheaval, that the state showed any willingness to enter negotiations. The Demise of State Socialism, School Reform Projects, and the East German Metaphors and Principles According to the definition previously charted here, the East German model could, after the demise of state socialism, be summed up as the “status quo minus.” This would, in the case under study, generally correspond to the upholding of the catechetical instruction in the parish combined with demands to relieve the school from its ideological burden. Protestants may also seek involvement with educational matters. From statements by Christians and official church declarations following the radical political change, it may be ascertained that all the players saw religious instruction in the parishes as worth keeping. Moreover, they all sought the repeal of instruction in state ideology (Staatsbürgerkunde) and to remove the Jugendweihe from school premises (see, for instance, Konsistorium der Evangelischen Kirche des Görlitzer Kirchengebietes 1990). Despite sharing these general demands, Protestants and Catholics emphasized different aspects of them. In the aftermath of the “peaceful revolution,” the Protestant Commission on Church Work with Children and Youth called for a renewed school in which it was willing to engage in critical cooperation with authorities and take up responsibility (N.N. 1991c: 505). In the meantime, Protestants and “practicing nonbelievers” advanced a series of proposals. While some argued that religious issues should be dealt with different subjects (German, History, and new subjects such as civic instruction and social studies)17 and through projects or periodic courses, others advocated for the neutral instruction of religion for all students in conjunction with catechetical instruction in the parishes (Doyé in Schwerin 1990: 364). These proposals were not mutually exclusive, but they all denied the viability of the

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extension of the West German model to the East which was seen to segregate youth, “isolate the religious issue,” and ostracize Christians (Reiher and Doyé in Mehrle 1998: 176). Summing up the situation, Doyé, secretary of the Commission on Church Work with Children and Youth, wrote in April 1990: “It is not possible to predict future developments, but I think we should do everything we can to keep the Christenlehre as an important dimension of parish life. In schools, we could perhaps introduce a subject such as Ethics/Norms. This would address the basic questions of life” (quoted in Mehrle 1998: 177). In any case, it was argued that the school should meet the need to deal with ethical and religious issues and provide information on the origins of the common cultural tradition. In its first declaration, the Catholic Bishops’ Conference appealed for a thorough reform of the school system. As in the GDR, the right of parents over the upbringing of children was reiterated. Above all, an Entideologisierung of the school was sought in order to end discrimination against Christians. No mention was made of religious instruction (Lange et al. 1993: 394). The newly founded Catholic lay organization in the GDR additionally petitioned for the right to set up confessional private schools as well as the recognition and financing of church kindergartens and children’s homes (in Lange et al. 1993: 398-399). In an interview from May 1990, Hans Joachim Meyer, president of the Catholic lay organization and minister for education and Science in the GDR, pronounced himself in favor of religious instruction in public schools, but not using the West German model. Instead, he saw the 1949 Constitution as providing the framework for religious instruction (in Domsgen 1997: 179; Simon 1992: 87).18 Finally, the association of East German catechists favored an option analogous to what eventually became known as the “Protestant solution”: the continuation of parish activities combined with civic instruction for all children and, possibly, religious instruction (Simon 1993: 120). This period of broad reflection on the renewal of education and the relation between the school and religion came to an end with the decision to proceed with German unification through “institutional transfer” (Reiher 1991b: 246). Unification now set the parameters of discussion: it focused attention on religious instruction in the schools and provoked two stances, either for or against western-style religious instruction.

The Politics of Institutionalization Unlike the debate on the pastoral care of soldiers, the discussion of religious instruction was not as clearly defined as it at least appeared to be in the former GDR. Whereas the (Protestant) churches were reluctant that their members enter the army because of their views on peace, education was deemed a crucial field of involvement. The issue touched not only upon church-state relations but also on the organizational role of the church in society. Drawing on the concepts outlined in the analytical introduction, we can distinguish different positions on this issue. A discussion at the last meeting of the East German Commission for

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Church Work with Children and Youth in June 1991 between Raimund Hoenen, a theology professor at the church university in Naumburg (East) who had fostered longstanding contacts with the West, and Götz Doyé, secretary of the same commission, clearly exhibits the differing positions of advocates of reform and defenders of the status quo. A brief extract of their conversation allows us to understand their arguments and serves as a reference point as actors attempt to institutionalize their respective positions: Hoenen: “I think that Christianity’s great work is both possible and necessary. I’m neither ready to accept the reality conferred upon us by the forty years of the GDR nor the status quo. We were put in a corner on the weltanchauung level. For this reason, I don’t want any law that would legitimize this status quo.” Doyé: “I’d like to know what you mean by that? Are we a Christian society?” Hoenen: “Yes, that’s what I’d say! That’s what we’ll see!” (in N.N. 1991c: 510). Before presenting an analysis of the carriers of East German institutions, it is important to mention that the advocates of reform enthusiastically favor religious instruction as enshrined in the Basic Law of the Federal Republic. Article 7 of the constitutional text guarantees confessional instruction as part of the school curriculum. This instruction is provided in accordance with church tenets and under the supervision of the state.19 For their part, defenders of the status quo—and one of its offshoots that shall be referred to as the “status quo plus”—vehemently rejected the provisions of the Basic Law and the role it confers on the church. They advanced alternate proposals that they saw as more in tune with modern secularism. Their arguments are adamant in their opposition to the people’s church and are similar to those outlined in the prior discussion on the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts. In the following, I shall first present the principles as expounded by the carriers of East German institutions, those I have convened to call the “conservative revolutionaries,” and will then study the efforts of the reformers in catching up to the past. As in the preceding chapter, I will examine the rhetorical devices and strategies used by actors to promote and institutionalize their principles. Lastly, I will show how state constitutions were used to mediate the conflict and the challenges that then ensued. The Defenders of the East German Model: “The Conservative Revolutionaries” THE STATUS QUO As Doyé’s remark in the dialogue cited above paradigmatically suggests, the defenders of East German institutions made pleas for caution in making any reforms related to religious instruction in schools. East Germany, they unremittingly recalled, is an almost completely secularized society. The churches no longer enjoy the monopoly situation of previous days; on the contrary, they now occupy a minority position as one organization among others. For this reason, the churches can no longer be contemplated as the main vectors of values (Doyé

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1991: 309). As such, Falcke describes the current situation as a “nachkonstantinische Zeit” (1990, 1997: 101). As with the case of the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts, defenders of the status quo concurred that religious instruction ought to be integrated into the community, the locus of religious life. The methods developed in the GDR had withstood the test of time and proven their worth as the most apt form of transmission of the faith (Milker in N.N. 1991c; Reiher 1992a: 329). In making their claim, defenders of the status quo stressed how qualified church employees are in their work with the children of the diaspora and the voluntary, accessible, independent, and critical nature of the churches’ activity.20 The experiences of the GDR, it was argued, symbolized a turning point in church history, especially within German Protestantism. As such, Falcke observes, the cultural and religious symbiosis between church, society, and the state had ended during the GDR (1997: 101). Against such a background, religious instruction in the parishes, whatever it may be called by the different denominations, should be continued as religious and ethical issues had to be dealt with. Western-style reform was either deemed futile, a view typically taken by Protestants, or it jeopardized “das Bewährte,” the positive experiences of the GDR and the essence of faith, the Catholic view. The Catholics and the Jeopardy / Perversity Theses

While acknowledging the necessity of change, Catholic proponents of the status quo stressed the dangers of losing their catechetical instruction as well as other pastoral activities such as the pastoral care of the youth and family circles (B.S. 1993; Simon 1992: 86). After the radical political change, it was generally considered that the introduction of western-style religious instruction would represent a threat to the central place of the parish as locus of religious life and continuity. Annegret Beck, an employee of the school board of the Erfurt diocese, reported a recurrent statement: “for Christians in these communities, parishes remained a ‘roomy niche,’ a place of continuity which—in contrast to all other areas of life—did not have to undergo fundamental change” (1994: 28). People who advocated reform in other domains expressed skepticism concerning the introduction of religious instruction as part of the regular school curriculum. Anticipating the argument that religious instruction in the schools would attract more people and give more freedom for catechetical instruction (as, for example, Meyer 1999), they claimed that school religious instruction would leave children with neither the time nor the interest to engage in parish-based religious activities (Beck 1994: 64-65). By the same token, they maintained that the teachers would have little time or energy after their schoolwork to invest in the parish (Beck 1994: 76; see also Demke 1997: 131). Along the same lines, many defenders of the status quo contended that if the many organizations administered by Catholics in the West were transferred to the East, they could sap the strength of active Catholics and erode the foundations of the community.21 The reluctance of defenders of the East German status quo to engage in reform indicates that the position of the parish as the locus of religious life and

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transmission of the faith is very institutionalized. The positive experiences made during the GDR and the structures that were then established were seen as worth keeping and institutionalizing in German Catholicism (Wanke 2000). Indeed, Bishop Wanke infers that there is a positive relation between church activity in the parishes and the degree of motivation and innovation of the catechists.22 Eastern catechists, he remarks, demonstrate more enthusiasm and optimism than do their western counterparts. Of the West German experience, he asks critically, “did the opportunity to be present in the schools through religious education and Christian heritage take away from our courage to carry on with an independent church catechism?” (Wanke 2000: 127). The bishop of Erfurt also points to other diaspora churches (such as the Catholic Church in France and in South American countries) and claims that they too have produced good experiences with parochial structures (2000: 127). In so doing, Wanke points to the value of catechetical instruction and its corollaries. Otherwise very optimistic, the bishop stresses here the instrumental value of religious instruction in the parish when compared with religious instruction in the schools. The Protestants and the Futility Thesis

To make their point, Protestant defenders of the status quo drew mainly, though not exclusively, on the futility argument. And they usually pointed to the gulf between the proposed reform and reality. They contended that a western-style religious instruction did not seem appropriate “under the East German circumstances” (Schwerin 1990; Doyé 1991; Reiher 1992a). Given the highly secular context of East Germany, it was argued that the Christenlehre not only had proven its worth, it was indeed appropriate and perhaps the only conceivable form of religious instruction. Friederike Milker, advisor for kindergarten work and member of the Commission of Church Work with Children and Youth, pointed out that the articles of the Basic Law—and by extension, the principles of the people’s church—did not reflect the situation in the East (in N.N. 1991c: 510; see the declaration of the Bund in Domsgen 1998: 185). Defenders of the status quo took pains to point out that the churches have a very small population base on the territory of the former GDR. Most people neither were affiliated with a church nor had anything to do with religion. This situation did not change when the repression and the discrimination by the SED stopped. They commented that the acceptance of the churches was admittedly high at the end of the 1980s and the beginning of the 1990s, but soon dwindled due, in part, to the position of power conferred on the churches the Basic Law (see Pollack 1998: 246). They contended that the SED-promoted atheism and hostile policy toward churches, especially in the field of education, and, more importantly, the forces of modernization had secularized East German society (Schorlemmer 1999: 186). The bearers of the “minority church” saw secularization as an irreversible phenomenon that the churches were impotent to modify—a point also often made in academic discussions (see, for instance, Berger 1966; Weber 2002 [1904/1905]).23

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Following this analysis of the situation, the people’s church was deemed an atavistic, even regressive, model (see Wydmusch 1999). Several disenchanted pastors uttered the critique: “we’re returning to the people’s church!” (1993: 332). Educational specialists in East and West Germany saw confessional religious instruction as practiced in the West as anachronistic (Otto 1992). Roland Degen, a member of the Commission on Church Work with Children and Youth, said its adoption would be grotesque as it would inevitably drive a wedge between Catholics and Protestants that had ostensibly been overcome at the “Conciliar process” (Degen in N.N. 1991c : 510). Defenders of the status quo recalled that confessional instruction as practiced in West Germany is an exception in Europe (Doyé in Schwerin 1990: 634). They contended that their reasoning was not limited to East Germany, but applied to West Germany as well. By way of example, Renate Höppner, a pastor in Magdeburg, claimed that the situation in the West is analogous to the situation in the East. According to her, “this is still hidden in the West due to much better finances.”24 Gerhard Besier, a theologian in Heidelberg, points out that the practice has been in crisis for many years (1996: 7). In addition, Höppner comments that religious instruction in West Germany is not what it pretends to be; it corresponds more to interconfessional instruction on ethical and religious issues than to genuine religious instruction (see also Doyé 1991: 310). Given the situation, Höppner deplored the lack of honest discussion, and called for a discussion similar to those that took place in the Scandinavian countries on the future of the state churches (2000).25 Defenders of the East German status quo upheld the principles developed in the GDR and demanded a general reform in keeping with that reality (Stock 1991: 28). From this viewpoint, both Catholic and Protestant protagonists can be seen as “conservative revolutionaries.” The guardians of the East German status quo made their case that secularization was an undeniable fact. They expressed not only that attempts at Christianization were bound to be ineffectual, but that engaging in reform would be opportunistic on the part of the church (Besier 1996: 7).26 Defenders of the status quo dreaded having religious instruction labeled as a form of “black instruction in state ideology” (“schwarze Staatsbürgerkunde”) (Domsgen 1998: 188; Hanisch and Pollack 1997), the device of the new power substituting the SED and its ideological apparatus. They believed that religious instruction could be interpreted as a rent-seeking behavior and could deprive the churches of the credibility they had gained during the 1980s and the beginning of the 1990s. It was therefore argued that reform should be carried out with extreme caution (Falcke 1991: 90). They also feared that the introduction of religious instruction in the schools might have negative consequences on the voluntary nature of the instruction and exert pressure for a “winning option.” Parents might feel they had to accommodate a new power. Ruth Misselwitz, a pastor in Berlin, vividly expressed this argument in an interview:27 In the eyes of the communists, we were the real class enemy … And then, religious education was to be introduced in schools immediately after the “Wende” … I have met parents

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here, in the schools shortly after the “Wende,” while they were filling in school registration forms … there was the question: religious education? Yes or no. Of course, they chose religious education. Their argument was: “well, we won’t spoil our children’s prospects for the future.… What was once the pioneer organization is today religious education!” So, I went up to them and said: “Listen now, it’s not like that at all. Religious instruction shouldn’t be selected for career reasons, but out of conviction.” I have almost tried to convince parents not to register their children in religious education because it should not be equated with … the pioneer organization … because the subject of “religion” is for me simply too valuable and important to be defamed in such a way, [it ought] to be fought for.

The perversity thesis was often invoked in addition to the futility argument. From this viewpoint, it was argued that the introduction of religious instruction in the schools was bound to have a pernicious effect on the principles discussed above. Misselwitz points out that reform could curb the right of parents and children to make free decisions and could impinge on the voluntary nature of the activities. In a similar vein, Bishop Demke asserts that one of the strengths of the Christenlehre and other church activities for youth in the parishes was that it attracted both Christians and non-Christians.28 Defenders of East German institutions further argued that the introduction of confessional religious instruction in the schools and cooperation with school authorities—and by extension the state—would be detrimental to the organization’s independence and, in turn, its critical status. Along the lines of the perversity thesis, Klaus Gaber, a politician from the Green/Alliance 90’ party in Saxony, paradigmatically points out: “I have co-operated within church grassroots groups over many years. There, I have experienced how difficult but also how helpful and enriching it was that the church was separated from the state and faced up to it with criticism. I ... am afraid of the church developing a close relation to the state or even becoming a state church” (quoted in Mehrle 1998: 196). As with the case of the military chaplaincy, the “dictate of reason” proved to be a powerful argumentative weapon for the defenders of the status quo. Accordingly, it was argued that the low number of Christians in the East made the introduction of religious instruction as stipulated in the Basic Law unjustifiable.29 Proponents of the status quo argued that the conditions to offer religious instruction in the schools could not be met: there were simply not enough children interested in taking this class. Other reasons were also given: there were not enough teachers for all of the schools; and they could not ensure a solid enough presence in the schools to be taken seriously by other staff. It was therefore seen as impossible to reach all Christians through schools, especially in rural areas. As a curriculum course, it would also be hard to grade students and measure a child’s religious advancement. In addition, many church employees and pastors objected to religious instruction in the school and would refuse to partake in the program.30 Most parents and their children, indeed the population as a whole, were skeptical of religion and ideologies (Degen 1991: 22; Stock 1991: 29). Finally, providing instruction in schools and in the parish would put too much strain on pastors. In brief, defenders of the status quo presented an inventory of

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all the problems the introduction of religious instruction in schools could possibly bring with it. Advocates of the status quo all pronounced against the introduction of religious instruction as stated in the Basic Law. Given the minority situation in eastern Germany, and modern secularization, the transmission of the faith was seen necessarily to have to take place in the parish. In view of the socialist experiment, the voluntary nature of religious instruction was seen as essential. In contrast with the vehement reaction against the reinstitutionalization of the Military Chaplaincy Treaty after German unification, however, there was a feeling that something had to be done in the schools. A variety of models rooted in past experience were advanced to change the situation and overcome the legacy of state socialism (see Schwerin 1990). Heino Falcke, provost in Erfurt, concisely describes the position of Protestant defenders of the status quo, which was also embraced by some Catholics. In view of the wide-scale secularization of society, Falcke suggested that religious instruction should be introduced in schools in accordance with the principles of freedom of faith and conscience.31 Ideally, it would take the form of cooperation in the presentation of several subjects and periodic courses in religion. This church official asserts that “It [religious instruction] should not derive from a partnership between church and state with a theory of religion that conceives of Christianity as the religion of society which takes on an integrative, value-imparting function for society as a whole” (Falcke 1991: 89). Subscribing to this recommendation, another solution crystallized that I shall call the “status quo plus.” THE PROTAGONISTS OF THE “WENDE” AND THE STATUS QUO PLUS After German unification, any discussion of religious instruction centered on the general practice in West Germany.32 Defenders of the status quo presented many arguments explaining why the western practice was incompatible with the East German situation and, more generally, with modern secularity. They called for a sober view. They generally felt that they had to make up for something that was lacking in socialist education. In this respect, changes had to be made: children needed to learn about the Christian roots of western civilization and, especially after the demise of the GDR, to be presented with ethical and religious issues (see Birthler in Fauth 2000: 24 ff.). Their concerns included ending the discrimination of the former party-state and teaching children about other ways of life in order to promote tolerance and prevent fundamentalism, in short, to think critically (Schwerin 1990; Doyé 1991; Stock 1991: 29; Schorlemmer 1999: 186). Diverse proposals were made to introduce interconfessional religious instruction parallel to catechetical instruction in the parish. They propounded an integrated course of studies for all children that engaged dialogue with teachers of different subjects and promoted cooperation between various religious denominations, secular weltanschauungs, and the school authorities (Domsgen 1998: 187 ff.; Fauth 2000: 47 ff.; Mehrle 1998: 207 ff.). In presenting their project, architects of the status quo argued that they were presenting a radical departure from the GDR and embracing principles adapted

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to the East German context. These principles were manifest in a proposal for a new subject in the school curriculum. One offshoot of these proposals was LER (Lebensgestaltung, Ethik, Religionskunde or “Forms of Life, Ethic, and Religion”), an experiment that was eventually enshrined in the legislation of Brandenburg, one of the eastern states. This experiment was conceived as a neutral, nonconfessional, integrated subject. The subject was drafted by protagonists of the “Wende” close to the Protestant churches—such as the former catechist and then minister in the eastern federal state of Brandenburg, Marianne Birthler (see Pietsch 1996: 20).33 It was endorsed by people who had worked within the church ranks and under its umbrella as well as by members of the PDS, the reinvented communist party. As will be illustrated below, the experiment was quite controversial among many defenders of the status quo and rekindled the old debate on the church’s public role and its “privileged” position in relation to the state. Indeed, it shows affinities to the discussion on the “Church in socialism” and its simultaneous principles of accommodation and opposition. The experiment came under sharp criticism from supporters of western-style reform and marked a turning point in the discussion on education. The Proponents of Reform: The “Nachholende” Reformers Defenders of the status quo, and the “status quo plus” variant, preached realism. They contended that the churches’ minority situation made the introduction of western-style religious instruction in state schools untenable. Advocates of reform such as the Protestant theologian Raimund Hoenen retorted optimistically (see the quotation on p. 64), rebuffing his opponents’ arguments by maintaining that the number of people declaring church affiliation was not as central to the issue as defenders of the status quo like to pretend. Hoenen warned against accepting the status quo imposed by the former party-state, and stressed the strengths of Christianity. In the same way, Norbert Joklitschke, a Catholic priest in Brandenburg, asserts that Christians were an important minority as “carriers of tradition” (1993: 268). Christianity was seen as part of the western heritage and the source of modern values—Feiereis, a Catholic theologian from Erfurt, speaks of Christianity as society’s “intellectual and cultural foundation” (1997). In this vein, the connection between democracy and Christianity is also stressed (Tiefensee 1998: 188). To put it succinctly, the reformers claimed that “the Christian churches are not sects.”34 Following this logic, the small number of Christians in East Germany was not seen to reflect a rejection of Christianity (see Rendtorff in Aldebert 1990: 36; Neubert 2000; Tiefensee 2000). Because of the secularization promoted by the center, it was contended that most East Germans never had a chance to be acquainted with Christianity. As Neubert points out, secularization is the legacy of the party-state’s policy: “empirical findings show that East German aconfessionalism (Konfessionslosigkeit) is primarily the result of the SED’s policy on church and religion” (2000a: 377).35 The fact that a majority of East Germans professed no religious confession would not mean that they are areligious, as transcendence is intrinsic to man (Beck 1994: 87; Friemel 1992:

