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Heterogeneity and the Baloch Identity

20AUG

Professor Dr. Taj Mohammad Breseeg

By Professor Dr. Taj Mohammad Breseeg University of Balochistan, Quetta

Introduction

As the saying goes, “nations are built when diversity is accepted, just as communities are built when individuals can be themselves and yet work for and with each other.” In order to understand the pluralistic structure of the Baloch society, this paper begins with a critical study of the Baloch’s sense of identity, by discarding idealist views of national identity that overemphasize similarities. From this perspective, identity refers to the sharing of essential elements that define the character and orientation of people and affirm their common needs, interests, and goals with reference to joint action. At the same time it recognizes the importance of differences. Simply put, a nuanced view of national identity does not exclude heterogeneity and plurality. This is not an idealized view, but one rooted in sociological inquiry, in which heterogeneity and shared identity together help form potential building blocks of a positive future for the Baloch.

Yet the dilemma of reconciling plurality and unity constitutes an integral part of the definition of the Baloch identity. In fact, one flaw in the thinking by the Baloch about themselves is the tendency toward an idealized concept of identity as something that is already completely formed, rather than as something to be achieved. Hence, there is a lack of thinking about the conditions that contribute to the making and unmaking of the Baloch national identity. The belief that unity is inevitable, a foregone conclusion, flows from this idealized view of it.

Another equally serious flaw is the tendency among some of the Baloch nationalists to think in terms of separate and independent forces of unity and forces of divisiveness, ignoring the dialectical relationship between these forces. Thus, we have been told repeatedly that there are certain elements of unity (such as language, common culture, geography, or shared history) as well as certain elements of fragmentation (such as communalism, tribalism, localism, or regionalism). If, instead, we view these forces from the vantage point of dialectical relations, the definition of Baloch identity involves a simultaneous and systematic examination of both the processes of unification and fragmentation. This very point makes it possible to argue that the Baloch can belong together without being the same; similarly, it can be seen that they may have antagonistic relations without being different.

The Sense of Belonging

The specificity of Balochistan geography and geopolitics has affected and shaped the character of the Baloch, their vision of the world and the way they have continued to reproduce and reinterpret their cultural elements and traditions. The Baloch myths and memories persist over generations and centuries, forming contents and contexts for collective self-definition and affirmation of collective identities in the face of the other.[1]

Located on the south-eastern Iranian plateau, with an approximately 600,000 sq. km., an area rich with diversity, that also incorporates within it a wide social variety, Balochistan is larger than France (551,500 sq. km.).[2] It is an austere land of steppe and desert intersected by numerous mountain chains. Naturally, the climate of such a vast territory has extraordinary varieties.[3] In the northern and interior highlands, the temperature often drops to 400 F in winter, while the summers are temperate. The coastal region is extremely hot, with temperature soaring between 1000 to 1300 F in summers, while winters provide a more favourable climate. In spite of its position on the direction of southwest monsoon winds from Indian Ocean, Balochistan seldom receives more than 5 to 12 inches of rainfall per year due to the low altitude of Makkoran’s coastal ranges.[4] The ecological factors have, however, been responsible for the fragmentation of agricultural centres and pasturelands, thus shaping the formation of the traditional tribal economy and its corresponding socio-political institutions.[5]

Balochistan’s geographical location between India and the Mesopotamian civilization had given it a unique position as cross roads between earlier civilizations. Some of the earliest human civilizations emerged in Balochistan, Mehrgar the earliest civilization known to man kind yet, is located in eastern Balochistan, the Kech civilization in central Makkuran date back to 4000 BC, Burned city near Zahidan, the provincial capital in western Balochistan date back to 3000 BC. Thus, by the course of time, a cluster of different religions, languages and cultures coexisted side by side. Similarly in the Islamic era we see the flourishing of different sects of Islam (Sunni, Zikri and Shia), remarkable marriage of tribal and semi-tribal society enriched with colourful cultural and traditional heritage.[6]

The Baloch, probably numbering close to 15 million, are one of the largest trans-state nations in southwest Asia.[7] The question of Baloch origins, i.e., who the Baloch are and where they come from, has for too long remained an enigma. Doubtless in a few words one can respond, for example, that Baloch are the end-product of numerous layers of cultural and genetic material superimposed over thousands of years of internal migrations, immigrations, cultural innovations and importations.Balochistan, the cradle of ancient civilizations, has seen many races, people, religions and cultures during the past few thousand years. From the beginning of classical history three old-world civilizations, Dravidian, Semitic and Aryan, met, formed bonds, and were mutually influenced on the soil of Balochistan. To a lesser or greater extent, they left their marks on this soil, particularly in the religious beliefs and the ethnic composition of the country.[8]