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31).36 In this vein, Eberhard Tiefensee, a professor at the Catholic faculty of Theology in Erfurt, described people socialized in the GDR as religiously “unmusical” (2000).37 In promoting the introduction of western-style religious instruction, advocates of reform challenged the alleged effects and sources of secularization and in this way conferred power on religious actors as well as a public role on religion.38 Reformers exhibited optimism and faith in the future. They greeted the opportunities that came with the demise of state socialism and German unification with enthusiasm. Several advocates of reform spoke of the “gift of unification,”39 and East Germany was depicted as a “land of opportunities.” Religious instruction presented the chance to be the “church for others” (Baldermann 1990: 360; Ratzmann 1991) and a chance for mission (Reinelt 1994: 4-5). It represented the opportunity to undo the acts of an illegitimate regime. Indeed, it was imperative, it was argued, to lift the discriminations imposed over forty years and to restore the role of Christianity as a legitimate constituent of society (Hoenen in Beck 1994: 85; N.N. 1991c; Neubert 2000). From this viewpoint, the churches could be regarded as advocates of the spiritual, the “professional guardians of the sacred” whose duty for society as a whole is, as Beck puts it, “to bring the religious dimension intrinsic to man to the public” (1994: 86).40 The reformers advised the church to seize the opportunity and favor the model adopted by most West German federal states. Several arguments were invoked. They reasoned that instruction as part of the school schedule would give many different people access to religion, some of whom had no church affiliation. As Friemel puts it in an interview: we get the “good Catholics” anyway (1999; also Baldermann 1990: 360).41 They felt that once they were in the schools, religion and its carriers would gradually become more accepted. Beck writes that once children, parents, and teachers have had experience with the instruction, they are generally satisfied (Beck 1994: 49; Reinelt 1994). Advocates of reform also argued that the model had proven its worth in minority situations in the West in places like Hamburg, Bremen, Berlin, Schleswig-Holstein, and parts of Lower Saxony (Beck 1994; Friemel 1992). Reformers countered arguments that religious instruction is not voluntary, is uncritical, and serves the interest of the church. While being accessible to all, the instruction remains voluntary since students can opt out and take civic instruction instead.42 Baldermann, a western Protestant pedagogue, claims that religious instruction is not indoctrination, but critical—the Bible being per se a critical instance (1990: 360). Similarly, a teacher of religion in an Erfurt school states, “religious instruction is no mental rape (Geistesvergewaltigung).”43 As Balderman writes, “those against the instruction have not experienced it at close quarters; it is not what they think” (1992: 215). For his part, Franz Georg Friemel, a theologian and pedagogue from Erfurt, claims that religious instruction is immune to ideology and states, “whoever places Marxist-Leninist ideology on the same level as religion has misunderstood some basic ideas and should attend religious instruction where it can be learned” (1992: 29).

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To make their case, proponents of reform reminded their skeptical interlocutors that the GDR was not an easy place for Christians. They were unable to pursue their activities as they wished. For this reason, they advised against idealizing the experiences of the GDR (Beck 1994; Tiefensee 1998) and urged that the pastoral activities that were developed under the dictatorial state be seen as temporary solutions (Hoenen in Beck 1994: 64; N.N. 1991c; Neubert 2000b). Rainer Eppelmann, a pastor and Christian Democrat MP, admonished defenders of the status quo not to legalize the SED policy of de-Christianization (in N.N. 1996: 2). Similarly, Tiefensee (1998: 188) maintains that interconfessional religious instruction sanctions and even promotes the absence of religiosity for, as Schröder points out, “children cannot choose a religion” (N.N. 1997: 3). Tiefensee also complains that the churches have given up on religion as “they do not fight for it” (1998: 188). He invokes the perversity argument when he claims, “in order not to become a sect, one tends nolens volens to mutate into a sect” (1998: 188; see also Meier 1992: 183). Hans Joachim Meyer, a leading Catholic layman, uses the same line of reasoning when he refers to the danger of the “backyard mentality”: “whoever seeks only survival, will not survive” (1999).44 Neubert (1998, 2000), after virulently attacking the Catholics and their endeavors to “re-Christianize East Germany,” states that they have done a better job of reaching people and meeting their needs than his fellow Protestants have.45 “SOWOHL-ALS-AUCH” Advocates of reform took great pains to show the relevance of religious instruction. In line with the synergy argument, they claimed that that new and old reforms support each other. For example, the head of the German Bishops’ Conference, Bishop Lehmann of Mainz, speaks of a “necessary complement” (in N.N. 1991c: 509). Moreover, it was argued that with the introduction of religious instruction as part of the school curriculum, catechetical instruction could concentrate on activities of a genuinely religious nature (Beck 1994: 84; Friemel 1992: 30). Advocates of reform also stressed the positive effect of confronting plurality and the need to meet the demand.46 They argued that the proponents of the status quo should not fear the new situation and run away.47 Conceding that the status quo might, at first blush, seem attractive, Friemel enumerates a number of arguments in favor of reform: Is the church interested in religious instruction as part of the curriculum in the renewed school? Without much thought, the immediate answer may be: In God’s name no! The justification is as follows: parish catechetical instruction has worked well. Parish communities and their catechetical instructors wish to retain it and develop it freely in the new context. But with a little hesitation and consultation with western religion pedagogues before answering, it may seem that an immediate rejection may lead to missed opportunities for not only would “religious instruction” become part of the school curriculum, but also instructors attain a new status, that of teachers of religion. Universities would also have to create chairs in “religion and its didactics.” Our society and our school may benefit from this Christian presence.

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A SUSPENSION OF BELIEF OR CONVERSION? Marshalling the arguments put forward by proponents of reform, it is as though the “people’s church on hold” was now in the past and it was now business as usual. In this sense, the East German reformers presented themselves, to paraphrase Milosz, as “metaphysical Ketmans” (1990 [1951]). Milosz explains that this is an example of a heresy that “depends upon a suspended belief in a metaphysical principle of the world. A man attached to this Ketman regards the epoch in which he lives as antimetaphysical, and hence as one in which no metaphysical faith can emerge” (1990 [1951]: 72). There were advocates of reform among the Protestants, but also among the Catholics, as has already been mentioned. During the GDR, the eastern Bishops’ Conference had officially rejected the prevailing institutional order and declared their “political abstinence,” but after its demise, they canceled this policy of abstinence. With the collapse of state socialism, they argued that the moment had come to catch up to the present (Lange et al. 1993: 303).48 As I have previously claimed, this principle had been maintained against the image of the church in the FRG, the legitimate state. However, the latter appears as a “phantom image,” the actors having neglected the extent of changes that had taken place in the West. The actors themselves point to differences. Looking back, protagonists from East Germany argued that there were some differences between the stance of the proponents of the same positions in East and West Germany (see, for instance, Noack 1993: 63). Although it is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to assess the extent to which people resisted to the order, two ideal-typical categories of reformers can nonetheless be discerned: those who had resisted the order of the GDR through a form of heresy (Ketman) and the “converted.” The converted typically model their characteristics on others and take an apparently dogmatic view. This case shall be dealt with at greater length in the following chapter. Table 5.1 Conception of Religion, Proposals, and Strategies in the Discussion on Religious Instruction Status Quo (+) (“Minority church”)

Reform (“People’s church”)

Religion

Faith

Cultural good

Transcendence

Carriers

Parish

Parish + school

School

Recommendation

Catechetical Instruction

Interconfessional (LER)

Confessional Instruction

Strategies

“Cognitive retrenchment” (ghetto)

“Cognitive surrender”

“Cognitive retrenchment” (reconquest)

Reviewing the arguments, one notices that the religious actors all point to the secularized environment: either to reject or to advocate reform. The recommendations they propose recall Berger’s distinction between the ideal-typical options

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religious actors can advance in the face of modern secularity: cognitive retrenchment by creating a ghetto or reconquest versus cognitive bargaining or surrender (1992: 41). Reformers seek the spiritual reconquista of East Germany. Defenders of the status quo, for their part, are divided as to the best solution. The status quo plus, the interconfessional instruction for every child proposed by many Protestants—and some Catholics49—could be seen, according to Berger’s typology, as “cognitive surrender to the forces of history.”50 The status quo pertains to a cognitive retrenchment. In contrast with the discussion on the pastoral care of soldiers, evidence points to Catholics as “conservative revolutionaries.” Fauth (1999: 269) observes that in the Catholic Church in Brandenburg there was little support for religious instruction in the school beyond the church hierarchy, attesting that the parish had become quite institutionalized as the hallmark of the “church in the diaspora.” Once the imperatives of the common front against the party-state disappear, it becomes increasingly difficult to distinguish between Protestant and Catholic rhetoric, and the bishops’ control over the flock is weakened—all of which points to a host of positions on what had to be done. The conclusion of this chapter shall briefly examine the outcome of this conflict in the legislation of the eastern federal states and the reactions it triggered.

The Mediation of Conflict: Adjustment and Innovation “Aggiornemento”: The Constitutions of the Federal States Bishop Sterzinsky, president of the Berlin Bishops’ Conference, pleaded in July 1990 with the outgoing GDR government on behalf of the Catholic Church for the extension of the Basic Law and Article 7(3) (Mehrle 1998: 181; Richter 1991: 566). The Bund still rejected the validity of Article 7 of the Basic Law for the East German situation (see Zeddies in Mehrle 1998: 181), but some territorial churches had pronounced in favor of the introduction of western-style religious instruction, thus eroding the authority of the Bund.51 With German unification, Article 7(3) of the Basic Law was to be extended to the East. With its back to the wall, the Bund petitioned the East German government for a compromise within the framework of Article 7(3) that would grant equal status to civic and religious instruction (as Wahlpflichtfächer) (see letter reproduced in Mehrle 1998: 182). Within the scope of Article 7, it sought modifications of the dominant interpretation that would allow instruction to be provided by either the school or the church. Besides, the notwithstanding clause of the Basic Law on religious instruction, Article 141, was also seen as a possible recourse to counter Article 7 (Mehrle 1998: 183). The article specifies that “Article 7(3) 1 does apply in any state in which different provisions of state law were in force on 1 January 1949.” In any case, as this issue of education fell under the jurisdiction of the federal states, the issue had still to be dealt with in the state constitutions. It was assumed that there would be time to experiment with new models (Reiher in N.N. 1991c: 507).

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As expected, discussions on the form of religious instruction to be offered took place at the state level. As concerns the constitutions of the new eastern states, Quint contends that “the principle underlying the eastern state constitutions seemed to be as close to the spirit of the Round table draft as that of the Basic Law—and perhaps resembled the kind of compromise that could have emerged through the use of article 146 instead of Article 23” (1997: 99). This was certainly true on the issue of religious instruction. In most of the new constitutions, civic and religious instruction enjoy the same status, corresponding to the wishes of the Bund and most of the territorial church synods. This implies that civic instruction gains the rank of a normal subject, unlike in the West where it is a substitution (Ersatzfach) for those who opt out of religious instruction.52 One noticeable exception, however, was the legislation passed by the state of Brandenburg, which provided neither civic instruction nor religious instruction. The state invoked the state constitution of 1947 and made use of the notwithstanding clause (Article 141) to reject the general practice in the West and eventually introduce a new subject called “LER” (Lebensgestaltung, Ethik und Religionskunde).53 Whereas a consensus seemed to be in sight, the prospect of a new subject stirred a discussion between the church and the federal state and was adamantly rejected by advocates of western-like reform.54 Opposition to the Brandenburg Experiment Exponents of reform were particularly challenged by the defenders of the status quo, especially the proposals put forward by the architects of the status quo plus. They were infuriated by the course experimented in the state of Brandenburg. From the beginning of the experiment onwards, the discussion on the issue of religious instruction was carried out mainly between proponents of the western model and the state of Brandenburg. The critics of LER argued that Ethics and Religion could not be, de facto, neutral and that the successful enforcement of the status quo makes the state the only purveyor of values. This implies the deinstitutionalization of the principle contained in Article 7—the neutrality of the state, one of the fundamental principles of West Germany’s liberal institutional order (Huber 1998; Scheilke 1996). Bishop Huber, a former professor of theology in Heidelberg and bishop of the Evangelical Church in Berlin-Brandenburg since 1994, is one of the most prominent opponents of the Brandenburg experiment. He claims that it is the duty of the state to guarantee the positive right to religion. Article 7 of the Basic Law, he maintains, guarantees the freedom of worship, that is, the positive right of children and parents to religion, to receive instruction according to their church’s tenets, but does not guarantee the right of the church to provide religious instruction (Huber 1996; Henkys 1998: 296). He believes that the Brandenburg experiment nullifies the neutrality of the state and the right to choose.55 Visibly irritated, Bishop Demke commented that the principle of neutrality had acquired the status of dogma whose validity he questioned: “there should be reconsideration of a principle that is almost dogmatically repeated, namely that a state with a neutral worldview cannot reproduce its moral

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tenets” (1997: 130). Besides stressing the instrumental nature of the law, the bishop also cast doubt on whether the law provisions contained in the Basic Law actually guaranteed the church’s autonomy (1997: 130). Countering the claim that religious instruction had originally been introduced as a compromise, Wolfgang Huber avers the intrinsic value of the practice during an interview: “This regulation [Article 7 of the Basic Law] has no historical explanation, but given the current situation, it is undoubtedly appropriate” (1996: 577). The Catholic episcopacy also stressed the value of the religious instruction in the schools, the churches’ right to provide religious instruction, and the right of parents to choose (Fauth 1999: 345).56 The German bishops’ Conference notable launched a publicity campaign, “The freedom to believe, the right to know,” in which they championed the positive right to religious instruction.57 In a period of radical change, some actors seek to legitimate themselves and restore their integrity without reference to the old order (Lepsius 1999: 113). Conversely, other actors will associate people with institutions that have become illegitimate. Opponents of LER sought to discredit their adversaries by depicting the practice, and its advocates, as reminiscent of the GDR. For example, Andreas Meier, a Protestant pedagogue, claimed that the state of Brandenburg was still acting in the spirit of the GDR, an illegitimate state, and that those advocating the experiment, although often associated with the church, were being manipulated by the old (socialist) guard (Meier 1992; also in Pietsch 1996: 20). Similarly, it was invoked in the legal battle that followed the introduction of LER that Article 141 did not apply to Brandenburg as the Constitution of Brandenburg was enacted under the SED rule. It was argued that the constitution was not to compare with the democratic constitutions of the old federal states (in Fauth 1999: 334). Richard Schröder, an eastern theologian and former civil activist, claimed that implementing LER would amount to a reinstitutionalization of the GDR (Schröder in N.N. 1997). The issue of teachers was crucial to this particular discussion. Opponents of LER lamented that the future teachers of LER had been indoctrinated by the SED ideology. People with very little knowledge of religion would be responsible for the transmission of values. Gerhard Zeitz, department head for religious instruction in the Evangelical Church in Berlin-Brandenburg, explains that it is necessary that teachers represent a religion to transmit it to children (see also Degen 1991: 22; Huber 1996: 577; Huber 1998: 302). Baldermann asks: “What form would instruction take? Would religious instruction be the mere transmission of information? Would we place German instruction in the hands of a teacher who had no sense of the language?” (1990: 359). As they were losing ground, Protestant and Catholic opponents of LER increasingly radicalized their positions and invoked principles that were erected in orthodoxy and cemented in a legal body. This, we might claim, amounts to a sort of “cognitive retrenchment.” Incidentally, Fauth comments that the Catholic Church has undertaken a “Theologisierung des Faches,” a “theologicalization” of religious instruction following LER (1999: 304). This trend contrasts with the

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opening of the subject suggested at the Würzburg Synod in the 1970s. As no compromise could be reached with the state of Brandenburg and the LER experiment became a law on 28 March 1996, the churches, Christian parents and children as well as the CSU/CDU fraction in the Bundestag, brought the case to the Federal Tribunal of Justice. In this way, the decision was externalized to the courts. In 2002, the Federal Court of Justice finally made recommendations that officially allowed LER in the schools of Berlin-Brandenburg. Christian groups have challenged the decision of the court.

The Transformation of the East German Institutions The Protestants’ Ongoing Battle The Protestants now provide religious instruction both in the classroom and in the parish with a trend in favor of school instruction. Not all children enrolled in Protestant instruction are baptized, though the vast majority of children do in fact attend civic instruction (Hanisch and Pollack 1997; Simon 1999: 92). So the western model is being gradually institutionalized, but not without the superposition of eastern concepts (Degen in Fauth 2000).58 In general, teachers from the new federal states describe the situation as being far from ideal (AGEED 1999). Some complain that their point of view had not been taken seriously when important decisions were made, and point to a conflict of interests between teachers of religion and church employees. There are still church employees who are uneasy about the religious instruction in the schools. Pastors who had refused to participate in the teaching of the new subject were disciplined. Sanctions were taken by the church leadership of the Evangelical Church in Thuringia and the Lutheran Church in Saxony, such as the reduction of stipends (Mehrle 1998: 190). The Catholic Reformers’ Pyrrhic Victory The Catholic reformers were successful in advancing their interests, although it has perhaps been a pyrrhic victory. Indeed, the victors’ losses seem as great as those of the defeated. In spite of the introduction of a religious instruction in the schools, the principles of the “church in the diaspora” still prevail.59 For the most part, instruction is still being carried out on a weekly basis in the parishes, a practice that was developed during the GDR (Simon 1998: 566). The numbers of students wishing to take instruction in the schools have been too small to be able to offer religious instruction classes there. Catholic students have therefore been given time off from school to attend instruction in their parishes (Simon 1999: 93; Fauth 1999). School authorities recognize this instruction, and the students’ grades are entered on their school report cards.60 Moreover, religious days or weeks are still organized during school holidays to bring the children of the diaspora together. With few exceptions, this instruction is restricted to Catholic children (Simon 1999: 92). As a result, the concepts of the catechetical instruction and the place of the parish as the locus of religious life have endured.

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The issue of education in the discussion on the public role of religion in contemporary Germany has been definitive. It allowed us to gauge how the principles promoted by the “conservative revolutionaries” are legitimated and materialized in practice. For this purpose, the different interpretations of the alleged consequences of secularization and the differing opinions on the role of the actors have proven crucial. The new legislation and the continuity of practices exhibited, from the vantage point of both the defenders of status quo and reform, adjustment and innovation. Civic instruction has gained the status of an alternate to religious instruction—rather than a substitution for those who formally opt out of religious instruction. And, the Brandenburg model is being institutionalized.61 From the point of view of the FRG, it is synonymous with innovation. Indeed, the LER-experiment recalls what Hervieu-Léger (1999) has termed the “laïcité médiatrice” in France. She argues that the strict separation between church and state in France has given way to a state that gets increasingly involved as mediator between different religious denominations, a trend that could potentially reach Germany.62 That said, the defenders of western-style religious instruction have not yet given up. They have used legal means to reinstitutionalize their practices. The last chapter on the church welfare service provisions will exemplify at greater length how religious actors attempt to reinstitutionalize their principles.