The exact meaning and origin of the term Baloch is somewhat cloudy. Its designation may have a geographical origin, as is the case of many nations in the world. Etymological view supported by some scholars is that the name Baloch probably derives from Gedrozia or “Kedrozia” the name of the Baloch country in the time of Alexander the Great (356-323 BC)”.[9] The term Gedrozia with the suffix of “ia” seems to be a Greek or Latin construction, like Pers-ia , Ind -ia, Kurdia, etc. Gedrozia, the land of the rising sun, was the eastern most Satrapy (province) of the Median Empire. Probably, its location was the main source of its designation as “Gedroz or Gedrozia”. It should be noted that there are two other eastern countries in the Iranian plateau, namely Khoran and Nimroz, both have their designation originated from the same source, the sun. They are known as the lands of rising sun. Like the suffix “istan”, Roz (Roch) is also a suffix for various place and family names construction in Iranian languages.

Having studied the etymology of the term “Kurd”, the Kurdish scholar Mohammad Amin Seraji believes that the term “Baloch” is the corrupted form of the term Baroch or Baroz. Arguing on the origin and the meaning of the term, Seraji says, the Baroz has a common meaning both in Kurdish and Balochi, which means the land of the rising sun (ba-roch or “toward sun”). Locating at the eastern most corner of the Median Empire, the county probably got the designation “Baroch or baroz” during the Median or early Achaemenid era, believes Seraji. According to him, there are several tribes living in Eastern Kurdistan, who are called Barozi (because of their eastward location in the region). Based on an ancient Mesopotamian text, some scholars, however, opine that the word “Baloch” is a corrupted form of Melukhkha, Meluccha or Mleccha, which was the designation of the modern eastern Makkoran during the third and the second millennia B.C.[10]

Historically, defeating the Median Empire in 549 BC, the mightiest Persian King, Darius (522-485), subjugated Balochistan at around 540 B.C. He declared the Baloch country as one of his walayat(province) and appointed a satrap (governor) to it.[11] Probably it was during this era, the Madian and the later Persian domination era, the Baloch tribes were gradually Aryanised, and their language and the national characteristics formed. If that is the case, the formation of the Baloch ethno-linguistic identity should be traced back to the early centuries of the first millennium BC.

Etymologically speaking, there are many territorial or regional names, which are derived after the four cardinal points (East, West, North and South).[12] For example, the English word Japan is not the name used for their country by the Japanese while speaking the Japanese language: it is an exonym.[13]The Japanese names for Japan are Nippon and Nihon. Both Nippon and Nihon literally mean “the sun’s origin”, that is, where the sun originates, and are often translated as the Land of the Rising Sun. This nomenclature comes from Imperial correspondence with Chinese Sui Dynasty and refers to Japan’s eastward position relative to China. Being a Balochi endonym, the origin of the word “Balochistan” can be identified with more precision and certainty. The term constitutes of two parts, “Baloch” and “–stan”. The last part of the name “-stan” is an Indo-Iranian suffix for “place”, prominent in many languages of the region. The name Balochistan quite simply means “the land of the Baloch”, which bears in itself a significant national connotation identifying the country with the Baloch.[14] Gankovsky, a Soviet scholar on the subject, has attributed the appearance of the name to the “formation of Baloch feudal nationality” and the spread of the Baloch over the territory bearing their name to this day during the period between the 12th and the 15th century.[15] The Baloch may be divided into two major groups. The largest and the most extensive of these are the Baloch who speak Balochi or any of its related dialects. This group represents the Baloch “par excellence”. The second group consists of the various non-Balochi speaking groups, among them are the Baloch of Sindh and Punjab and the Brahuis of eastern Balochistan who speak Sindhi, Seraiki and Brahui respectively. Despite the fact that the latter group differs linguistically, they believe themselves to be Baloch, and this belief is not contested by their Balochi-speaking neighbours. Moreover, many prominent Baloch leaders have come from this second group.[16] Thus, language has never been a hurdle for Balochs’ religious and cultural unity. Even before the improvement of roads, communication, printing, “Doda-o Balach and Shaymorid-o Hani” stories were popular throughout the length and breadth of Balochistan.

Despite the heterogeneous composition of the Baloch, however, in some cases attested in traditions preserved by the tribes, they believe themselves to have a common ancestry. Some scholars have claimed a Semitic ancestry for the Baloch, a claim which is also supported by the Baloch genealogy and traditions, and has found wide acceptance among the Baloch writers. Even though this belief may not necessarily agree with the facts (which, it should be pointed out, are very difficult to prove, either way), it is the concept universally held among members of the group that matters. In this connection Kurdish nationalism offers a good parallel. The fact is that there are many common ethnic factors which have contributed to the formation of the Kurdish nation; there are also factors which have led to divisions within the Kurds themselves. While the languages identified as Kurdish are not the same as the Persian, Arabic, or Turkish, they are mutually unintelligible. Geographically, the division between the Kurmanji-speaking areas and the Sorani-speaking areas correspond with the division between the Sunni and Shiite schools of Islam. Despite all these factors, the Kurds form one of the oldest nations in the Middle East.Tribal loyalties continue to dominate the Baloch society, and the allegiance of the majority of the Baloch have been to their extended families, clans, and tribes. The Baloch tribes share an ideology of common descent and segmentary alliance and opposition. These principles do actually operate at the level of the smaller sub-tribes, but they are contradicted by the political alliances and authority relations integrating these sub-tribes into larger wholes. In a traditional, tribal society a political ideology such as Baloch nationalism would be unable to gain support, because loyalties of tribal members do not extend to entities rather than individual tribes. The failure of the tribes to unite in the cause of Baloch nationalism is a replay of tribal behaviour in both the Pakistani and Iranian Baloch revolts. Within the tribes, an individual’s identity is based on his belonging to a larger group. This larger group is not the nation but the tribe. However, the importance of the rise of a non-tribal movement over more tribal structures should not be underestimated. In this respect the Baloch movements of the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s provide us a good example.[17]

The Baloch have devised a nationalist ideology, but realise that the tribal support remains a crucial ingredient to any potential success of a national movement. By accepting the support of the tribes, however, the nationalists fall vulnerable to tribal rivalries. Tribal ties, however, are of little significance in southern Balochistan (both Pakistani and Iranian Balochistan), Makkoran, which was originally a stratified society, with a class of nominally Baloch landowners controlling the agricultural resources. The great majority of the tribes in Balochistan view them and are viewed by outsiders as the Baloch.[18]

Politically, the British occupation of the Baloch State of Kalat in 1839 was perhaps the greatest event and turning point in the Baloch history. From the very day the British forces occupied Kalat state, Baloch destiny changed dramatically. The painful consequences for the Baloch were the partition of their land and perpetual occupation by foreign forces. Concerned with con taining the spread of the Russian Socialist Revolution of 1917, the British assisted Persian to incorporate western Balochistan in 1928 in order to strengthen the latter country as a barrier to Russian ex pansion southward. The same concern also led later to the annexation of Eastern Balochistan to Pakistan in 1948.

Thus, colonial interests worked against the Baloch and deprived them of their self-determination and statehood. Confirming this notion, in 2006, in a pamphlet, the Foreign Policy Centre, a leading European think tank, launched under the patronage of the British Prime Minister Tony Blair, revealed that it was British advice that led to the forcible accession of Kalat to Pakistan in 1948. Referring reliable British government archives, the Foreign Policy Centre argues, that the Secretary of State Lord Listowell advised Mountbatten in September 1947 that because of the location of Kalat, it would be too dangerous and risky to allow it to be independent. The British High Commissioner in Pakistan was accordingly asked “to do what he can to guide the Pakistan government away from making any agreement with Kalat which would involve recognition of the state as a separate international entity”.[19]

Since the early 20th century, Balochistan’s political boundaries do not conform to its physical frontier; they vary widely. Eastern Balochistan with Quetta as its capital has been administered by Pakistan since 1948; western Balochistan, officially known as “Sistan-wa-Balochistan” with Zahedan as its capital, has been under the control of Iran since 1928; and the Northern Balochistan known as the Walayat-i-Nimrooz, has been under the Afghan control since the early 20th century.