Notes 1. The churches in the East had to reflect on their situation in the new institutional environment. In his book on the parish religious instruction in the GDR, Aldebert claims that “the concept of secularization [played] a substantial role in defining their position in the new situation” (1990: 292). 2. This subject has received a great deal of attention over the last decade. I refer the reader to major works on the subject. For the Catholic Church, see Simon (1992, 1993, 1998, 1999) and, for the Protestant churches, Mehrle (1998) and Domsgen (1998). For material related to the Brandenburg experiment or LER, see Fauth (1999, 2000). 3. The law stated: “It is the duty of the German democratic schools to educate the youth to independent and responsible human beings who are able and willing to serve the well-being of the people. The students are to be educated in a truthful democratic spirit of peaceful international cooperation. School education is the competence of the state alone. Private schools of any sorts are forbidden. Religious education is the responsibility of the churches. It can be given with their financial support and by their representatives. Instruction in the public schools is given to boys and girls jointly.” 4. On 20 June 1947, the Soviet authorities ordered the transfer of the administration of youth homes to the Ministry of People’s Education (Jostmeier 1995: 151). 5. A Catholic girl’s school in Berlin, a boarding school in Heiligenstadt as well as traditional Protestant colleges (the Thomasschule in Leipzig, the Schulpforta, and the Kreuzschule in Dresden) received authorization from the Soviets after the war.

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6. Approximately 3,000 high school students and an unknown number of university students were expelled between 1952 and 1953 (Blühm 1993: 241; Blühm and Onnasch 1993). 7. The Protestant and Catholic Church leadership had demanded the founding or refounding of confessional schools on the basis of their historical rights, state constitutions, and the Reichskonkordat (see Pilvousek 1994: 26). As this process was thought to take some time, they petitioned for interim provisions to make religious instruction part of the regular curriculum. 8. Article 40 reads: “Religious instruction is a concern of the religious associations. The exercise of this right is guaranteed.” This is reiterated in Article 44: “The right of the church to give religious instruction on school premises is guaranteed. Religious instruction is given by personnel selected by the church. No one may be forced to give, or be prevented from giving, religious instruction. Those entitled to bring up a child shall determine whether the latter shall receive religious instruction” (see Appendix II). 9. The nomination of Margot Honecker as Minister of Education combined with a new law on education (1965) brought the process of the deinstitutionalization of religion in the GDR’s schools and the control of the state authorities over the churches to completion. 10. The ambivalence between school or parish instruction is illustrated by Frickel when he observes: “The fact that the Christenlehre is to be given in the parish is completely part of their concept, although the loss of the right to teach the Christenlehre in the classroom is felt as a burden” (1982: 287). 11. Franz Georg Friemel comments on the 1950s: “There were usually more children of the same age participating in weekly religious instruction than there were at Sunday services. This has to do with the concept of obligatory instruction” (1993: 21). Afterwards, the number of children participating in instruction decreased. 12. Other, more traditional activities were also organized for children, such as choirs, ministrants’ preparation, etc. 13. Note that the state did not generally interfere with those activities, although it sometimes attempted to hinder the “religious weeks” through administrative harassment invoking, for instance, hygienic reasons. 14. The Christenlehre was conceived for seven-to-twelve year-olds—the younger children were invited to participate in instruction for preschool children while the older ones were encouraged to participate in confirmation classes (Frickel 1982: 286). 15. Aldebert mentions a sixty-six percent drop in participation from between 1972 and 1984 in Mecklenburg (1990: 193). Participation then stabilized at the beginning of the 1980s and probably increased toward the end of the decade (see Pollack 1994b: 283). 16. They developed their own concepts. The latter were presented in a journal, the Christenlehre, as well as in other publications. Fauth talks of a DDR-Pedagogic (2000: 510). 17. The subject “social studies” (Gesellschaftskunde) was introduced to replace the instruction in state ideology (Staatsbürgerkunde). 18. As mentioned above, the 1949 Constitution (Article 44) foresaw the right to give religious instruction on school premises by personnel selected by the church. It further emphasized the voluntary nature of the instruction for teachers and children as well as the parent’s right to decide. 19. Article (3) reads as follows: “Religious instruction shall form part of the curriculum in state and municipal schools, with the exception of nondenominational schools. Religious instruction shall, without prejudice to the state’s right of supervision, be given according to the principles of the religious denominations. No teacher may against his will be placed under an obligation to give religious instruction.” The article draws on the constitution of the Weimar Republic and was enacted following difficult negotiations between the social democrats and the Catholics. It is generally believed that the article was a compromise to recompense the loss of confessional schools (see Helmreich 1959: 103 ff.). 20. This point was notably made by Renate Höppner, pastor in Magdeburg, in an interview conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000).

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21. As with the example in Chapter II of Protestants who left their churches to enter the political sphere has shown. 22. One could interpret the bishop’s remark as a positive correlation between the separation of church and state and religiosity. Utilitarian theorists in the sociology of religion would probably credit the bishop with a good deal of sociological instinct. 23. Berger later entirely revised his position. See “The Desecularization of the World” (1999). 24. In an interview conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000). Schorlemmer (2000: 6, 1996) and Stock (1991: 28) also advocated the same point. 25. The state church was abolished in Sweden. 26. A point also made by Renate Höppner, pastor in Magdeburg, and Ruth Misselwitz, pastor in Berlin-Pankow in interviews conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000). 27. In an interview conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000). 28. Interview conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000). 29. According to Werner Simon, between thirteen and sixteen percent of the young people in the East are members of a Protestant Church while some four percent are said to be Catholics (Simon 1998). The number of children taking part in religious instruction at the beginning of the 1990s was estimated at some twenty percent—two percent in cities (Ritter 1992: 35). The low number of Christian children actually confers strength on the argument. 30. A frequently pronounced phrase, as Friemel reports, is that “the GDR is still alive in the schools” (1999). At a conference of Protestant religion schoolteachers, people working in the East bemoaned that their colleagues were inciting children to participate in the Jugendweihe ceremony (AGEED 1999). 31. In other words, the instruction should be introduced but not as a prerogative of the church. Thus, Article 4 of the Basic Law should be privileged over Article 7(3) as proposed by the reformers. 32. There are noticeable exceptions in West Germany as the examples of Bremen and Berlin indicate. 33. Birthler echoes the principle of the “conciliar process” in a draft from 1990: “the minister [explained] that the main point of her educational policies were to address the needs of people ‘to come to terms with their lives’ in order to ‘settle conflict without violence, accept others, and respect and protect the natural environment’” (quoted in Fauth 2000: 24). 34. This was a recurrent aphorism at the 1997 Protestant Church convention in Leipzig. 35. Conversely, reformers criticize some church officials for having accepted and even promoted secularization (Hoenen in N.N. 1991c; Neubert 1998, 2000). 36. Drawing on Luckmann, Neubert claims that religion does not disappear. Socialism, he maintains, can be contemplated as a religious phenomenon (2000: 379). Socialism is thereby deemed, in the words of Aron (1955), a “religion séculière.” 37. An expression borrowed from Max Weber and Friedrich Schleiermacher. 38. A prominent Catholic and social democrat MP, Wolfgang Thierse, reiterates this position in his book entitled Religion ist keine Privatsache (“religion is not a private matter”) (2000). 39. An expression notably used by Franz Georg Friemel, pedagogue and theologian in Erfurt, in an interview conducted by Barbara Thériault (1 April 1999). 40. This position is also officially endorsed by the Christian Democratic Union (CDU). For the example of Thuringia, see Thériault (2000b) and Colditz (in Mehrle 1998: 195). 41. Interview with Barbara Thériault (1 April 1999). 42. When the number of teachers of religion is sufficient but there are not enough teachers available to teach civic instruction, religious instruction cannot be provided, and vice versa. 43. Interview with Gabriele Remus, teacher of religion at the Albert-Schweizer Gymnasium and the Ratgymnasium in Erfurt, conducted by Barbara Thériault (21 November 2000). 44. As Minister of Education in the GDR, Meyer had advocated for a solution other than the one stipulated in the Basic Law. 45. Neubert said in a radio interview: “The Catholic Church tries to press ahead by means of power and political influence with its mission, direction, and assistance toward a sort of Chris-

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46. 47.

48. 49. 50.

51.

52.

53.

54.

55.

56. 57. 58.

59.

tianization—a re-Catholicization from above” (quoted in Lange 1996: 95-96). Later, he went as far as to suggest that the churches provide some kind of religiously sanctioned Jugendweihe to counter the still-popular practice in eastern Germany (see Döhnert 2000). A point notably made by Ehrhart Neubert, a theologian and member of the Gauck administration, in an interview conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000). It is recalled that church officials had been invited on many occasions to schools in the early 1990s. Furthermore, children without church affiliation voluntarily attended religious instruction (Huber 2000: 7; Hoenen in N.N. 1991c; Neubert 2000b: 14). Friemel also notes that the transfer of people from the West to the East is bound to attract new participants (in Richter 1991: 566). It is the responsibility of the church to offer religious instruction and not let Christians down. Neubert states concerning the situation, “The demand exists, but people fear that they’ll have to make a commitment to the church” (2000b: 14; also Hoenen in N.N. 1991c). An extract of the public declaration emitted by the East German bishops is rendered in Chapter IV. The “Aktionskreis Halle” notably pronounced itself in favor of LER (Fauth 1999: 282). Berger draws a parallel between certain theological traditions and the options they typically advocate. According to him, the Barthian theologians and the liberal Protestants respectively exhibit cognitive surrender and cognitive bargaining while the Catholics (before the Second Vatican Council) generally tend to favor a retrenchment (1992: 42-44). There were divergences between the Bund and the territorial churches’ positions. See Reiher (1991b: 488) and Mehrle (1998: 188). As with the issue of peace, a memorandum was drafted. It stated: “The reduction of religious instruction foreseen in the constitution or perhaps replacing it with a subject such as Life/Ethics, as is sometimes requested, would represent an irresponsible shirking of the school’s educational duty” (EKD 1994a: 81). The memorandum recommends diaconal and ecumenical instruction. There are slight differences. In Thuringia, religious instruction was introduced as a compulsory subject (ordentliches Lehrfach) for those with a church affiliation. In Mecklenburg-WesternPomerania, civic instruction—or Philosophy—is foreseen for all students. Finally, the WestBerlin model was extended to the eastern sector of the city-state. The religious instruction in the capital takes place in schools after classes (see Mehrle 1998). The party in power may have influenced this decision. The state of Brandenburg was the only eastern state that was not controlled by the Christian democrats and where the provisions of the Basic Law on religious instruction were not extended (see Thériault 2000b). There were, in the first phase of the experiment, two subjects: Lebensgestaltung-Ethik and religious instruction. The churches were invited to participate in the subject LebensgestaltungEthik. The Catholic Church refused to participate from the start. The Evangelical Church in Berlin-Brandenburg voiced some criticism but, nonetheless, accepted to participate. It pulled out, however, in 1995 before the experiment became a law (Fauth 2000: 239 ff.; Mehrle 1998: 211). Huber pointed out in an interview conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000): “There are people in both the East and West who associate the idea of the separation of church and state with a tremendous faith in the state by saying: ‘the state should have the responsibility for a single subject on religion and ethics with a place given to Christianity.’ The state would then determine its contents, educate teachers, and administer it.” Their position is reminiscent of arguments presented in 1918 and after World War II in the West (Helmreich 1959; Baldermann 1990; Lönne 1996). “Religion in der Schule: Die Freiheit zu glauben. Das Recht zu wissen,” DBK Bonn (date of publication unknown). The Protestant and Catholic churches in Brandenburg and Berlin have increasingly promoted a model similar to the one prevalent in most eastern federal states where both “Ethik” and “Religion” are alternative subjects or Wahlpflichtfächer (Fauth 2000). In Thuringia no adjustments were made to Article 7 of the Basic Law.

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60. This is notably the case in Brandenburg where, since 1996, the catechetical instruction has been recognized and children can be exempted from the LER (Fauth 2000: 237). 61. As the majority of schoolchildren now select civic instruction, we might claim that the state is now de facto the provider of teachings on moral value. 62. As early as 1919, the state of Saxony had toyed with the idea of introducing a nondenominational religious instruction controlled by the state, something reminiscent of the LER (Helmreich 1959: 107). Also, the trend described would correspond to the socialists’ and liberals’ proposals at the time of the draft of the Weimar Constitution.

Chapter 6

SOCIAL WELFARE PROVISIONS At the Institutional Periphery

 The extension of the Basic Law granted church-related organizations a privileged status to shape and implement welfare and social service provisions (Angerhausen et al. 1998: 290). Protestant and Catholic churches have undergone organizational consolidation and far-reaching expansion in the field of social welfare under the leitmotif of “subsidiarity.” As a matter of fact, the social role of the churches in East Germany was not primarily established through missionary activity. Instead, it was strengthened after the political change through the provision of social services within the East German welfare system (Pilvousek 2000: 35; Tangemann 1995: 163). In view of the debates unleashed in the two cases depicted in the previous chapters on the churches’ public role and their cooperation with the state, the absence of major conflict in the field of social welfare demands some consideration. As the proponents of reform have not failed to notice in the course of the “politics of institutionalization,” the social welfare activities correspond to the conception of a people’s church and are at odds with the principles otherwise proclaimed by the advocates of the East German status quo. I have dealt with the organizational innovation and adjustment the “conservative revolutionaries” have helped bring about; this last chapter focuses on continuity and adaptation and, above all, how actors legitimate them. Despite the different institutional orders prevalent in the two German states, the church welfare organizations in the GDR and the FRG could continue their activities in the field of social welfare as set in the Weimar Republic. As a result, Notes for this section begin on page 134.

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the churches in Germany do not just administer the “religious,” they are also big social agencies with their own personnel and organizational structures whose goals are related but constantly in tension. This chapter begins by sketching the formation and structuration of a social welfare “organizational field” following Weimar social legislation and its implications for church activities. Attention will then be turned to the GDR. Social policy was at the periphery of the institutional order of the socialist republic. As the party-state showed a conciliatory attitude to church welfare agencies, the churches enjoyed a noticeable social presence. This, as will be shown, was sometimes at odds with the guiding metaphor of the “Church in socialism” and, most notably perhaps, the principle of “political abstinence.” For this reason, a review of the patterns of argumentation presented by representatives of the church and their welfare agencies to legitimize their presence in East Germany, both before and after the collapse of socialism, will be presented. Both the Protestant and the Catholic representatives of Diakonie and Caritas, the church welfare agencies, continuously pointed out their weaknesses and advocated the need for reform throughout the GDR and beyond the collapse of state socialism. But, as we will see, substantial reforms were never actually carried out and conflict was internalized within church structures.

The Establishment of a Field … Theda Skocpol once wrote, “we must make social policies the starting points as well as the end points of analysis” (quoted in Pierson 1993: 627). According to Skocpol’s insight, “past policies influence politics” in structuring struggles. In other words, a policy or a series of policies can have far-reaching consequences. Weimar social legislation is a case in point. At its outset, the Weimar Republic was marked by conflict between church, state, and opposition over the division of labor and the concept of the state (Zimmer 1997: 80). During the 1920s, important social laws, the Imperial Youth Welfare Act (Reichsjugendwohlfahrtsgesetz) in 1922 and the Imperial Welfare Compulsory Order (Reichsfürsorgepflichtverordnung) in 1924, were enacted to reconcile different positions. The Imperial Welfare Compulsory Order is notably remembered for instating the independence of the “free welfare associations” with the provision of state funding, principles that have been defined by the legal term “subsidiarity” and are unique to Germany’s institutional order.1 The “free welfare associations” provided, along the state authorities, social services to the population. As such, new legislation acknowledged the churches’ desire to continue their work and maintain their influence over the population through their associations. In his biography of the famous churchman Martin Niemöller, Schreiber (1997: 42) tells how the church attempted to nullify the influence of the new democratic order established at Weimar on Christians through the work of the “Inner Mission,” the Protestant welfare association.2

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The first confessional welfare associations were established during the nineteenth century. The Protestant “Inner Mission” was founded in 1848 and the Catholic “Charitas-Verband” (later “Deutscher Caritasverband” or “Caritas”) was established in 1897. The Inner Mission was created as a movement outside of church structures. The associations were created by pious social entrepreneurs such as Wichern, Stoecker, Fliedner, and Bodelschwingh, to mention just a few. Whereas Caritas could be defined as a subsidiary organization of the Catholic Church (Kaiser 1997: 180), the Protestant organization had an autonomous and sometimes strained relationship with the church. One could not agree whether Diakonie was part of the church’s genuine mandate and did not know whether to integrate the associations of the Inner Mission to the church structures. Although an agency was later created within the church (the “Evangelisches Hilfswerk”), two different apparatuses were developed with their own agendas. As we shall see, this conflict has run through the history of Protestantism ever since the foundation of welfare associations (see Kaiser 1999). The introduction of the social laws produced incentives for the creation and expansion of social welfare organizations and encouraged their participation in policymaking (see Kaiser 1995: 171). Following the new legislation, the two welfare organizations became more professional and centralized their activities, setting up offices in Berlin, the center of government. Although most organized groups apart from the churches promoted state solutions to alleviate social problems and did not originally intend to join their Christian counterparts in founding professional organizations, other “free welfare associations” were created: a central Jewish organization in 1917, the “Arbeiterwohlfahrt” (AWO) in 1919— founded by the social democrats who had until then been hostile to the idea of private welfare—and, a year later, the German Red Cross and the “Vereinigung der freien gemeinnützigen Wohlfahrtseinrichtungen Deutschlands” (renamed “Deutscher Paritätischer Wohlfahrtsverband” in 1932), a consortium of nondenominational, private welfare organizations. The process was completed with the creation of an umbrella organization representing the six free welfare associations, the “Consortium of Free Welfare” (Liga der Freien Wohlfahrtspflege), in December 1924 to coordinate the free welfare associations as well as offer expertise and guidance to the government and its ministerial bureaucracy. This first wave of organizational foundations was consolidated with the establishment of the consortium, and attests to the creation and structuring of an organizational field as is usually defined in the study of organizations. Powell and DiMaggio distinguish four aspects in the constitution of a field: “an increase in the extent of interaction among organizers in the field; the emergence of sharply defined interorganizational structures of domination and patterns of coalition; an increase in the information load with which organizations in a field must contend; and the development of a mutual awareness among participants in a set of organizations that are involved in a common enterprise” (1991 [1983]: 65). They contend that the construction of a field coincides with organizational isomorphism, i.e., that organizations are increasingly likely to resemble each other, and

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the emergence of cartels (for religious organizations, see Berger 1973 [1967]: 143). In any case, the legislation became self-reinforcing for the “free welfare associations,” which soon resembled a cartel and severely limited the access of new organizations. The consolidation of free welfare associations shaped the “dual system” of private and state service providers and the corporatist tendencies characteristic of Germany’s social welfare (Sachße 1995: 133). In retrospect, it might indeed be claimed that the institutionalization of a historically embedded compromise set the tone for further conflict. As Anheier points out: “the present legal, political, and organizational profile of third sector offers more information about the conflicts of German society as they existed at the beginning of the century than it does about present conflict” (1990: 314).3 In West Germany subsidiarity became the cornerstone of the social system. The principle was reiterated, and indeed reinforced, with the 1961 Social Welfare Act (Bundessozialhilfegesetz) and various court rulings, and it evolved with these new interpretations (Anheier 1990: 329).4 Going beyond the original Weimar legislation to ensure the protection of private organizations, especially the two dominant Christian welfare associations, it came to guarantee their priority over public welfare service providers in the Federal Republic. As a result, the free welfare associations expanded in conjunction with the growth of the welfare state. With the enactment of the Youth Welfare Act (Jugendwohlfahrtsgesetz), the principle of subsidiarity was also extended to youth services. The effect was that church welfare agencies became important partners of the state in the provision of social welfare services and had a role in social welfare policymaking.5 The two confessional associations eventually came to control over two-thirds of all free social organizations—with a visible presence in kindergartens and youth homes, but also in hospitals and counseling centers. In fact, the two confessional welfare agencies were together the largest employer in West Germany after the state and, until recently, enjoyed comprehensive financial support.

… At the Institutional Periphery In the GDR, official doctrine dictated that socialism would eliminate all social ills. Socialism meant all-encompassing social welfare (Schulz 1997: 768). In reality, social policy in the GDR was subordinated to the imperatives of economic mobilization and political rationality, meaning that it was subject to the vagaries and arbitrariness of the center. A “caring policy” was to compensate for the deficiencies of a planned economy and political centralism. The party-state alone defined and formulated social policy. Free welfare organizations—including the “Arbeiterwohlfahrt,” the socialist welfare association—were therefore dissolved and their property transferred to the state (Hübner and Kaiser 1999: 60). Only confessional organizations, Inner Mission and Caritas, could continue some of their activities under the auspices of the church.6 Specific social problems— involving those segments of the population not contributing to the country’s eco-

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nomic imperatives—were relegated, and therefore externalized, to the churches (Reuer 1982: 228). As Monsma and Soper point out, “the fact that the socialist project never placed as great an importance on the social services offered by church agencies as it did on public education, which involved the inculcation of values, no doubt made it easier to adopt public policy that included religious associations” (1997: 208). As a matter of fact, social policy was never an active instrument of state policy and remained on the periphery of the institutional order (Rudloff 1998: 228). In contrast with the situation in neighboring socialist countries, the role of church-related organizations in providing social welfare in the GDR was unique, to the point where some scholars evoked an East German Sonderweg (Rudloff 1999: 60; Hübner and Kaiser 1999). In Poland, for example, Caritas and other associations were forbidden. Their services were put under state control in 1950 when the church refused to sever its links with the Vatican (Viertel 1997: 68). Confessional homes in the GDR were, however, subject to bureaucratic harassment and state monitoring. Their domains of activity were generally “reorientated” to provide services for the nonproductive forces of society (Reuer 1982: 228). Nevertheless, church welfare activities eventually obtained public financial support and came to be seen as legitimate partners to the state. Diakonie and Caritas enjoyed considerable autonomy in the provision of services, the training of specialists, and the application of their own sociopedagogical concepts. Most importantly, they enjoyed considerable internal freedom, and maintained contact with their western counterparts. However asymmetrical the church provisions in relation to those of the state were, a “dual system” could de facto survive. And although there existed no formal claim to subsidiarity, the independence of the “welfare associations” and state financing, the hallmarks of the principle of subsidiarity, were maintained. The system in the GDR could therefore be said to be in some continuity with the tradition established by the Weimar legislation. The Confessional Welfare Associations PARTNERSHIP AND AUTONOMY The partnership between state authorities and church welfare organizations was established through agreements between the Ministry of Health and the Bund in 1961 and 1969 and was formally consecrated with the signing of an agreement in 1975 that guaranteed financial support for confessional welfare work in hospitals and other social facilities. The state thereby insured the continuity of church welfare activities and recognized their work in some areas of activities (BEK in der DDR 1975).7 Instead of drawing on the Marxist critique of welfare associations,8 party officials praised the work of the confessional organizations throughout the 1970s and 1980s and stressed the common humanistic concerns of socialism and Christianity “through different motivations and ideological perspectives” (Aranyos in Petzold 1981; Reuer 1982: 213; in Ziegler 1982: 32). From the party-state’s vantage point, the churches’ welfare agencies were a significant source of revenue.9 Although their role was marginal in comparison to

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that of West Germany, church-related organizations still provided between seven and ten percent of all inpatient treatment (Weiß 1990: 557; Heider 1993: 190). These services were open to all, regardless of ideological background. Since the territory of the GDR was traditionally Protestant, Diakonie operated most of the social facilities and employed more people (approximately 15,700), one-third of all church workers. Despite the small number of Catholics in the GDR, Caritas nonetheless had between 10,000 and 11,000 employees (DCV 1990a; Weiß 1990: 557). As church membership declined, Diakonie and Caritas recruited employees among people without church affiliation, including those who had been ostracized for not participating in the Jugendweihe or had been refused a visa to West Germany (Talandier 1994).10 Although the party-state encouraged Caritas and Diakonie in their work with the elderly and the handicapped, it curtailed their involvement in other areas such as education. Drawing on the Soviet example, youth care was transferred from social service administration to the Ministry of Education and a wide range of services remained almost exclusively under the auspices of the state. From the 1950s on, few healthy children were assigned to confessional youth homes by state authorities. As a result, this traditional domain of church activity almost completely disappeared, and most youth homes confined their activities to the handicapped (Jostmeier 1996: 201). Very few youth homes and kindergartens remained open, and those that did received no state financial support.11 Since the state held a monopoly over education and youth care, most church activities with children and adolescents were concentrated in the parishes (Schefold 1995: 416). These activities—religious instruction and preparation for the sacraments— were, in turn, more religious in profile than those they had been forced to relinquish (Kleßman 1993: 43). IN THE “TABOO ZONE” Most church welfare activities concentrated on those areas (hospitals, homes for the elderly and the handicapped) for which they received state financing. Social work remained marginal: as socialism was to eradicate all social problems, there was no official need for it. For this reason, church social work was carried out in what might be called a “taboo zone” (Rudloff 1998: 228). During the 1980s, the churches—especially the Protestant one—engaged in this field of activity. They set up initiatives with people suffering from alcoholism and psychiatric troubles, the handicapped, young offenders, and ex-convicts. The AGAS (“Evangelische Arbeitsgemeinschaft zur Abwehr von Suchtgefahren”), a Protestant association similar to ‘Alcoholics Anonymous,’ was established to deal with alcohol- and drug-related problems in the GDR. Those services were run and financed by the church.12 Catholics also set up similar structures to provide counseling activities (Broch 1990). In 1976, the Bishops’ Conference authorized family and couples counseling (Berliner Ordinarienkonferenz 1976: 5). Most of the counseling took place in the parish and was offered by volunteers, Caritas workers, and the Seelsorgereferat, the office for pastoral work of the church (DCV 1990a: 82). Con-

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versely, Caritas was in charge of the “frohe Herrgottstunden” and the “religiöse Kinderwoche,” which provided religious instruction to children, thus linking pastoral and charitable activities. Church training and qualifications for social work were not recognized by the state, and salaries were low (see Geisler 1997: 342).13 Although social work (“offene Arbeit”) was marginal in scope and breadth, it received much praise from church officials.

Within the Church (and Besides It) The Fusion to the Churches’ Structures The Soviet occupiers had authorized church-related activities on the grounds of the freedom of religious worship. In order to safeguard the assets of the confessional welfare associations, the Protestant and Catholic churches undertook a fusion of their respective organizational structures. The network of Catholic social organizations was transferred to the authority of the bishop assisted by a Caritas director in each of the districts (Juridiktionen). It has been asserted that the Caritas conference, an organizational structure created to regulate the delivery of aid after World War II, was the precursor of the first Bishops’ Conference (Hostombe 1994: 394; Pilvousek 2000: 9-10). Its membership—generally the priests of a district’s largest town—eventually became the spokespeople for their bishops in the West and, later, the auxiliary bishops. As a result, the rapprochement between Caritas and the Catholic Church in the late 1940s did not create much tension (DCV 1990a). In addition to the organizational fusion, the religious nature of social welfare was also explicitly acknowledged. Of significance is the fact that the expression “social charitable work” that had been used to describe Caritas activities was replaced by “church charitable work” (Kroll 1998: 97). “CARITAS IS NOT A POLITICAL ACTIVITY” Through Caritas, the Catholic episcopacy ensured the church’s social presence in society. Church activities were not solely directed at church members since they mostly served non-Christians. Similarly, the church recruited workers who were not necessarily affiliated with the organization. The church also fostered links with state authorities, notably the Ministry of Health and the Ministry of International Commerce, and received substantial state funding. The 1975 agreement on hospitals and other social facilities that was originally negotiated between the Bund and the Ministry of Health was extended to the Catholic Church. Welfare activities stood in marked contrast with the promoted stance of “political abstinence.” Against this contextual background, the Bishops’ Conference issued a communiqué in 1978 stating that Caritas was not a political activity—a statement the bishops reiterated in 1985 (Berliner Bischofskonferenz 1978a; Lange et al. 1993: 441-442). Caritas was therefore referred to as a “silent Christian charity” (Pilvousek 2000: 29), and any contact with state authorities had to take place at—or at least be supervised by—the central Caritas office in Berlin.

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“DIAKONIE IS PART OF THE CHURCH” As with the Catholics, the assets of the Protestant social welfare associations were transferred to the territorial churches as the “special estate of the Evangelical Church” (Angerhausen et al. 1998: 105). Diakonie offices were created within the territorial churches and a “Diakonie commission” was established within the Bund (see Dietrich 1999: 103). As a result, the welfare agency was brought closer to the church, which referred to this area of activity as the “life and expression” (“Lebens- und Wesenäußerung”) of the organization, as the calling of the church.14 The rapprochement at the organizational level was, however, accompanied by conflict between the administration of Diakonie and church leadership (Angerhausen, Backhaus-Maul et al. 1998: 108-109; Hübner 1998: 259). The polysemy inherent to the “Church in socialism” and its principles of accommodation and opposition were reflected within the discussions between the Protestant welfare organization and the church. In contrast to the activities on peace, a propensity to accommodation was repeatedly suggested by the church. The ecclesiastical authorities argued that Diakonie nolens volens stabilized the party-state’s rule, while the representatives of the Diakonie maintained that social work should be recognized as one of the prime mandates of the church in a socialist society and lamented that it still remained on the periphery of the Protestant project (Wagner 1974: 39, 1989: 139). Several interpretations coexisted that stressed different aspects of the formula of the “Church in Socialism,” ranging from the position of the CDU-East (see Planer-Friedrich 1982) to the “Diakonie an der Gesellschaft” (social deaconry) (Turre 1985: 404). Most of the representatives of the welfare agencies, such as director of the Diakonie in the GDR Ernst Petzold, emphasized, echoing Schönherr’s formula, that the “Church in socialism” has the duty, as a “witness and service community,” to serve the population, to deal with the problems, wherever they are (Petzold 1978: 170; 1983: 156). Through social welfare activities, it was argued, the gospel is sent to the world and the church gains in credibility (Petzold 1985), arguments that are reflected in Catholic statements as well (for instance Wanke 1992: 28). Ernst Petzold stated on many occasions: “The question is not how free we are. The question is how can we really fulfill with spirituality the big free space that we have” (1985: 249; also Ziegler 1982: 33). However, in view of the good relations cultivated with state authorities, a compromising attitude was often criticized (Winkler 1990: 28). Indeed, Diakonie’s good relations with state authorities and the CDU-East, as well as its identification with the tradition of the people’s church, were generally frowned upon by church officials (Jostmeier 1996: 178; Goeckel 1993). This trend reinforced the discredit that had already afflicted the representatives of the organization since its compromising attitude to the National Socialists during the Third Reich.15 Petzold also reports the widely shared opinion among parishioners that the church should resume its activities in hospitals and the inpatient services and concentrate on its original mandate, to the strictly “religious” and the parish life.16 As we will see, the tensions that originated within the church over the conflict over the organization’s

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prime mandate and finally resulted in the foundation of a social welfare organization outside of the church structures, the Inner Mission, were not overcome through their fusion in the GDR. At a conference in Wittenberg commemorating the 125th anniversary of the foundation of the Inner Mission, a discussion took place that epitomized the conflict between the church and the Diakonie over the social role of Protestantism. In his opening paper, Heinz Wagner, the nestor of the Diakonie in the GDR (Neukamm 1994; Winkler 1990: 27), spoke of the “unfinished program of 1848” (Wagner 1974: 39, also 1989: 145). Diakonie failed, Wagner contended, to meet what Wichern, the founder of the Inner Mission, had in mind in 1848, namely the acknowledgment of the church role at the social level. Echoing the formula “Church in socialism,” Wagner cynically commented: “Inner Mission and Diakonie still exist next to the church, neither from the church nor within the church” (1974: 50). Diakonie, Wagner advised, must be recognized as part of the church. As today, he wrote, “the formula life and expression of the church is a scam” (Wagner 1974: 48). The claim according to which Diakonie is at the vanguard of new social problems was, according to Wagner, never materialized.17 Echoing a Marxist critique of private social work, the churchman stressed the passive character of Diakonie and its role in stabilizing the system in which it evolves. In short, the institutionalization of Diakonie as a guiding metaphor of the church and its vanguard role had failed to be put into practice. The Conflict over Guiding Metaphors The recurrence of statements such as “Caritas is not a political activity” or the emphasis on the “witness and service community” exhibits the quandary represented by the churches’ welfare provisions—especially in the inpatient homes and hospitals. Two organizing principles, the religious profile of the church-sponsored activities and the professionalism of the services they offered, stood in permanent tension. The stance of the confessional welfare agencies between state and churches was routinely referred to as a Spannungsverhältnis, as a relation of tension (Petzold 1981: 153; Turre 1985).18 The cooperation with the state authorities, the dependence on external sources of financing, the focus of activity in the inpatient sector, and the secularization of society combined within the “inner secularization” of social welfare facilities—through the recruiting of workers not affiliated with the church—were constant sources of concern for the Catholic and Protestant churches (Berliner Bischofskonferenz 1978b; Turre 1985). These concerns were increasingly reflected within the welfare organizations after the ratification of the 1975 agreement that officially sanctioned the partnership between confessional and state welfare social organizations. THE CHURCH REPRESENTATIVES AND THE INTERNALIZATION OF CONFLICT In a paper dated from 5 to 6 June 1978, “Zielstellung und Aufgabe katholische Krankenhäuser hier und heute,” the Bishops’ Conference took a position on the dilemma faced by Caritas in hospitals (Berliner Bischofskonferenz 1978b). Refer-

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ring to the resolution of the Dresden Pastoral Synod, the bishops pronounced for the enhancement of the religious profile of their hospitals. They stated: “There exists two particularly important duties to fulfill the church’s goals in Catholic hospitals: the pastoral care of patients and employees and the promotion of a Christian environment in the hospital” (Berliner Bischofskonferenz 1978b: 4). The conflict between these guiding metaphors was internalized within the prevailing structures. The spiritual dimension and the pastoral care of the patients (Ganzheitlichkeit) as well as the role of the hospital director in motivating his employees are emphasized to legitimize the activities of Caritas. More generally, the caritative and missionary dimension of the church had been stressed in the wake of the Second Vatican Council (Pilvousek 2000: 35). This was acknowledged at the Dresden Pastoral Synod in a resolution entitled “Diakonie der Gemeinde” (deaconry of the parishes). However, as in many other synodal resolutions, the document met with no concrete response. The proposal to establish Diakonie groups was realized in only a few parishes (Lange and Pruß 1996; Pilvousek 2000: 21). As with Caritas, both the church authorities and the representatives of Diakonie invariably pointed to their weaknesses and stressed the need for reform to acknowledge the religious character of their services. In order to enhance the religious profile and vanguard role of Diakonie, it was argued that it is imperative to react to social problems when they emerge and enhance the position of the parish.19 In addition, it was advocated that the inpatient sector of activity should be reduced or, at least, consolidated (Krusche 1974; Petzold 1981: 155; Turre 1985; Wagner 1974). In any case, Diakonie ought to differentiate itself from the state services in stressing ethical issues and, as the Catholic Bishops’ Conference mentioned in its 1978 paper, the complete dimension of social and health care (Ganzheitlichkeit) if it is to be legitimated in the society. The representatives of the Diakonie and Caritas also took great pains to justify their work with regards to the church and, it is also important to notice, the state. They inveterately called for a reform of their structures and activities that was never carried out. THE REPRESENTATIVES OF THE CHURCH WELFARE: A PROPENSITY TO SELF-SUBVERSION Commenting on Diakonie in the GDR, Heinz Wagner, an influential man within the organization, stated that the “Christian contribution” in the social field was always questioned: “The ideologically crucial issue is: can Diakonie only exist as an interim solution until the realization of socialism or does Diakonie also function as an aid and initiator of social action?” (1989: 137). In fact, it could be claimed that the workers of the Diakonie showed a propensity to self-subversion. The representatives of Diakonie reiterated on several occasions that the inpatient activities in hospitals and homes (Anstaltsdiakonie) were not indispensable. For example, Martin Ziegler, director of the “Inner Mission and Hilfswerk” of the Evangelical Church in Berlin-Brandenburg, commented: “Diakonie will exist in the form of Anstaltsdiakonie only as long as there is a real social necessity.

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Diakonie’s duty is something we must maintain, but Anstaltsdiakonie shouldn’t be maintained at any price. That said, we wouldn’t thoughtlessly abandon the possibility it offers. That gives us a lot of liberty” (quoted in Reuer 1982: 237). Despite frequent promises of reform, the number of inpatient homes and their capacity remained roughly constant throughout the GDR (DCV 1990a; Schmitt 1992). Reform was externalized to the future. Petzold, director of the Diakonie in the GDR, explained with regard to this, “as long as the Evangelical Diakonie has the freedom to do socially recognized work in an Evangelical way, a retreat would be a sign of ingratitude and disobedience” (1981: 150). However, in an attempt to remedy the situation, a commission within the Church Province of Saxony proposed in 1989, shortly before the collapse of the GDR, reforms that would raise the voluntary “church tax” on his territory for gaining independence from the state and the western churches (see Falcke 1997; Talandier 1994: 94). The vanguard role of Diakonie and social work in the parishes were also strongly advocated by the authors of the paper (see Planungsgruppe der Provinzsächsischen Kirche 1989: 38). Despite the professed commitment to change, the proposed reforms were not realized before the “Wende.” The Demise of State Socialism Stressing the urgency to react to the new situation, Caritas and Diakonie commonly established in May 1990 the “Consortium of Free Welfare in the GDR,” an organization similar to the umbrella organization established in the Weimar Republic and reinstated in the Federal Republic (see protocol of the Arbeitsgemeinschaft der Spitzenverbände der Freien Wohlfahrtspflege 1990). They invited two mass organizations, the East German Red Cross and the Volkssolidarität (People’s Solidarity), to join them to lobby the newly elected parliament on matters of social policy. Their first initiatives were to petition for state funding of church activities in the former “taboo zone” (kindergartens and youth homes) and the recognition of church workers’ qualifications (Braun 1993: 37).20 The consortium also established contacts with western free welfare associations (DCV 1990b; Petzold 1990) as Caritas and Diakonie concurrently prepared for fusion with their western counterparts, the largest free welfare service providers in the western federal states. The first step was to gain the status of a free welfare association. As early as the summer of 1990, the first associations were registered and then joined the western organizations (Krause 1993: 118). As such, Caritas and Diakonie severed their organizational links with the churches and became members of the federal consortium of free welfare associations. Contact with the churches was still maintained, but at a lower level.21 The free welfare associations and several joint Catholic and Protestant initiatives were set up at the federal level to insure that subsidies and legal rights enjoyed by church welfare associations in the West would be preserved in the Treaty of Unification and in the constitutions of the eastern states. The West German welfare associations sought assurances that the term subsidiarity would be enshrined in the Treaty of Unification. Their goal was reinstitutionalization, or

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Wiederaufbau, of the dual system characteristic of (West) Germany ensured under the principle of subsidiarity. In fact, it may be contended that subsidiarity became the motto of expansion.22 It should be noted that the new Social Act of the GDR defined neither the principle of subsidiarity nor the parameters of cooperation of public and private service providers, as the eastern consortium had not attempted to have them included (Schwarzer 1990: 37). The newly reestablished Protestant welfare association, along with its Catholic counterpart, urged the restitution of social organizations that had been seized during the decimation of the organizational landscape under the Third Reich and the GDR.23 They also sought to gain control of previously state-run social organizations and to enter new fields of activity. Of note were the establishment of outpatient clinics (Sozialstationen) to replace the former Kreisstellen—their number increased tenfold (Schwarzer 1990: 37). For these reasons, by the end of 1991, the number and capacity of social organizations under the auspices of the Protestant and Catholic welfare associations had increased considerably (see Tables below). Table 6.1

Caritas in the GDR/New Federal States

Area/ Service Recipients

No. of Institutions 31.12.1988

Health Youth Family Elderly Handicapped Others* Total

138 168 24 102 22 73 468

Capacity (places) 5071 8149 672 3463 1024 —-** 18379

No. of Institutions 31.12.1991

Capacity (places)

No. of Institutions 31.12.1993

Capacity (places)

208 284 38 149 65 97 841

8621 12839 306 5920 2005 577 30268

189 367 60 160 90 198 1064

9838 15535 288 6792 3333 1441 37227

Source: Thériault (1998: 612). *Others: services and counseling for “people in special situations,” as well as formation and administration centers. **Not available.

Table 6.2 Area/ Service Recipients Health Youth Family Elderly Handicapped Others* Total

Diakonie in the GDR/New Federal States No. of Institutions 01.01.1989 359 290 114 234 127 215 1198

Capacity (places) 6175 12843 3441 9930 7250 2338 41952

No. of Institutions 31.12.1991 298 441 167 319 313 488 2026

Capacity (places)

No. of Institutions 31.12.1994

Capacity (places)

12248 18447 1547 16113 12801 4196 65352

370 839 193 432 471 502 2807

16464 36543 2043 24251 23221 8890 111412

Source: Thériault (1998: 614). *Others: services and counseling for “people in special situations,” as well as formation and administration centers.