Shared History

As the Kurd, Baloch make a large ethnic community in the Southwest Asia without a state of their own. Baloch folk tales and legends points out that major shift of Baloch population to the present land of Balochistan were brought about in different times and different places. From linguistic evidence, it appears that the Baloch migrated southward from the region of the Caspian Sea. Viewed against this background, the Baloch changed several geographical, political and social environments. Thus from the very beginning they learned to adjust themselves with different cultures and way of life.

The Baloch history is a chain of unsuccessful uprisings for autonomy and independence. It tells about genocide, forcible assimilation, deportation and life in exile. Since its inception, the Baloch national identity has been seen as based primarily on such experiences. However, the early political history of the Baloch is obscure. It appears to have begun with the process of the decline of the central rule of the Caliphate in the region and the subsequent rise of the Baloch in Makkoran in the early years of the 11th century.[20] The Umawid general Mohammad bin Qasim captured Makkoran in 707 AD. Thereafter, Arab governors ruled the country at least until the late 10th century when the central rule of the Abbasid Caliphate began to decline.[21]

The period of direct Arab rule over Makkoran lasted about three centuries. By gradually accepting Islam, the scattered Baloch tribes over vast area (from Indus in the east, to Kerman in the west), acquired a new common identity, the Islamic. Thus Islam gave them added cohesion.[22] The Arab rule also relieved them from the constant political and military pressure from Persia in the north. Moreover, as mentioned earlier, they benefited materially from the growth of trade and commerce which flourished in the towns and ports under the Arabs, reviving the old sea and land-based trade routes that linked India to Persia and Arabia through western Makkoran.[23]

Under the Arab rule, the Baloch tribal chiefs became a part of the privileged Muslim classes, and identified themselves with the Arab caliphate and represented it in the region. The conflicts between the Arab caliphate and the Baloch on the one hand, and the neighbouring non-Muslim powers on the other, strengthened the “Muslim” identity of the Baloch, while the conflicts between the Arab caliphate and the Baloch contributed to their “tribal unity and common” consciousness. The threats posed to the Arab Empire and to the Baloch, would gradually narrow the gap between the warlike Baloch tribes. In this process, Islam would function as a unifying political ideology and promote a common culture among the Baloch tribal society and its different social classes as a whole. These developments appear to have played a significant role in enabling the Baloch to form large-scale tribal federations that led to their gradual political and military supremacy in the territories now forming Balochistan during the period of 11th to 13th centuries.[24] Thus, the early middle ages saw the first emergence of a distinctive Baloch culture and the establishment of the Baloch principalities and dynasties. As the power of Arabs after the first Islamic staunch victory declined with fragmentation of Islam across the Sunni and Shiites theological lines, the Baloch tribes moved to fill the administrative, political and spiritual vacuum.

Since the 12th century the Baloch formed powerful tribal unions. The confederacy of forty-four tribes under Mir Jalal Khan in the 12th century, the Rind-Lashari confederacy of the fifteenth century, the Maliks, the Dodais, the Boleidais, and the Gichkis of Makkoran, and the Khanate of Balochistan in the 17thcentury, united and merged all the Baloch tribes at different times. Moreover, the invasions of the Mughals and the Tatars, the wars and the mass migrations of the thirteenth and the fourteenth centuries, and the cross tribal alliances and marriages, contributed to the shaping of the Baloch identity.[25]

Thus, historical experiences have played an important role to the formation of the Baloch national identity. In this regards the Swiss experience shows a remarkable similarity. In the Swiss case strength of common historical experience and a common consensus of aspirations have been sufficient to weld into nationhood groups without a common linguistic or cultural background. The history of the Baloch people over the past hundred years has been a history of evolution, from traditional society to a more modern one. (“More modern” is a comparative term, and does not imply a “modern” society, i.e. a culminating end-point to the evolution.) As such, the reliance on tribal criteria is stronger in the earlier movements, and the reliance on nationalism stronger in the later ones. Similarly, the organizing elements in the early movements are the tribes; the political parties gradually replace the tribes as mass mobilization is channeled into political institutions.[26]

Culture and the Baloch Identity

Geography helps, because it accustoms the Baloch to the idea of difference. Thus, the Baloch culture owes much to the geography of the country. The harsh climate and mountainous terrain breeds a self-reliant people used to hardship; the same conditions, however, result in isolation and difficulties in communication. In terms of physical geography, Balochistan has more in common with Iranian plateau than with the Indian subcontinent. On the north, it is separated from India by the massive barrier of the southern buttresses of the Sulaiman Mountains. On the south, there is the long extension from Kalat of the inconceivably wild highland country, which faces the desert of Sindh, the foot of which forms the Indian frontier. The cultural heartland lies in the interior, in the valleys of Kech, Panjgur and Bampur in the Southern and central Balochistan.[27]