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The Politics of Reinstitutionalization Early initiatives led to the rapid creation of independent associations, a defining event that influenced further discussions.24 In this situation, potential issues of debate between the churches and welfare agencies were externalized with any discussion limited to free welfare agencies (Bretschneider 1996: 76). As with other cases presented in this study, commissions were mandated to engage in a wider reflection process (Puschmann 1996). The welfare agencies spent little time on internal discussion of the issue as they were engaged in the initial phase of reinstitutionalizing the western status quo, especially the principle of subsidiarity, the cornerstone of the West German social welfare system. Interestingly, those described as “conservative revolutionaries” were only partly committed to this activity. Since social welfare activities were already being criticized within the churches in the GDR, neither Protestants nor Catholics were able to invoke the “positive experience” of the GDR to the extent they had been able to do in previous cases. For this reason, the remainder of this chapter will first examine the rhetoric of the proponents of reinstitutionalization to reassert their principles and legitimize consolidation and expansion of church social welfare activities before examining their critics’ arguments. The Proponents of Expansion: “In the Name of Subsidiarity” “No word has been used more frequently in the last two years than subsidiarity. Much is summarized therein that means change” (Petran 1991: 23)

A review of the arguments found in documents and papers published by confessional welfare agencies following the collapse of state socialism and German unification exhibits a rise in the use of the term subsidiarity, which was not used in the GDR. The concept provided proponents of reinstitutionalization and expansion with a catalogue of arguments: the priority of free welfare associations over the state; the necessity to guarantee a plurality of service providers—that is, the right of all social service recipients, including Christians, to select an appropriate welfare association; and the need to promote self-help (“Hilfe zur Selbsthilfe”) and volunteer work (DCV 1990b: 65; Winkler 1990: 29).25 Proponents of expansion, such as Hellmut Puschmann, the president of Caritas, and Peter Weiß, an executive at the Caritas head office in Freiburg, argued that the principle of subsidiarity would allow the formerly centralized GDR to catch up to a free and vibrant civil society and that the free associations were the most appropriate organizations to carry out this task (Puschmann 1990b: 44).26 They claimed that the principle of subsidiarity was a “bewährte Alternative,” an alternative which had proven its worth. Rooted in Catholic social teachings, subsidiarity, it was stressed, shaped the FRG and even expanded at the European level as a structuring principle (Puschmann 1990b: 44; Spieker 1992). Looking back, a social observer commented that subsidiarity operated as an “ideologische Klammer,” as the ideology of the free welfare associations (1997: 92).

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THE CREATION OF A CRISIS SITUATION More than in previously examined cases, the imminent-danger thesis—i.e., stressing the potential dangers of inaction—proved a powerful deterrent for criticism of the expansion of social welfare. Proponents of expansion urged quick reform in order not to miss out on the wide range of opportunities now offered by the diverse relief programs receiving federal government subsidies (Soforthilfeprogramm and “Aufschwung Ost”) as well as support from the Federal Ministry for Family and Seniors, the federal states, municipalities, and various foundations (see Ziegelasch 1992: 246; Zimmer and Priller 1996: 217-221). Advocates of expansion argued that quick action should be taken as former state social organizations and state funding were now being allocated to new service providers. In this vein, Hartmut Storrer, an employee of Caritas in Mecklenburg, cynically recalled the argument invoked: “Federal Funds for emergency aid programs are flowing now, but will not later. Whoever wants to set up outpatient clinics, family-planning centers … must do it now while the sacred cash is available” (in Neumann 1992: 125). In this situation, the pressure exerted by the other free welfare associations was stressed. Hilaritas Krause, a Caritas employee in Freiburg, remarks on the “ferocious competition” among free welfare associations for their share of the pie in the allocation of social organizations (1993: 119). As in the cases of the pastoral care of soldiers and conscripts and religious instruction, proponents of reform invoked the need to maintain the parity with the other church and welfare organizations. Consolidation and expansion, it was argued, were not only motivated by the associations’ wish to get its “share of the pie,” they were also commanded by the necessity to react to the new social problems yielded by the thorough transformation of society (Petran 1991: 20). Reinhard Turre, an employee of Diakonie in the Church Province of Saxony, even asserted that the very success of unification depended on the capacity to deal with these problems (1990: 55). Under the motto “preserve the old, shape the new” (“Altes bewahren, Neues gestalten”) and much in line with the synergy thesis, the confessional welfare associations were called upon to carry on its activities with the old and the handicapped and to provide counseling for the unemployed, drug addicts, foreigners, and asylum seekers (Neukamm 1991; Hostombe 1992: 107). In sum, an array of people (Puschmann in Angerhausen et al. 1998: 95; Feiereis 1992: 19; Turre 1996: 74) advocated that the church welfare agencies should be at the vanguard of social problems and become the “advocates of the weak.” In this view, unification constituted a big challenge for the churches and their welfare agencies (Lehmann 1992; Petran 1991: 19; Puschmann 1996). Echoing this view, Bishop Wanke asserted during an interview in 1990 that there was, in the future, a lot to do in counseling people in need and taking care of the old. With concern to the inpatient sectors, he said: “It is conceivable that the church’s contribution toward the basic medical needs of the population may be reduced in the future through the establishment of a high performing health service. However, for many years we will still be needed” (in Broch 1990: 81-82). As in the GDR, reforms were postponed to the future.27

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Having consolidated and expanded their structures under the aegis of subsidiarity, the representatives of the church welfare associations sought to legitimate their noticeable presence in view of the low church membership.28 It was extensively argued that, through social welfare services, the churches could reach a lot of people. In the secularized context, the social services provisions should have priority since they represent a credible form of church involvement (Reinelt 1992: 119; also Thränhardt 1995: 470). It was contended that the church social welfare provision coincides with a modern definition of religiosity and church membership, especially for the people with loose church affiliation (EKD 1993; 1989: 173). This view was widely reflected. Eberhard Winkler (1990) stresses that the work of Caritas and Diakonie was already well received by the population in the GDR, and the demand for services could not be met (Petran 1991: 19; Winkler 1990). In addition, Albrecht Stengel, former director of Diakonie in Thuringia, emphasized that people who were not affiliated with a church sought work within church welfare organizations.29 As in the case of religious instruction, protagonists of expansion argue that the number of people affiliated with a church is not very important. Drawing on a speech from Aufderbeck, a former bishop of Erfurt-Meinigen, Peter Hostombe, a former Caritas director, recalls, “people mustn’t all become Catholic, but they all need to be loved” (1992: 109; see also interview Ehrliche in Angerhausen et al. 1998: 91).30 In short, it is argued that social welfare should be a priority as it is the duty of the church for society and represents a chance for mission. As in the GDR, attempts are still being made to institutionalize Diakonie and Caritas as a guiding metaphor of the church.31 The strategies of the proponents of expansion show affinities with those advanced by the reformers on the issue of the pastoral care of soldiers and religious instruction. More than in any other cases, however, they tend to stress the imminent-danger thesis. They create a situation of crisis that makes reform seem inevitable (see Hostombe 1992: 107; see also Meyer 1992: 172; Neumann 1992).32 In other words, they create “l’illusion de la nécessité” to legitimate their actions (Aron 1955: 172 ff.). In addition, the promoters of the reinstitutionalization have largely relied on ideological arguments, such as the principle of subsidiarity. Such an attitude is reminiscent of the opposition to LER (see Chapter V). It could be remarked that the optimism that generally characterized the reformers in the case of the pastoral care of soldiers and, most patently, the religious instruction “becomes the alibi of resignation” in view of the representatives of the church welfare agencies and their endeavors to reinstitutionalize the principle of subsidiarity. For those who had worked in the former GDR, the expansion and its leitmotif, subsidiarity, involves a sort of conversion. As Stengel comments: “we had to learn what subsidiarity and the free welfare meant.”33 The converted typically model themselves on others and take what might appear to be a dogmatic view. Through this process, the converted can interpret principles in different ways and therefore be the source of change (Angerhausen et al. 1998). Indeed, guiding

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metaphors can be interpreted in many ways: they may remain stable but their interpretation—and their contents—may differ. In this respect, Lepsius has introduced the concept of “schleichender Wandel,” that is, subtle and gradual change (1997: 66). In their study on the transformation of East German welfare associations, Angerhausen et al. show that, in contrast to other spheres of activity, there is continuity in workers and organizations in the area of social welfare (1998: 87; also Seibel 1997). They contend that the East Germans working in this area have caught up to the new system, though not always with its principles—a thesis reflected in the title of their 1998 book, Überholen ohne einzuholen (“Overtaking without Catching up”).34 This adaptation is reflected in the incremental evolution of transferred institutions.35 Through a series of interviews, Angerhausen et al. demonstrate that East Germans consider the free welfare associations as “junior partners to the state” (Angerhausen et al. 1998: 113; Angerhausen, Pabst, and Schiebel 1997). By the same token, the principle of subsidiarity underwent change as the result of new interpretations. An extract of a letter from the “Consortium of free welfare in Thuringia” to the Erfurt Landtag exemplifies this point when it states: “An essential characteristic of the work of the free welfare associations is that they work in accordance with the principle of subsidiarity, which means that they are there to help, support, and assist [the state]” (Hack and Frankenhäuser 1993: 3). The passage stresses the complementary character of the free welfare associations, but does not explicitly mention their priority over the state, which was usually seen as the main characteristic of the principle of subsidiarity. At the Periphery: The Advocates of the East German Conceptions As with the discussion on religious instruction, Catholic advocates of the East German model invoked the jeopardy thesis to criticize expansion in the field of social welfare provision. They pointed out that their social activities, in comparison with the West, were more integrated with parish life and more religiously oriented, both seen to result from the “positive experience of the GDR” and central to the principle of the “church in the diaspora” (Feiereis 1992; Steinke 1992).36 They felt that these principles were threatened by the professionalization and secularization inherent in expansion.37 Protestants also criticized expansion and rekindled the old discussion about church responsibility and the religious identity of its social welfare organizations. Given the resources available, they believed that expansion was futile, if not impossible. Indeed, it was contended that there were neither the workers nor the means to fulfill the church’s mission. Echoing this point, Heino Falcke lamented that “The church would have—and partly has—taken over the direction of homes that it cannot fill with the spirit of the Christian Diakonie” (1997: 113). Aiming his criticism directly at Diakonie, Bishop Demke opposed church organizational expansion and claimed it was guided by opportunism and self-serving interests (1997: 126).38 In addition to futility arguments, detractors evoked the perverse and negative effects of cooperation with the state and dependence. Falcke has stated that the

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church was not in a position to adequately tackle upcoming problems, contrary to expansionist arguments, and that the state, as the principal sponsor of programs, could still set the agenda (1997: 114). To put it in a more scholarly manner, the argument of economic dependency is put forward (see Johnson and Chalfant 1993)—a point that has routinely been discussed in the context of the German social welfare system (Heinze 1997). Countering arguments against the alleged proxy role of the churches and their welfare agencies, Demke comments: “the churches still believe in the biblical expression that they are the ‘voice of the voiceless’. That’s not true, it’s not what they are. The churches are far too bureaucratized and require too much time to react.”39 In making his case, the bishop points to the wooden arguments and the fallacious nature of official church rhetoric, a point he had previously expressed following the radicalization of the discussion on religious instruction and the enactment of the LER (Chapter V). Critics recommended a reduction of activities in the sectors receiving the most state financing and suggested a focus centered on new problems and strengthening the status of the parish. They felt that they should maintain the East German principles, with Diakonie and Caritas taking on a more religious and less bureaucratized role that would allow more financial independence and, consequently, a more critical stance. Paul Zöller and Heinrich Pompey, two Catholics from the West, also pleaded for reforms already advocated in the GDR: smaller, more religious church welfare agencies that would be freed from the shackles of the state; relinquish areas where the state is already active; and promote self-help (in Junge 1992: 51; Pompey 1992). The most radical critics within the Protestant Church saw those demands and the claims advanced by reformers—in line with the synergy argument that the new system would bring parish and welfare associations closer together—as mere illusions and doomed to failure. They generally favored the creation of a “political Diakonie,” which would mean leaving the confining atmosphere of the parish behind and embracing something similar to the “positive experience of the ‘Wende’” with the participation of Christians and nonbelievers under the umbrella of the church. Political Diakonie Maintaining East German conceptions (the “positive experience of the GDR and the ‘Wende’”), it was felt, would allow Diakonie to be more critical and indeed more visionary. As such, commentators evoked the “guardian office” as the critical mandate of the church. They claimed that the church should not shirk its role in the conflict by stabilizing the prevailing institutional order—as Diakonie had conspicuously done during the GDR (Falcke 1997). For example, the point was often made that the churches, together with their welfare agencies, should present a critique of the market economy and capitalism (interview with pastor in Beckley, Chalfant et al. 1994: 175; Neubert 1991: 70; see also Jesse 2000).40 Falcke argues that the three options of the “Conciliar process”—the commitment to the world’s poor, pacifism in all conflict, and environmental protection—should be endorsed as guiding principles (Falcke 1997). He sees the

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positive experience of these types of open activity as transcending “parochial tribalism” (Duchrow 1999), as in the example of “Brot für die Welt” (“Bread for the World”), an international charity run by the Protestant welfare association. Claiming to apply the principles of the “Conciliar process,” a group of East German Christians has critically attacked the “Discussion paper on the economic and social situation in Germany” (EKD and DBK 1997 [1994]),41 a document published by the Protestant and Catholic churches addressing, among others, problems related to globalization. In their declaration, they regretted that the churches had neglected their commitment to the poor and disregarded their biblically rooted role: “In our view, the discussion paper on the economic and social situation lacks visionary strength because its authors have omitted biblical and theological references. Yet the reference to biblical tenets opens up perspectives— even if they are uncomfortable for us—which bring the churches into the public debate as they question dominant trends in church and society and encourage their correction” (Gruppe von Christinnen und Christen in den ostdeutschen Bundesländern 1995). The churches, the group argued, were giving tacit approval to the prevailing order and the free market, and at most, all they suggested was reform from within. They presented no genuine critique toward what might be referred to as the “world-wide status quo” that followed the fall of communism and did not constitute a critical force in society.42 The type of critical stance advocated by exponents of East German principles has also been advanced by critics within socialist and social democratic parties as well as by advocates of a “third way” (see Mouffe 2000). From their point of view, the traditional “left” no longer supports any radical project. Giddens (1996 [1994]) even argues that it is the conservatives, by embracing competitive capitalism, who are now the guardians of the contemporary radical project. A confusion, existing since the collapse of communism, as to who are the current promoters of radicalism has made it difficult to label positions. For this reason, an examination of different players’ attitudes toward change in their specific contexts has been undertaken here. As such, proponents of the East German model may be seen as conservative with respect to the East German status quo but revolutionary in the context of German Protestantism or Catholicism. This change of perspective is reflected in their rhetoric. When defending their position (the persistence of guiding metaphors originating in the GDR), their patterns of argumentation have been, as defined by Hirschman, reactionary. On the other hand, their rhetoric when discussing practices that are not institutionalized in West Germany could be seen as progressive. The actors’ strategies and rhetoric relate to their ideas and interests within a legitimate institutional order or, to paraphrase Bourdieu (1981), within a field with its monopolies and distribution of power. In this sense, their rhetoric corresponds neither to the ideas of traditional socialists nor to those of traditional conservatives, but to their position in the institutional order or field, a position informed with their experience and a conception of their role in the new context. Radical political change presented the self-proclaimed progressives with a difficult situation. Not only their ideas but also their patterns of argumentation

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were severely tested. In advice to the left after the fall of Soviet communism, Giddens suggested that they transcend the right-left dichotomy and address what he calls “life politics”: the re-moralization of specific issues in the context of global interdependence (Giddens 1991: 215). Similarly, Hirschman comments: “Since the Communist collapse, these types of arguments [synergy, imminent-danger, futility] are no longer as appealing or persuasive as they once were; there is less need therefore to caution reformers against using or overusing them. Suddenly it has become far more expedient than heretofore to argue for reforms on purely moral grounds” (1995: 68). Yet, the resorting to moral and life politics is characteristic of those described here as “conservative revolutionaries.” Drawing on the “Conciliar process” and the “Ethics of Jesus,” they put forward a social critique. They rejected the contention according to which the advent of a new democratic institutional order has borne out these ideas and has conferred a new meaning upon the guardian office. They maintained that there is a connection between the ideals of the Enlightenment and the Christian message, but also tensions that are at the core of their critique.

Continuity, Isomorphism, and Adaptation The study of the transformation of the churches in East Germany after radical political change would not have been completed without examining aspects of continuity. The case of social welfare provisions points to an institutional aspect that remained, in the words of Lepsius, “indifferent to power” (1985: 30). The system that came into being at Weimar persisted in the FRG and, to some extent, in the GDR as well. This in turn amounted to a specific characteristic of the GDR among the Soviet bloc countries. It was argued that the party-state was more lenient toward the church social services than toward religious education, which involved the inculcation of values. In fact, social welfare policy dwelled on the periphery of the institutional project promoted by the party-state. As a result, both the Catholic and the Protestant churches in the Democratic Republic could carry on with much of their activities and maintain contacts with their sister organizations in the West. The postunification period was marked by both churches’ organizational consolidation and expansion in the field of welfare provisions and a reinstitutionalization of the free welfare associations. Compared to other associations—above all the Protestant churches—the reintegration into the western structures did not prove problematic. The chapter has also shown that social welfare did not only linger on the periphery of the socialist project, it remained on the margin of the Protestant project as well. Indeed, there is an inbuilt tension within the church over the organization’s prime duty: the religious services or the social welfare services and, in turn, its addressees. Dissent going as far as the foundation of the Inner Mission, the precursor of Diakonie, persisted in spite of the organizational rapprochement in the GDR.43 It is important to note that the Protestant churches

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and their welfare agency were nonetheless run and operated by different people.44 In contrast, Catholic caritative work was recognized as a duty of the church and was more integrated in the church structures. At this level, contact with state and society was undertaken. Precisely for this reason, church welfare activities were also seen as a form of accommodation. The ideological component not being so crucial as in, say, religious instruction, the resorting to the futility of reform in view of modern secularity did not hold much in the 1990s—the percentage of people affiliated with a church did not prove as relevant as in the case of religious instruction. Thus, advocates of the proxy role of the church in society, as the proponents of the reinstitutionalization, could make a stronger case and were therefore more expedient than in other areas of activity. As Turre said, “the problems associated with secularization rested more in the secularization within the church welfare agencies than in society at large” (1985: 402). Finally, the early reinstitutionalization of the free welfare associations, encouraged by the substantial financial support of western associations and the parting of Diakonie and Caritas from the church, expelled any debate. Two large commissions were mandated to assess the associations’ identity in contemporary society and to reflect on the tension between the religious character of the two associations and the professional quality of their services. Although talks of reform were ubiquitous within welfare agencies, reform was never carried out. Instead, it was repeatedly “externalized” to the future. In the course of the “politics of institutionalization” that followed the reestablishment of the churches’ unity, the proponents of the East German metaphors were repeatedly discredited on this account. Their opponents advocated that the selfrighteous tone of the defenders of the East German status quo was unjustified and that they were not the minority church they pretended to be. They, it was argued, had also cooperated with the state—with an illegitimate state. In fact, the eastern churches were “people’s churches,” only with fewer members (Neubert 1993: 45; Pollack 2000: 26). Their opponents claimed that they would have refused neither the church tax nor religious instruction in the schools if they had been given a choice. In view of this, Bishop Axel Noack, the prominent opponent of the western-style military chaplaincy, did not counter the argument but contended that the restrictions imposed by the center had “made Protestants think clearer” (1997: 150). For his part, Werner Krusche, a Protestant bishop, turned the tables on the critics and maintained retrospectively that the churches had been seduced by western monies and the East German state and regretted that Protestants had not mustered up the strength to carry out a reform (Krusche 1991). More generally, it was argued that Protestants had lacked the courage necessary to undertake a thorough reform of church structures (Demke 2000; Falcke 1991). If the churches were no vectors of change in the field of social welfare provisions, institutional theorists argue that change is nonetheless noticeable. They make a case that change is “stable,” i.e., that incremental change occurs within a path (Lessenich 2000; Schelsky 1965 [1949]). I have already mentioned the

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gradual reinterpretation of the principle of subsidiarity. Moreover, the principle seems to experience difficulty finding acceptance among eastern policymakers. On grounds of Article 32 of the Unification Treaty, the consortiums of the free welfare associations in the new federal states were mandated to lobby the newly elected parliaments for the subsidiarity principle to be enshrined in the federal states’ constitutions. Barring the state of Saxony-Anhalt, the principle of subsidiarity (the priority of the free welfare associations over the state and the financial support) did not find echo in the constitutions of the new federal states. Henri Frankenhäuser, director of the consortium of the free welfare associations in Thuringia, lamented that most free welfare organizations still had problems in convincing politicians of their necessity and that involvement in policymaking was difficult.45 Dieter Stolte, a former employee at the Caritas office in Berlin, also confirmed this view.46 More generally, Lessenich (1999) has argued that small policy alterations in the 1980s and 1990s in (West) Germany have led to change. He notably claims that the introduction of the long-term Care Insurance (Pflegeversicherung) was a “path shifting” event. The bill subordinates the free welfare associations to economic principles. The latter are no longer globally subsidized by the state, and are now confronted to concurrence (Heymel 1995: 23). If, following Skocpol, one should “make social policies the starting points as well as the end points of analysis” (quoted in Pierson 1993: 627), one possible next step of the analysis might then be to examine these new policy developments and their effects on the free welfare associations.

Notes 1. The principle of subsidiarity was subject to different interpretations depending on the time and context. In his article on the principle, Sachße spells out the most common interpretations: “Debates on the relation between individual social responsibility and state regulation, public and free welfare, small social networks and large bureaucratic organizations, to mention only the most important ones” (1994: 717). In the European discussion the concept is generally used as a constitutional structure principle. 2. Similarly, Anheier and Seibel point out, in regard to church-related welfare organizations, that it is generally believed that nineteenth-century “charity organizations were the ‘armed daughter of the church’ for combatting atheism and socialism” (Anheier and Seibel 1990: 8). 3. In the 1980s, the Greens attempted to establish an organization, but failed. Their associations were integrated into the “Deutscher Paritätischer Wohlfahrtsverband.” 4. Because of the dominance of confessional welfare organizations, particularly in the case of inpatient welfare services and social youth welfare, the Social Welfare Act turned out to be contentious and, it was argued, anticonstitutional (Sachße 1994: 730). The Federal Tribunal of Justice settled the issue in 1967 in a decision that reinforced the partnership between the state and private welfare associations (Kuper 1990; Sachße 1995: 136). The principle of the selfdetermination of the churches was extended to confessional welfare agencies.

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5. Before unification, the free welfare associations delivered seventy percent of all family services, sixty percent of all the services to the elderly, forty percent of all hospital beds, and ninety percent of all employment for the handicapped in West Germany (Anheier and Priller 1991; Seibel 1997). 6. On 22 October 1947, Lieutenant-General Jermolajew summed up the position of the Soviet authorities on confessional organizations. He stated that “According to the Potsdam Resolutions and the policies of the occupation powers, all churches enjoyed complete freedom. And as the Evangelical church includes its youth, women’s and welfare activities as its most important function besides worship, there would be no difficulty. It is necessary, however, to distinguish between the work of the church and that of other organizations” (quoted in Nowak 1996: 13). 7. The agreement dealt with the remuneration of employees in confessional welfare institutions, the recognition of the church training of medical personnel, and the compensation for services (Pflegesätze) provided in stationary institutions such as hospitals as well as homes for the old and the handicapped. Note that all other costs and investments, such as for the purchase of equipment and the maintenance of buildings, had to be met by the churches (Schubert 1992; Zimmer and Priller 1996). A further agreement was signed in 1985 that ensured the pensions of church workers (Helwig and Urban 1987: 167). The agreement was the first one signed on the basis of the new Socialist Constitution (Article 39) and paved the way for the 1978 summit between church and state. 8. The Marxist critique of social welfare contended that “from this point of view, the function of private welfare consisted solely to prevent the proletariat from class struggle or, better still, to actively influence it in the sense of the bourgeoisie” (Hübner and Kaiser 1999: 39). 9. Through the so-called “Kirchengeschäft-A,” the western social welfare agencies exported goods (raw materials) to East Germany for which the party-state gave East German marks to the eastern churches. Alternatively, West Germans bought East German goods for the churches with West marks (Neukamm 1998). 10. As far as I know, there are no statistics available on church welfare workers and the emergence of an opposition movement. The most prominent social activists were definitely not involved with either Diakonie or Caritas. 11. Interestingly, former state workers in youth organizations (the so-called Pionierleiter) were offered jobs in homes for the handicapped after German unification. 12. The church social work and provisions were financed through street collections and, foremost, western aids: the churches, the welfare organizations, the German government, as well as diverse associations (Kroll 1998). Roland Steinke, Caritas director in Berlin, claims that up to fifty percent of their budget was financed through western monies (1992: 32). 13. The salaries of employees in health care facilities were already lower than the average salary in the GDR; see Reuer (1982: 227). 14. A rapprochement between the church and the welfare agencies had already taken place in 1945 with the creation of the “Evangelisches Hilfswerk.” The Hilfswerk belongs, unlike the Inner Mission, to the churches and the parishes. The Hilfswerk and the Inner Mission were merged in 1957 in “Inner Mission and Hilfswerk der EKD.” Since 1965, they are called “Diakonisches Werk” (see Wischnath 1998). 15. Little Diakonie officials were not known for joining the ranks of the “Confessing Church” (Kaiser 1999: 9). 16. A point also made by Stengel, former director of Diakonie in Thuringia, in an interview conducted by Barbara Thériault (25 May 2000). 17. The vanguard role reflects Webber’s so-called “ladder-theory,” according to which the free welfare associations should engage in new fields of activities that were neglected by the state. In other words, they should be the carriers of innovation (Kaiser 1995: 158).

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18. Analogously, the tension between the religious mandate and the professional character of the services offered by both welfare agencies in cooperation with the health and youth authorities was at the center of conflict within West German Protestantism and Catholicism. 19. Wagner stated: “Es ist eine späte Stunde für Johann Hinrich Wichern [the founder of the Inner Mission] und sein Programm, dessen Ziel nun heißen kann: Heimholung der Diakonie” (1974: 48). Several other contributors to the conference also stressed Inner Mission’s estrangement from the parish and the church as a whole (for instance Krusche 1974: 30). 20. After a few attempts these initiatives were approved by the newly appointed parliament (see Koltzenburg 1990). 21. Reforms have been sought to decentralize Diakonie and integrate it into parish structures. The districts (Kreise) are now Diakonie’s counterpart within the church. 22. The special status of welfare associations as service providers is established in Article 32 of the Unification Treaty: “The Free Welfare and Youth Associations, through their institutions and services make an indispensable contribution to the social state [Sozialstaatlichkeit] envisioned in the Constitution. The establishment and expansion of the Free Welfare Associations ... will be supported in the context of the constitutional responsibilities” (translated in Zimmer and Priller 1996). As the principle not mentioned in the first draft of the Unification treaty, the free welfare associations renewed their efforts (Weiß 1990; Schwarzer 1991). 23. This took place in accordance with an organization’s statutes (Satzung). Because East Germany had traditionally been Protestant, the latter got more. The Protestants noticeably expanded their activities in hospitals and homes for the elderly, sectors heavily financed by the state. 24. As in the case of the church tax, a lot of pressure was exerted from western organizations. It is important to remember that the latter were much bigger and richer than their eastern counterparts. 25. That said, Hannelore Ziegelasch conceded in 1992, “the patients still haven’t learnt to choose a social institution that suits them. A public campaign is required” (1992: 246). Indeed, people in the new federal states, if we are to believe the study carried out by Goldberg and Maulbach (1996: 121), do not clearly distinguish Caritas and Diakonie. 26. Looking back at the expansion since the Second World War, Funke comments that if there had not been an expansion, Diakonie would have become a “museum” (1989: 71). Social welfare today is not to be compared with that of the nineteenth century. It requires modern forms of organization. 27. Similarly, Hellmut Puschmann stated in this perspective: “It is a well-known fact that, due to a lack of investment, the GDR’s public health authorities will not be able to make any substantial expansions to state and local facilities. Consequently, the church will be forced, for the well-being of all, to carry out its work in this area” (1990a: 37). 28. Similarly, Grace Davie, a sociologist of religion, argues that the established churches in Europe are seen by their loose members as well as nonmembers as “public utilities,” that is, “a service maintained by the few for the many” (1999). This is confirmed in the membership study of the EKD (1993). 29. Interview with Albrecht Stengel, conducted by Barbara Thériault (25 May 2000). 30. He also evokes the “chance of the small number” and quotes the Gospel according to Saint Luke: “Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom (LK 12, 32)” (Hostombe 1992: 108-109). 31. At a conference on church-run kindergartens in the new federal states held at the Berlin Catholic Academy on 19 February 1998, a participant vividly expressed this view when he declared, “Let a church fall down rather than close a kindergarten!” 32. This strategy is described at greater length in Palier and Bonoli (1999: 416). See also Pierson (1993). 33. Interview conducted by Barbara Thériault (25 May 2000). 34. This is an aphorism originally stated by Walter Ulbricht, leader of the GDR, when comparing his country’s economic policy with that of the FRG.

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35. Their inquiry is summed up as follows: “There is a specific mixture of East German traditions and West German models in the new federal states which puts the East German welfare—freed of its institutional burden—in a position to overhaul the slowly changing West German welfare system at great speed. However, substantial achievements and features of the Free Welfare system fall by the wayside through this risky and overhauling maneuver” (Angerhausen et al. 1998: 13). 36. Krause comments on this point: “Because welfare associations were not permitted to operate during the time of the GDR, the structures of Caritas were by then closely linked to those of the church. This fact shaped the way that Caritas employees saw themselves” (1993: 121). 37. The associations had to keep, in accordance with §613a BGB, staff members employed in these institutions (Bretschneider 1996: 80), which proves particularly difficult with youth work, a domain where people are very secularized (interview with Dieter Stolte, Caritas central office in Berlin: 15 January 1998). 38. Reflecting on the identity of the confessional welfare associations and their political weight, Lehmbruch defines the “logic of influence” and the “logic of membership” and asserts that, in this situation, the former was privileged over the latter (1994a). 39. Interview conducted by Solange Wydmusch (2000). 40. In making their case, they expound arguments that echo the socialist working movement that portrayed the church welfare as “superficial balm for wounds” or “capitalism’s sick bed” (see Beckley, Chalfant and Johnson 1994: 175). 41. This groups included Elisabeth Adler, Uli Brandt, Walter Bindenmann, Peter Domke, HansJoachim Döring, Heino Falcke, Annette Flade, Tön Föste, Christian Führer, Horst Goldstein, Wolf-Dieter Graewe, Christa Haagen, Cordula Heilmann, Marianne Kramer, Ludwig Krause, Fred Mahlburg, Hans and Ruth Misselwitz, Sabine Nagel, Brigitte Schmeja, Roland Springborn, and Dietmar Wittich (Gruppe von Christinnen und Christen in den ostdeutschen Bundesländern 1995). 42. Such a critique was also formulated in view of the Military Chaplaincy Agreement. Advocates of the East German status quo stressed the need to speak freely on peace and war. 43. The organizational structures of the Protestant welfare agency and the churches were also brought closer together in the FRG. 44. Seibel (1997) has contended that, in spite of the fusion of institutions, a “third sector” could pervade in East Germany. For this reason, it was easier to extend the western institutions to the East (as opposed to schools and military bases, for instance). 45. Interview with Henri Frankenhäuser, Director of the “Liga der Freien Wohlahrtspflege in Thüringen,” conducted by Barbara Thériault (3 September 1998). 46. Interview with Dieter Stolte, Caritas’ central office in Berlin, conducted by Barbara Thériault (15 January 1998). As Seibel (1997: 133) points out, most social institutions are still in public hands. Moreover, the welfare associations are more like parapublic organizations and are not greatly involved in policy.

CONCLUSION

 I

Q

uoting Goethe’s “Elective Affinities” at the beginning of his essay on the implosion of the GDR, Hirschman writes: “The immediate past is but rarely the object of our interest. Either the present takes hold of us forcefully or we lose ourselves in the remote past and attempt … to re-create what has been wholly lost” (1993: 173). The conceptual framework developed at the outset of this book has been instrumental in countering the pitfalls often associated with the study of contemporary history and circumscribing the object of inquiry. Drawing on conceptual tools such as guiding metaphors, organizing principles, and property space, this study of the transformation of the Catholic and Protestant churches after radical political change concentrated on the churches’ guiding metaphors and their guardians. Having delineated the institutional order of the GDR, the genesis of the churches’ models, the actors’ responses to that institutional order, could be identified. The Protestant Church leadership coined the formula of the “Church in socialism,” a metaphor that simultaneously encompassed the principles of accommodation and opposition. The Catholic Church, as a “people’s church on hold,” stressed the principle of “political abstinence” and concentrated its activities in the parish. These metaphors were not static, as related principles were continuously subject to new interpretations as their guardians attempted to manipulate definitions to either change or maintain them. But once guiding metaphors were identified, it was possible to follow their evolution during the GDR and especially after the collapse of its institutional order. One could have certainly told a similar story from the viewpoint of the church doctrines or theological traditions. Apart from the fact that I can claim no theological credentials, the impact of institutional orders on the churches and their members would have been neglected.

Notes for this section can be found on page 142.

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The most challenging part of this study was to focus on the transformation of the churches’ guiding metaphors and principles following the demise of state socialism. In the midst of radical political change, actors could no longer refer to the guiding metaphors that had become delegitimized, such as the “Church in socialism.” The guiding metaphors underwent a redefinition in the new context. While some of them had lost their binding capacity, their organizing principles were still pervasive. Actors attempted to reinstitutionalize those principles they supported while deinstitutionalizing competing ones, a process referred to as the “politics of institutionalization,” which is the focus of the second part of this study on the principal debates that opposed religious actors following their reunification. The analysis of the debates brought these organizing principles to the fore, as was paradigmatically exhibited in the chapter on the issue of the pastoral care of soldiers and military conscripts. The voluntary nature of church activities, their autonomy and critical stance in society, as well as the value of the parish as the locus of religious life, were presented as important principles to be retained. These principles were formulated against the background of a negative guiding metaphor, the “people’s church,” which was criticized as an outdated model. In this respect, East German models were defined as what religious actors consider worth maintaining in the future, what they routinely called the “positive experiences of the GDR and the ‘Wende’” or, in the context of this study, the status quo. Proponents of the East German status quo claimed to promote the most modern definition of the church and its public role.

II The principles characteristic of the status quo were not materialized in all fields of activities, nor were they advocated by all East Germans. Their advocates and detractors were also found in both East and West Germany. For this reason, the proponents of the East German status quo and those of reform were distinguished. In the pan-German context, defenders of the East German status quo became challengers of the West German system. As such, they were labeled “conservative revolutionaries.” They were characterized by a conception of the church and specific patterns of rhetoric. The “conservative revolutionaries” alternately advocated for a “minority church” and a “church in the diaspora.” They called for a realistic stance and made great use of the futility and the jeopardy arguments for institutionalizing their position. Given secular modernity, they argued that it would be futile to engage in reform. A reform could only imperil the structures developed in the parish that were close to their hearts, and promote self-serving interests. They were generally skeptical of the western model of church-state relations, and pointed to the vicissitudes of the West German system. They refused to be a part of it if it entailed a threat to their independence and critical stance. Although advocates of the status quo were marginal on the German scale, they nonetheless presented, in drawing from the biblical message,

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a critical potential. Most “conservative revolutionaries” were Protestants, although there were undoubtedly Catholics among them. As a matter of fact, there were a lot of similarities between Protestants and Catholics, which showed that the latter were indeed not immune to the institutional order and its ideology, proving that the sanctions previously taken by the church hierarchy had not been completely effective. Whereas the “conservative revolutionaries” perceived the new order as a crisis situation, the advocates of reform contemplated the new order with enthusiasm, confidence, and faith. It appeared as if they were “inveterate optimists.” They urged quick reform in order not to miss out on the opportunities that German unification offered. The introduction of reforms, they felt, represented a chance to catch up to the present and reach people who had been cut off from their religious traditions by the policies of an authoritarian regime. For example, the members of the Catholic eastern Bishops’ Conference harbored a positive attitude toward reform while stressing continuity. In the line of the synergy thesis, they advocated reform by asserting that the old and the new would reinforce each other. However, in the field of social welfare—where continuity pervaded in both German states—what was once optimism gave way to resignation. It should be noted that the optimism characteristic of the reformers pertains to the rhetoric of reform and is not, therefore, intrinsic to Catholicism. This optimistic attitude is, to paraphrase Hirschman, shaped by the “imperatives of argument.” Throughout this study, two subtypes of reformers were distinguished: those who demonstrated a suspended belief in the institutional order of the FRG throughout the GDR and thereafter, and those who advocated a sort of conversion for catching up to western reforms. The former were mainly represented among Catholics, whereas the latter corresponded more, though not exclusively, to the liberal Protestants. In the course of the “politics of institutionalization,” reformers pointed to the contingent nature of the existing structures and attempted to delegitimize them by recalling their origins in the GDR, occasionally leveling personal attacks against defenders of the status quo. In this respect, reformers often called those labeled here as “conservative revolutionaries” either naive or self-righteous. They argued that the “conservative revolutionaries” advanced an antimodern critique that failed to distinguish between an authoritarian regime, such as the GDR, and a democratic and liberal one, such as the FRG. By way of example, reformers argued that the ethics of peace developed by Protestants in the GDR were no longer relevant in a democratic state. They criticized their opponents for downplaying the negative components of authoritarianism or totalitarianism as glorifying of the GDR and, conversely, ignoring the positive institutional order of the FRG.1 In this way, they were seen to take issue unjustifiably with the foundations of modernity and liberal principles. To sum up, it may be argued that the reformers, especially the liberal theologians, advocated a conception of religion and society grounded in a “modern” interpretation of social reality whereas the guardians of the status quo pro-

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pounded, in being antimodern, a “postmodern” interpretation. Thus, proponents of the status quo could also be described as “conservative revolutionaries” from the perspective of the reformers. To the defense of the latter, it should be added that the rhetoric of the reformers is contestable, as the liberal democratic order is per se the expression of prevailing hegemonic principles. Indeed, as Mouffe points out, “the specificity of modern democracy lies in the recognition and the legitimation of conflict and the refusal to suppress it through the imposition of an authoritarian order” (2000: 113). To be fair, it should also be noted that advocates of the East German status quo also seek to curb opposition. Graf points out that the political becomes a matter of morals and faith for them. As such, they leave no place for criticism. This attitude, he argues, is inherent to the symbiosis of theological and political discourse characteristic of theologians influenced by Barthian theology: “Barth himself and his numerous followers [as some of the advocates of the East German status quo] argue in a pious manner [im Gestus frommer Letztverbindlichkeit] and swear to the close, necessary connection between theological dogmatics and practical politics. They are bound to scrutinize the religious faith behind their critics’ political views” (1990: 735). The present account has assumed that arguing on moral grounds hinders a debate. Values, it was contended, are not debatable and lead to no real debate about possible alternatives.

III The “conservative revolutionaries” experienced a fate similar to that of the purveyors of the socialist project. Some of their guiding metaphors came to an end with the socialist state. As Chapter III stressed, German unification opposed two unequal partners. But, as guiding metaphors need acknowledgement to become binding and some principles are still contested in spite of sanctions that were taken to discipline critics, the defenders of the East German status quo were also successful in institutionalizing some principles. Adjustments were made to the military chaplaincy in the East and a new form of interconfessional instruction was established in the eastern state of Brandenburg. Despite the rhetoric of the reformers and policy changes, some eastern practices did continue. For instance, Catholics have maintained a certain organizational continuity east of the Elba (parish priests as military chaplains, catechetical instruction in the parish). The reformers’ victory was consequently described as a “Pyrrhic victory.” Incremental change is also manifest in the area of social welfare provision. At an organizational level, the three fields of church activities under scrutiny have been characterized by different outcomes. Where the East German principles were most institutionalized, i.e., legitimate, conflict was more intense and more likely to pervade. For instance, the ethics of peace, a domain sanctioned by the SED, led to the most contentious dispute between proponents of reform and those of the status quo. East German principles were also manifest in the field of educa-

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tion, the focus of both the churches’ and the GDR’s institutional projects, while not as pronounced in the field of social welfare services, a field of activity lingering on the institutional periphery of the GDR. In this way, this study notably pointed to the specificities of the institutional order of the GDR in explaining change and continuity in postunification Germany.

IV Even if concessions were made on both sides, most of the demands of the proponents of the East German status quo did not materialize in practice. Because the West German model was reiterated and transferred to the East, the defenders of the East German status quo became the underdog. Their position in the context of the “new” Germany committed them to radical rhetoric and strategies and conferred them with a critical force. They have so challenged the legitimacy of the dominant model of church and society. In the context of “actually existing capitalism,” those Christians who had voiced criticism regarding the socialist regime and had appeared to play an important role in the remarkable events of 1989 opposed western church practices, but also military intervention abroad and some economic policies, while favoring political practices developed in the GDR and during the “Wende.” This stance unwittingly makes them, it might be argued, the defenders of the ideas and practices borne by the former socialist party they once opposed so vehemently and helped to unsettle.

Note 1. The defenders of the East German status quo have drawn on the concept of totalitarianism. However, as Graf comments, “on a theological level, they neutralize the concept in a way that totalitarianism can become a quality of both the ruling system of the GDR and the society of the Federal Republic. The ‘open totalitarianism’ of the GDR corresponds to an ‘insidious totalitarianism’ in the FRG” (1990: 736).

APPENDIXES

 Appendix I: The Constitution of the Republic of Weimar (Extract) (Adopted on 11 August 1919) The General Welfare (Gemeinschaftsleben) Article 120

To provide their children with a thorough physical, spiritual, and social education is the Supreme duty and natural right of parents, whose activities shall be supervised by the state. Article 124

All Germans have the right to form associations or societies for purposes not contrary to criminal law. This right may not be curtailed by preventive measures. The same provisions apply to religious associations and societies. Every association may become incorporated (Erwerb der Rechtsfähigkeit) according to the provisions of the civil law. The right may not be refused to any association on the grounds that its aims are political, social-political or religious. Religion and Religious Associations Article 135

All inhabitants of the Reich enjoy full liberty of faith and of conscience. The undisturbed practice of religion is guaranteed by the Constitution and is under State protection. The general laws of the State shall remain unaffected hereby. Article 136

Civil and political rights and duties are neither dependent on nor restricted by the exercise of the freedom of religion. Notes for this section can be found on page 156.

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Enjoyment of civil and political rights and eligibility for public office are independent of religious denomination. No one is bound to disclose his religious convictions. The authorities have no right to inquire into a person’s membership of a religious body except to the extent that rights or duties depend thereon or that a statistical survey ordered by law makes it necessary. No one may be compelled to perform any religious act or ceremony or to participate in religious exercises or to use a religious form of oath. Article 137

There is no state church. Freedom of association to form religious bodies is guaranteed. The union of religious bodies within the territory of the Reich is not subject to any restrictions. Every religious body regulates and administers its affairs autonomously within the limits of the law valid for all. It confers its offices without the Participation of the state or the civil community. Religious bodies acquire legal capacity according to the general provisions of civil law. Religious bodies remain corporate bodies under public law insofar as they have been such heretofore. The other religious bodies are granted like rights upon application, where their constitution and the number of their members offers an assurance of their permanency. Where several such religious bodies under public law unite in one organization, such organization shall also be a corporate body under public law. Religious bodies that are corporate bodies under public law are entitled to levy taxes in accordance with State law on the basis of the civil taxation lists. Associations whose purpose is the common cultivation of a philosophical persuasion have the same status as religious bodies. Such further regulation as may be required for the implementation of these provisions is a matter for State legislation. Article 138

State contributions to religious bodies, based on law or contract or special legal title, are redeemed by means of State legislation. The principles for such redemption are established by the Reich. The right to own property and other rights of religious bodies or associations in respect of their institutions, foundations, and other assets destined for purposes of worship, education or charity are guaranteed. Article 139

Sunday and the public holidays recognized by the state remain legally protected as days of rest from work and of spiritual edification. Article 140

Members of the defense forces shall be allowed the necessary free time for performing their religious duties.

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Article 141

To the extent that there exists a need for religious services and spiritual care in the army, in hospitals, prisons, or other public institutions, the religious bodies are permitted to perform religious acts; in this context there is no compulsion of any kind.

SECTION 4 Education and Schools Article 142

Art and science, and the teaching thereof, are free. The State guarantees their protection and participates in furthering them. Article 143

Provision shall be made for the education of the young by means of public institutions. The Reich, the States and the local authorities shall cooperate in their organization. The training of teachers shall be regulated in a uniform manner for the whole Reich, on the general lines laid down for higher education. Teachers in public schools have the rights and duties of State officials. Article 144

The whole system of education is under the supervision of the State, which may assign a share in such work to the local authorities. School inspection is carried out by competent, trained and expert officials of high rank. Article 145

School attendance is compulsory for all. The fulfillment of this obligation is provided for by primary schools, with at least an eight years’ course, followed by continuation schools with a course extending to the completion of the eighteenth year of age. Instruction and all accessories are free of charge in the primary and continuation schools. Article 146

The public system of education shall be organically developed. Upon the basis of primary schools common to all shall be built up a system of secondary and higher education. The governing consideration in the building up of this system shall be the diversity of vocations and, as regards the admission of a child into any particular school, its capacity and inclination, not the economic and social standing of its parents. Upon the request of persons responsible for the education of children, however, primary schools in accordance with their religious creed or philosophic views may be established in a locality, so far as is possible without interference with the orderly development of the school system, especially as regards the general principles of the first paragraph of this

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Article. The wishes of persons responsible for the education of children shall be taken into account as far as possible. Further details shall be determined by legislation by the States in accordance with principles laid down by a law of the Reich. Public provision shall be made by the Reich, the States and the local authorities, for the admission of persons of small means to secondary and higher educational institutions; in particular, educational assistance grants shall be provided for the parents of children considered suitable for education in secondary and higher schools until the completion of their education. Article 147

Private schools, as a substitute for public schools, require the approval of the State, and are subject to the laws of the States. Approval may be granted when the private schools are not inferior to the public schools in their educational aims and organization, nor in the professional qualifications of their teaching staff; further, there must be no segregation of pupils based upon the means of their parents. Approval shall be refused when the economic and legal position of the teaching staff is not sufficiently assured. Private primary schools are permissible only when there is in a locality no public primary school corresponding to the religious creed or philosophic views of a minority of persons responsible for the education of children whose desires must be taken into consideration in accordance with Article 146, Paragraph 2, or when the educational administrative authorities recognize that special educational interest is involved. Primary preparatory schools are to be abolished. Private schools not serving as substitutes for public schools retain their existing legal rights. Article 148

All schools shall aim at inculcating moral character, a civic conscience, personal and vocational efficiency, imbued with the spirit of German nationality and international goodwill. In giving instruction in public schools, care must be taken not to give offense to the susceptibilities of those holding different opinions. The duties of citizenship and technical education are subjects of instruction in the schools. Upon the completion of the period of school attendance, every pupil receives a copy of the Constitution. The Reich, the States and the local authorities shall promote the organization of popular culture, including popular high schools. Article 149

Religious instruction is a regular subject in schools, with the exception of undenominational (secular) schools. The giving of such instruction shall be regulated in accordance with legislation upon schools. Religious instruction shall be given in accord with the principles of the religious body concerned, without prejudice to the right of State supervision.

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The giving of religious instruction and the undertaking of spiritual duties are subject to the declared assent of the teacher; participation in religious instruction and in religious rites and ceremonies is subject to the declared assent of the person responsible for the religious education of the child. The theological Faculties in the Universities shall continue to be maintained.

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Appendix II The Constitution of the German Democratic Republic (Extract) (Adopted on 7 October 1949)1 Article 6

All citizens have equal rights before the law. Incitement to boycott of democratic institutions or organizations, incitement to attempts on the life of democratic politicians, the manifestation of religious and racial hatred and of hatred against other peoples, militaristic propaganda and warmongering as well as any other discriminatory acts are felonious crimes within the meaning of the Penal Code. The exercise of democratic rights within the meaning of the Constitution is not an incitement to boycott. Whoever has been convicted of such a crime is disqualified from holding public office or a leading position in economic or cultural life. He also loses the right to vote and to stand for election. Family and Motherhood Article 31

Parents have the natural right to bring up their children in a democratic spirit which will enable them mentally and physically to become responsible individuals, and this is their supreme duty toward society. Article 40

Religious instruction is a concern of the religious associations. The exercise of this right is guaranteed. Religion and Religious Associations Article 41

Every citizen enjoys complete freedom of faith and conscience. The practice of religion without interference enjoys the protection of the Republic. Any abuse of establishments created by religious associations, of religious acts or religious instruction for purposes which are contrary to the principles of the Constitution or for purposes of paty politic; is prohibited. However, the right of religious associations to express an attitude in keeping with their own viewpoints toward issues vital for the people shall be uncontested. Article 42

Civil or civic rights and duties are neither conditioned nor restricted by the practice of religion. Exercise of civil or civic rights or the admission to public service is independent of a religious creed. No one is required to disclose his religious belief. Administrative agencies have the right to make inquiries about a person’s membership in a religious association only insofar as rights and duties are connected therewith, or a statistical survey directed by law requires it.

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No one may be forced to attend religious rites or celebrations, or to participate in religious exercises, or to use a religious form of oath. Article 43

There is no state church. Freedom of membership in religious associations is guaranteed. Every religious association regulates and administers its affairs autonomously and in accordance with the laws applicable to all. Religious associations remain public law corporations insofar as they were such heretofore. Other religious associations are granted like [sic] rights upon their application, if through their organization and the number of their members they offer a guarantee of permanency. If several such public law religious associations join in a union, this union is also a corporation of public law. Religious associations having public law status are entitled to levy taxes upon their members on the basis of the governmental tax list according to (the standards of ) the general provisions. Associations whose function is the common cultivation of a philosophy of life have the same status as religious associations. Article 44

The right of the church to give religious instruction on school premises is guaranteed. Religious instruction is given by personnel selected by the church. No one may be forced to give, or be prevented from giving, religious instruction. Those entitled to bring up a child shall determine whether the latter shall receive religious instruction. Article 45

Public contributions to religious associations, which rest upon law, contract, or special legal title, shall be abrogated by legislation. Ownership and other rights of the religious associations and religious unions, in respect to their institutions, foundations and other property devoted to purposes of worship, education and charity, are guaranteed. Article 46

Insofar as there exists a need for religious service and spiritual guidance in hospitals, penal institutions, or other public institutions, the religious associations are to be given an opportunity for religious exercises. No person may be forced to participate. Article 47

Any person wishing to resign from a public-law religious association and to have such resignation become legally effective, shall declare his intention before a court, or submit it in form of a publicly attested individual declaration. Article 48

Decision as to whether children up to fourteen years of age shall belong to a religious association rest with the persons entitled to bring them up.

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Older children shall decide themselves whether or not they wish to be members of an association or organization professing a religious creed or a philosophy of life.

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Appendix III: The Second Constitution of the German Democratic Republic (Extract) (Adopted on 6 April 1968 and amended on 7 October 1974)2 Article 1

The German Democratic Republic is a socialist state of workers and peasants. It is the political organization of the urban and rural working population under the leadership of the working class and its Marxist-Leninist party. Article 6

Faithful to the interests of the people and to its international obligations, the German Democratic Republic has eliminated militarism and National Socialism in its territory. It is pursuing a foreign policy which promotes socialism, peace, understanding among peoples, and security. The German Democratic Republic has entered into a perpetual and irrevocable alliance with the Union of Soviet Socialist Republic. This close and fraternal alliance guarantees to the people of the German Democratic Republic further progress on the road to socialism and peace. The German Democratic Republic is an inseparable part of the socialist community of states. Faithful to the principles of socialist internationalism, it contributes to its strengthening, maintains and develops friendships, universal cooperation, and mutual assistance to all states of the socialist community. The German Democratic Republic supports the states and the peoples who are struggling against imperialism and colonialism and for freedom and independence in their efforts to achieve social progress. The German Democratic Republic is committed to the realization of the principles of the peaceful coexistence of states of differing social structures and, on the basis of equality and mutual respect, actively cooperates with all states. Basic Rights and Basic Duties of Citizens Article 37

Marriage, family and motherhood are under the special protection of the state. Every citizen of the German Democratic Republic has the right to respect for, protection and promotion of his marriage and family. This right is guaranteed by the equality of man and wife in married life and family, by social and state assistance to citizens in promoting and encouraging their marriage and family. Large families, mothers and fathers living alone receive the care and support of the socialist state through special measures. Mother and child enjoy the special protection of the socialist state. Maternity leaves, special medical care, material and financial support during childbirth and children’s allowances are granted. It is the right and the supreme task of parents to educate their children to become healthy, happy, competent, universally educated and patriotic citizens.

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Parents have a right to a close and trustful cooperation with the social and state educational institutions. Article 39

Every citizen of the German Democratic Republic has the right to profess a creed and carry out religious activities. The churches and other religious communities are to arrange and carry on their affairs and their activities in conformity with the Constitution and the legal regulations of the German Democratic Republic. Article 47

The structure and activities of the state organs are determined by the aims and tasks of state power as set forth in this constitution. The sovereignty of the working people, which is realized on the basis of democratic centralism, is the fundamental principle of state structure.

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Appendix IV: The Basic Law of the Federal Republic of Germany (Extract) (Adopted on 23 May 1949 and amended on 31 August 1990 and 23 September 1990) Preamble Conscious of its responsibility before God and before man, inspired by the resolve to preserve its national and political unity and serve world peace as an equal partner in a united Europe, the German people, in the Länder Baden, Bavaria, Berlin, Brandenburg, Bremen, Hamburg, Hesse, Lower Saxony, Mecklenburg-Western-Pomerania, North-Rhine-Westphalia, Rhineland-Palatinate, Saxony, Saxony-Anhalt, Schleswig-Holstein, Thuringia, Wuerttemberg-Baden and Wuerttemberg-Hohenzollern, by virtue of its constituent power, enacted this Basic Law of the Federal Republic of Germany to give a new order to political life for a transitional period. It has also acted on behalf of those Germans to whom participation is denied. The entire German people is called upon to achieve, by free selfdetermination, the unity and freedom of Germany.3 BASIC RIGHTS4 Article 1

The dignity of man is inviolable. To respect and protect it is the duty of all state authority. The German people therefore acknowledges inviolable and inalienable human rights as the basis of every human community, of peace and of justice in the world. The following basic rights are binding on the legislature, on the executive and on the judiciary as directly valid law. Article 2

Everyone has the right to the free development of his personality. Insofar as he does not infringe upon the rights of others or offend against the constitutional order or the moral code. Everyone has the right to life and to physical inviolability. The freedom of the individual is inviolable. These rights may be interfered with only on the basis of a law. Article 3

All persons are equal before the law. Men and women have equal rights. No one may be prejudiced or privileged because of his sex, his descent, race, his language, his homeland and origin, his faith or his religious and political opinions.

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Article 4

Freedom of faith and conscience and freedom of creed in religion and in philosophy of life (weltanschaulich) are inviolable. The practice of religion without interference is guaranteed. No one may be compelled against his conscience to perform military service as an armed combatant. Details are regulated by a federal law. Article 5

Everyone has the right freely to express and to disseminate his opinion through speech, writing and pictures and, without hindrance, to instruct himself on generally accessible sources. Freedom of the press and freedom of radio motion-pictures reporting are guaranteed. There is no censorship. These rights are limited by the provisions of the general laws, the legal regulations for the protection of juveniles and by the right to personal honor. Art and science, research and teaching are free. Freedom of teaching does not absolve from loyalty to the Constitution. Article 6

Marriage and family are under the special protection of the state. The care and upbringing of children are the natural right of parents and their duty, incumbent upon them primarily. The state watches over their performance (of this duty). Children may be separated from the family against the will of those entitled to bring them up only on the basis of a law, if those so entitled fail to perform their duty, or if, on other grounds, the children are in danger of falling into neglect. Every mother has a claim to the protection and assistance of the community. For their physical and mental development and for their position in society, illegitimate children shall, by legislation, be given the same opportunities as legitimate children. Article 7

The entire educational system is under the supervision of the state. Those entitled to bring up a child have the right to decide whether it shall receive religious instruction. Religious instruction shall form part of the curriculum in state and municipal schools, with the exception of non-denominational schools. Religious instruction shall, without prejudice to the state’s right of supervision, be given according to the principles of the religious denominations. No teacher may against his will be placed under an obligation to give religious instruction. The right to establish private schools is guaranteed. Private schools as a substitute for state or municipal schools require the approval of the state and are subject to Land legislation. The approval must be given if the private schools, in their educational aims and facilities, as well as in the professional training of their teaching personnel, are not inferior to the state or municipal schools and if a segregation of the pupils in accordance with the (financial)

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means of the parents is not fostered. The approval must be withheld if the economic and legal status of the teaching personnel is not adequately ensured. A private elementary school is to be permitted only if the educational authority recognizes a specific pedagogic interest or if, at the request of those entitled to bring up children, it is to be established as an interdenominational school (Gemeinschaftsschule), as a denominational or an ideological school, and if a state or municipal elementary school of this type does not exist in the local community (Gemeinde). Preparatory schools (Vorschulen) remain abolished. Article 8

All Germans have the right, without prior notification or permission, to assemble peacefully and unarmed. In the case of open-air meetings this right may be restricted by legislation or on the basis of a law. Article 9

All Germans have the right to form associations and societies. Associations, the objects or activities of which conflict with the criminal laws or which are directed against the constitutional order or the concept of international understanding, are prohibited. The right to form associations to safeguard and improve working and economic conditions is guaranteed to everyone and to all trades and professions. Agreements which restrict or seek to hinder this right are null and void; measures directed to this end are illegal. Article 10

Secrecy of the mail as well as secrecy of the postal services and of telecommunications is inviolable. Restrictions may be ordered only on the basis of a law. The Federation and the Länder Article 20

The Federal Republic of Germany is a democratic and social Federal state. All state authority emanates from the people. It is exercised by the people by means of elections and voting and by separate legislative, executive and judicial organs. Legislation is subject to the constitutional order; the executive and the judiciary are bound by the law. All Germans shall have the right to resist any person seeking to abolish this constitutional order, should no other remedy be possible (*added on 24 June 1968). Article 140

The provisions of Articles 136, 137, 138, 139 and 141 of the German Constitution of 11 August 1919 are integral parts of this Constitution.

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Article 141 (“Bremen Clause”)

Article 7(3) 1 does apply in any State in which different provisions of State law were in force on 1 January 1949.

Notes 1. From Jan F. Triska, “East Germany”, (1968: 216-239) in Constitutions of the Communist PartyStates.. This is a translation of the brochure “Die Verfassung der Deutschen Demokratischen Republik,” published by the VEB Deutscher Zentralverlag, Berlin and Dresden, 1962, and incorporating all changes up to the publication date. The translation was taken from the Soviet Zone Constitution and Electoral Law, published by the Office of the U.S. High Commissioner for Germany, Frankfurt/ Main, West Germany, 1951, except for the following passages which have been changed, added, or rescinded since the adoption of the original constitution. 2. From The Constitution of the Socialist State of the German Nations (1968). The church articles were not the subject of revision in the 1974 Constitution. 3. The last part of the preamble was modified to “The Germans in the Länder of Baden-Wuerttemberg, Bavaria, Berlin, Brandenburg, Bremen, Hamburg, Hesse, Lower Saxony, Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, North-Rhine-Westphalia, Rhineland-Palatinate, Saarland, Saxony, Saxony-Anhalt, Schleswig-Holstein, and Thuringia have achieved the unity and freedom of Germany in free self-determination. This Basic Law is thus valid for the entire German People.” 4. The Basic Law added to the Weimar Constitution the Articles 2 to 5 on individual liberties and Article 7 on religious instruction.

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INDEX

A Accommodation, 30, 31, 34, 36, 38, 39, 42n15, 45n45, 61, 66, 85n14, 101, 121, 133, 138 Aconfessionalism, 101 Adaptation, 11, 12, 41, 49, 114, 129, 132 Adjustment, 11, 12, 41, 49, 81, 105, 109, 112n59, 114, 141 Aktionskreis Halle (AKH), 27, 65, 112n49 Arbeiterwohlfahrt (AWO), 116, 117 Atheism, 21, 37, 97, 134n2 Aufderbeck, Hugo, 128

B Barth, Karl, 45n41, 51, 87n58, 112n50, 141 BBK (Berlin Bischofskonferenz or Berlin Bishops’ Conference), 28 Beck, Annegret, 19, 28, 44n39, 75, 96, 101-103 BEK or Bund (Bund der evangelischen Kirchen in der DDR or Federation of the Evangelical Churches in the GDR), 5n6, 20, 30, 31, 32, 34, 36, 38, 40, 41n1, 45nn48,54, 49, 50, 52, 53, 54, 56n3, 60, 63, 64, 68, 69, 71-74, 84n4, 85n16, 23, 86nn38,39, 92, 96, 97, 105, 106, 112n51, 118, 120, 121 Bengsch, Alfred, 22-26, 28, 37, 38, 43n26, 44nn32,34, 65 Berger, Peter, 20-22, 31, 42n15, 86, 97, 104, 105, 111n23, 112n50, 117 Berlin Declaration of Christians from the two German States, 52, 53, 87n54 Berlin Wall, 3, 16, 17, 27, 66, 75 Binder, Hans-Georg, 74, 76, 85n27, 88n64 Birthler, Marianne, 100, 101, 111n33

BOK (Berliner Ordinarienkonferenz or Berlin Ordinaries’ Conference), 25, 43n27 Bonhoeffer, Dietrich, 30, 44n42, 87n63 Bourdieu, Pierre, 11, 14n3, 50, 57n11, 70, 85n30, 131 Bräcklein, Ingo, 30 Braun, Johannes, 27, 91, 124 Bundestag, 85n23, 108 Bundeswehr, 60, 68, 69, 73, 76, 77, 80-82, 87n62, 88n65

C Caritas, 5n9, 25, 26, 28, 29, 38, 42n18, 44nn34,40, 91, 115-120, 122-128, 130, 133, 134, 135nn10,12, 136n25, 137n36 Charitas-Verband, 116 Catholic convention (Katholikentreffen), 26, 43n19 CDU (Christich Demokratische Union), 18, 27, 44n44, 46n60, 84n6, 85n14, 108, 111n40 CDU-East, 18, 27, 44n44, 121 Church Membership, 2, 5n5, 20, 35, 36, 57, 72, 92, 101, 102, 112, 119, 128 Public role, 3, 4, 9, 13, 55, 81, 83, 101, 114, 122, 139 Tax, 2, 27, 42n4, 52, 54, 55, 57n15, 88n70, 124, 133, 136n24 “Church for others,” 30, 32 “Church in Socialism,” 3, 10, 26, 29-31, 34-36, 38, 39, 44n43, 53, 56n5, 61, 64, 81, 85n15, 90, 93, 101, 115, 121, 122, 138, 139 “Church in the diaspora,” 22, 39, 51, 78, 105, 108, 129, 139 Civic instruction, 93, 94, 102, 106, 108, 109, 111n42, 112n52, 113n61

184 | Index

Commission for Church Work with Children and Youth, 92-95, 97-98 Conciliar Process on Justice, Peace, and the Integrity of Creation, 26, 38, 57n7, 63, 66, 72, 85n20, 98, 111n33, 130-132 Confessing Church, 43n28, 76, 87n50, 92, 135n15 Confirmation, 18, 24, 36, 43n30, 110n14 (see also Jugendweihe) “Conservative revolutionaries,” 5, 50, 51, 59, 71, 72, 76, 77, 82, 89, 95, 98, 105, 109, 114, 126, 132, 139-141 Consortium of Free Welfare, 16, 124, 129 Critical solidarity, 30, 52, 61

D Degen, Roland, 93, 98, 99, 107, 108 Demke, Christoph, 30, 41n1, 42n10, 45nn45,57, 57n6, 68, 69, 71, 73, 74, 78, 85n26, 88n67, 96, 99, 106, 129, 130, 133 Diakonie, 5nn9,10, 26, 32, 34, 36, 44n40, 115, 116, 118, 119, 121-125, 127-130, 132, 133, 135nn10,15, 136nn19,21,25,26 Evangelisches Hilfswerk, 116, 135n14 Inner Mission (Innere Mission), 38, 45n48, 115-117, 122, 123, 132, 135n14, 136n19 Political Diakonie, 34, 36, 130 Dioceses, 23, 24, 29, 43n25, 56n3, 91 Berlin, 23 Dresden-Meißen, 23 Erfurt-Meiningen, 96 Görlitz, 23, 30, 93 Magdeburg, 23, 27, 71, 98, 110n20, 111n26 Meißen, 65 Schwerin, 23 Döpfner, Julius, 22, 24, Döpfner Decree, 22, 44n36 Doyé, Götz, 93-95, 97, 98, 100 Dresden Pastoral Synod, 23, 26, 65, 75, 123

E Ecumenical assembly, 85n20 Eichsfeld, 27 EKD (Evangelische Kirche in Deutschland or Federation of Evangelical Churches in Germany), 2, 31, 35, 37, 45n48, 52, 56n3, 58, 60, 63, 68, 69, 77, 80-82,

84n13, 85nn16,23,29, 87n51, 88n64, 112n51, 128, 131, 135n14, 136n28 Eppelmann, Rainer, 67, 103

F Fahneneid, 25, 38 Falcke, Heino, 30, 34, 57n7, 61, 68, 71, 72, 74, 79, 86nn32,34,47, 96, 98, 100, 124, 129, 130, 133, 137n41 FDJ (Freie Deutsche Jugend or Free German Youth), 18, 19, 85n18, 90 Fränkel, Hans-Joachim, 30 Freedom of conscience, 25, 32, 33, 38, 62, 65 FRG, 1, 2, 4, 27, 31, 45n49, 56n2, 60, 7274, 76, 78, 81, 82, 85n23, 104, 109, 114, 126, 132, 136n34, 137n43, 140, 142n1 Basic Law, 1, 2, 5n2, 74, 75, 95, 97, 99, 100, 105-107, 111nn31,44, 112nn53,59, 114 (see also Appendix) Ministry of Defense, 85n26 Ministry for Family and Seniors, 127 Friemel, Georg, 91, 101-103, 110n11, 111nn30,39, 112n47

G Gaudium et spes, 23, 43n26 GDR, 1, 3, 4, 5nn3,6,8,10, 6n11, 9, 1141n1, 42nn5,6,10,13,16, 43nn25,31, 44nn40,42, 45n47, 49, 52, 46n63, 5055, 56n4, 57-59, 61, 62, 64, 66-68, 7176, 81-83, 84nn6,9,12, 85nn17,24, 86nn38,48, 89-92, 94-98, 100, 102108, 109n1, 110n9, 111nn30,34, 114, 115, 117-119, 121-132, 135n13, 136nn27,34, 137n36, 138-140, 142n1 Constitution, 5nn2,6, 16, 18, 20, 23, 25, 32-34, 41n2, 42n4, 43n28, 45nn49,53, 55, 57n14, 59, 62, 66, 67, 84n12, 85n24, 86n33, 90, 91, 94, 105-107, 110nn7,18,19, 112n51, 113n62, 124, 134n1, 135n7, 136n22 (see also Appendix) Ministry of Defense, 66-68, 77, 81, 82 Ministry of Education, 90, 109, 119 Ministry of Health, 118, 120 Ministry of International Commerce, 120

Index | 185

Peace policy, 33, 59-61 Youth policy, 115, 117, 134n4 Giddens, Anthony, 70, 131, 132 Gienke, Horst, 84n13 Goeckel, Robert F, 5n6, 18, 19, 23, 29-31, 33, 35, 41n1, 42n4, 45nn49,55, 46n60, 64, 84nn6,7, 121 Graf, Friedrich-Wilhelm, 21, 32, 42n16, 46n68, 74, 76, 85n17, 86n45, 87n58, 141, 142n1 Green/Alliance 90’, 99 Groß, Otto, 44n34 Guardian office, 30, 86nn35, 44, 130, 132 Guiding metaphors, 9-16, 20, 21, 29, 34, 36-41, 49, 50, 53, 55, 56n5, 57n10, 58, 59, 66, 67, 69, 78, 83, 89, 90, 122, 123, 131, 138, 139, 141 Gysi, Klaus, 64

H Habermas, Jürgen, 86nn48,49 Heidelberg Theses, 34, 63 Heidingsfeld, Uwe-Peter, 76, 77, 79, 84n13, 85n17, 87nn51,55 Hirschman, Albert O., 12, 17, 39, 45n46, 46n66, 50, 53, 56n1, 59, 69, 70, 77, 79, 87n59, 131, 132, 138, 140 Hoenen, Raimund, 95, 101-103, 111n35,112n47 Honecker, Erich, 31, 32, 43n24, 61, 66, 110n9 Höppner, Renate, 98, 110n20, 111n26 Hostombe, Peter, 120, 127, 128, 136n30 Huber, Wolfgang, 42, 74, 86, 106, 107, 112 Humanae vitae, 23

I Innovation, 11, 12, 41, 49, 56n1, 97, 105, 109, 114, 135n17 Institutions, 1, 4, 12, 16, 37, 39, 41, 42n5, 43n26, 44n32, 49-51, 53, 54, 56, 59, 60, 84n12, 86nn46,47, 135n7, 136n22, 137nn37,44,46 Politics of institutionalization, 5, 11, 13, 49, 53, 54, 59, 69, 71, 94, 114, 133, 139, 140 Instruction in state ideology (Staatsbürgerkunde), 93, 98, 110n17 Isomorphism, 46n64, 116, 132

J John Paul II, 24, 65 Jugendweihe (civil consecration ceremony), 5n3, 18, 19, 20, 24, 25, 29, 38, 42n12, 43nn29,30, 65, 73, 90, 92, 93, 111n30, 112n45, 119 Jüngel, Eberhard, 30, 31

K Ketman, 21, 40, 46n69, 104 Knauft, Wolfgang, 42n18 Krusche, Werner, 30, 50, 54, 65, 71, 72, 86n35, 123, 133, 136n19

L Laity, 11, 23, 26-28, 41 Lehmann, Karl, 103, 127 Leich, Werner, 30, 76 Lepsius, Rainer, 4, 9, 10, 12, 16, 17, 25, 39, 41n3, 42n5, 49, 51, 53, 55, 107, 129, 132 Loccum Declaration, 52, 87n54 Luther, 5n9, 19, 33, 67, 88n64, 108 Celebrations, 19, 33

M Marxism-Leninism, 16, 17, 42n9, 90 Meißen synod, 23 Meisner, Joachim, 42n17, 44n32 Meyer, Hans Joachim, 34, 42n12, 44n41, 75, 94, 96, 103, 111n44, 128 Milker, Friederike, 96, 97 Militarization, 33, 61, 64 Military Chaplaincy, 2, 4, 31, 45n47, 52, 55, 58-60, 62, 67-69, 71, 73-79, 81, 83, 84nn1,3, 85nn27,28, 87n63, 88nn66,68, 99, 133, 141 Chaplains, 68, 73, 74, 79, 81, 82, 85, 88, 141 Lebenskundlicher Unterricht, 69, 73, 87n62 Military Chaplaincy Treaty, 60, 6769, 71-73, 76, 81, 84n13, 137n42 Protestant Commission on the Future of the Military Chaplaincy, 69, 76 Military service, 25, 33, 35, 38, 45, 62, 63, 65, 68, 85 community service, 62, 66-68, 85 objection, 62, 63

186 | Index

Milosz, Czeslaw, 16, 19, 21, 40, 41, 46n69, 90, 104 “Minority Church,” 32, 51, 57n11, 71, 72, 78, 80, 97, 104, 139 Misselwitz, Ruth, 98, 99, 111n26, 137n41 Mitzenheim, Moritz, 30, 61, 84n8 Modernity, 43n31, 77, 86nn47,48, 87n49, 139, 140

N NATO Church, 31, 60 Neubert, Ehrhart, 3, 19, 32, 34, 39, 40, 46nn58,61, 62, 74, 81, 86n40, 87n54, 101-103, 111nn35,36,45, 112, 130, 133 New federal states, 2, 21, 28, 36, 57n14, 69, 77, 81, 82, 86n46, 108, 125, 134, 136nn25, 31, 137n35 Niemöller, Martin, 115 Noack, Axel, 55, 60, 63, 71-74, 78-80, 84n1, 85n20, 87nn52,62, 104, 133 NVA (Nationale Volksarmee or National People’s Army), 33, 60, 62, 76, 84n11 Opposition movement, 33, 34, 76, 135n10

O Organizing principles, 9-15, 20, 21, 25, 29, 30, 36-38, 49, 50, 52, 53, 56, 59, 64, 67, 69, 70, 80, 82, 83, 89, 90, 122, 138, 139 Ostalgie, 3, 79 Ostpolitik, 2, 24 FRG, 2 Vatican, 24 Outpatients clinics, 125, 127

P Parents’ rights, 65, 92 Pastoral letters, 21, 23, 24, 25, 27, 33, 41, 62, 65, 75, 86n42, 92 Paul VI, 24, 43n26 PDS (Partei des Demokratischenr Sozialismus), 5, 101 Peace, 2, 19, 25, 31, 34, 37, 39, 45nn56,57, 52, 55, 59, 60-69, 72, 80, 84n2, 85nn16,18,20,27, 88, 92-94, 112n51, 121, 137n42, 140, 141 Armed peace, 33, 59, 60, 61 Communist World Peace Council, 33, 84n6 Ethics of peace, 25, 37, 69, 141 Peace movement, 2, 19, 34, 39, 55, 61, 64, 65

Peace service, 45n55, 61, 63, 64, 84n11, 88n67 Peaceful revolution, 3, 55, 56n5, 58, 66, 86n42, 93 People’s church, 22, 32, 35, 39, 45n52, 51, 52, 54, 57nn6,11, 72, 74, 76, 80, 82, 86n34, 95, 97, 98, 104, 114, 121, 133, 139 “People’s church on hold,” 29, 40, 91, 104, 138 People’s Solidarity (Volkssolidarität), 19, 124 Petzold, Ernst, 118, 121-124 Pyrrhic victory, 108, 141 Poland, 23, 36, 118 Politburo, 19, 60, 66 Political abstinence, 21, 22, 25-29, 37-39, 64, 75, 90, 92, 104, 115, 120, 138 Practicing nonbelievers, 35, 36, 38, 64, 65, 93 Priesters’ seminary, 22, 28 Protestantism, 13, 32, 38, 42n16, 52, 71, 79, 96, 116, 122, 131, 136n18 Liberal Protestantism, 72, 76, 86n45 Proxy debate (Stellvertreterstreit), 58 Prussia, 71 Puschmann, Hellmut, 126, 127, 136n27

R Rathke, Heinrich, 30, 32 Reestablishment of the church unity (ecclesiastical unification), 49, 52, 55, 56 Reichskonkordat, 43n23, 75, 82, 84n3, 110n7 Reinelt, Joachim, 102, 128 Religious freedom, 20 Religious instruction, 2, 4, 13, 22, 25, 27, 32, 36, 42n4, 44n39, 52, 55, 72, 85n24, 87n61, 88n70, 89-91, 93-108, 109n1, 110nn7,8,11,18,19, 111nn29,42, 112nn47,51-54, 113n62, 119, 120, 127-130, 133 Catechism classes, 91 Christenlehre, 5n9, 32, 36, 92, 94, 97, 99, 110nn10,14,16 LER, 101, 104, 106-108, 109n2, 112n49, 113n60, 130 “Frohe Herrgottstunden, ” 91, 120 “Religiöse Kinderwoche, ” 57n8, 91, 92, 120 “Rüstzeiten für Kinder, ” 92

Index | 187

Teachers of, 85n14, 90, 91, 96, 99, 100, 102, 103, 107, 108, 110n18, 111n42, 112n55 Rendtorff, Trutz, 76, 101 Rhön, 27 Round table discussions, 66, 67, 106

S Secularization, 18, 28, 32, 72, 86n32, 89, 97, 98, 100-102, 109n1, 111n35, 122, 129, 133 Soviet Military Administration (SMAD), 42nn4,8 Special community of Evangelical Christians, 5n6, 31, 45n49, 58, 67 Schmitt, Carl, 50, 53, 57n10, 80, 124 Schönherr, Albrecht, 29-32, 34, 38, 43n24, 44n42, 61, 84n2, 121 Schorlemmer, Friedrich, 34, 97, 100, 111n24 SED (Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands), 16-18, 20, 22, 23, 26, 29, 31, 33, 37, 39, 42n4, 43n23, 49, 59, 60, 62, 65, 66, 73, 74, 75, 81, 84nn4,11, 86n31, 97, 98, 101, 103, 107, 141 Seigewasser, Hans, 29 Social work, 119-122, 124, 135n12 Socialism, 3, 10, 13, 15-17, 19, 20, 22, 2426, 28-41, 44nn37,43, 46n68, 50, 52, 53, 56n5, 57n9, 59, 61, 62, 64, 67, 74, 76, 79, 81, 82, 85n15, 90, 93, 100-102, 104, 111n36, 115, 117, 118, 121-124, 126, 134n2, 138, 139 Improvable socialism, 30 Sorbia, 27 SPD (Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands), 86n45 Spülbeck, Otto, 22, 23, 43n19 Stasi (Staatssicherheit), 19, 36, 43n21, 56n5, 80 Sterzinsky, Georg, 75, 105 Subsidiarity principle, 114, 115, 117, 118, 124-126, 128, 129, 134, 134n1 “Swords into Plowshares,” 64, 67 Synod, 23, 26, 29-31, 38, 44n43, 45n50, 46n63, 63, 65, 67-69, 75, 81, 85n23, 93, 106, 108, 123

T Territorial churches (Landeskirchen), 31, 37, 38, 45n47, 54, 56n3, 60, 63, 64, 68, 72, 73, 81, 84n4, 88nn64,68, 105, 112n51, 121 Anhalt, 134 Berlin-Brandenburg, 68, 71, 85n23, 88nn64,67, 106, 107, 112n54, 123 Görlitz, 63, 93 Church Province of Saxony, 46n71, 85n23, 87n60, 88n67, 124, 127 Mecklenburg, 30, 67 Saxony, 108 Thuringia, 30, 108 Thierse, Wolfgang, 42, 111n38 Third Reich, 3, 30, 43n28, 76, 87n50, 92, 121, 125 Third way, 52, 131 Thumfart, Alexander, 1, 31, 79, 85n16 Tiefensee, Eberhard, 101-103 Transformation, 4, 9, 12, 14, 49, 52, 53, 59, 69, 80, 83, 108, 127, 129, 132, 138, 189

U Ulbricht, Walter, 19, 136n34 Unarmed construction units (Bausoldaten), 33, 62 Unification, 1, 2, 4, 9, 11-14, 13, 27, 37, 40, 41, 49-53, 55, 56, 59, 67, 68, 75, 77, 79, 80, 90, 94, 100, 102, 127, 135nn5,11 German unification, 1, 4, 11-14, 27, 37, 40, 49, 55, 56n2, 75, 77, 79, 80, 90, 94, 100, 102, 105, 126, 135, 140, 141 German Unification Treaty, 124, 134, 136n22

V Vatican II, 22, 23, 37, 43n31, 46n63, 112n50, 123

W Wagner, Heinz, 121-123, 136n19 Wanke, Joachim, 22, 26, 41, 44nn35,38, 57n8, 65, 75, 97, 121, 127 Webber’s Ladder-theory, 135n17 Weber, Max, 4, 9-12, 14n2, 53, 56n1, 57n12, 97, 111n37

188 | Index

Weidel, Gotthard 74, 76, 78 Weimar Republic, 15, 16, 20, 46n68, 50, 56, 86n33, 88, 91, 92, 110n19, 114, 115, 124, 132 Constitution, 16, 18, 20, 42n4, 84n12, 86, 91, 110, 113n62 “Wende,” 5, 50, 52, 53, 66, 67, 72, 82, 83, 98-101, 124, 130, 139, 142 Weskamm, Wilhelm, 22, 43n20 Wichern, Joannes Hinrich, 116, 122, 136n19 Wienken, Heinrich, 44n34 Witness and service community, 29, 32, 121, 122 Wollbold, Andreas, 67, 72, 75

Z Zeddies, Helmut, 68, 69, 71, 73, 78, 85n26, 105 Ziegler, Martin, 118, 121, 123 Zinke, Johannes, 44n34