Being expressed through language, literature, religion, customs, traditions and beliefs, culture is a complex of many strands of varying importance and vitality. The Balochs’ adjustability, accommodation and spirit of tolerance enable their culture survive several vicissitudes. The Baloch people are distinct from the Punjabi and the Persian elite that dominate Pakistani and Iranian politics – they are Muslims but more secular in their outlook (in a similar fashion to the Kurds) with their own distinct language and culture. Spooner points to the importance of the Balochi language as a unifying factor between the numerous groups nowadays identifying themselves as “Baloch”. He wrote, “Baluch identity in Baluchistan has been closely tied to the use of the Baluchi language in inter-tribal relations”.[28] In spite of almost half a century of brutal assimilation policy, both in Iran and Pakistan, the Baloch people have managed to retain their culture and their oral tradition of story telling. This explains the tendency to dismiss the existing states as artificial and to call for political unity coinciding with linguistic identity. The prevailing view is that only a minority of the people of Balochistan lack a sense of being Baloch; this minority category includes the Persians of Sistan and the Pashtuns of Eastern Balochistan.[29]

It is, however, worth mentioning that the linguistic and ethnic plurality had been the rule in the almost all Baloch tribal unions in the past. The Rind-Lashari union of the 15 century, the Zikri state of Makkuran and the Brahui Confederacy of Kalat, all constituted of diverse tribal confederacies. No attempt had been made to force Kalat subjects to speak Brahui, a large number of tribes did not speak it as their first language and perhaps most Kalat subjects did not speak it at all. The Brahui tribes spoke Barahui, the Lasis and Jadgal spoke Jadgali, and the Baloch spoke Balochi.

Being a tribal people, religion plays a less important role in the daily life of the Baloch. It is generally believed that before the emergence of the Islamic fundamentalism in the region, Baloch were not religiously devout as compared to their neighbours, the Persians, Punjabis and the Pashtuns. Their primary loyalties were to their tribal leaders. Unlike the Afghan he is seldom a religious bigot and, as Sir Denzil Ibbetson, in mid-19th century described the Baloch, “he has less of God in his head, and less of the devil in his nature”[30] Thus, historically speaking, the Baloch always have had a more secular and pluralistic seen on religion than their neighbours.

Because the Pakistani state assumed the mantle of two-nation theory (Islam/Hinduism) based on Islam for its legitimacy, as a countermovement one can expect most Baloch to rely on ethno-nationalism. In 1947, Mir Ghaus Bakhsh Bizenjo voiced the Baluch opinion against the religious nationalism of Pakistan: “We are Muslims but it (this fact) did not mean (it is) necessary to lose our independence and to merge with other (nations) because of the Muslim (faith). If our accession into Pakistan is necessary, being Muslim, then Muslim states of Afghanistan and Iran should also merge with Pakistan.”[31]

As mentioned earlier, linguistically the Baloch society is diverse. There are a substantial number of Brahui speakers in the central and northern Balochistan who are culturally very similar to the Baloch, and the Baloch, who inhabit the Indus Plains, Punjab and Sindh retain their ethnic identity though they now speak Sindhi or Seraiki. Although Brahui and Balochi are unrelated languages, multi-lingualism is common among them. Having considered this reality, Tariq Rahman believes, “The Balochi and Brahvi languages are symbols of the Baloch identity, which is a necessary part of Baloch nationalism.”[32]

Of the various elements that go into the making of the Baloch national identity, probably the most important is a common social and economic structure. For while many racial strains have contributed to the making of the Baloch people, and while there are varying degrees of differences in language and dialect among the various groups, a particular type of social and economic organisation, comprising what has been described as a “tribal culture”, is common to them all. This particular tribal culture is the product of environment, geographical, and historical forces, which have combined to shape the general configuration of Baloch life and institutions. Describing the Baloch economy in early 1980s, a prominent authority on the subject of Baloch nationalism, Selig S. Harrison wrote, “Instead of relying solely on either nomadic pastoralism or on settled agriculture, most Baloch practice a mixture of the two in order to survive”.[33]

A classic sociological principle proposes a positive relationship between external conflicts and internal cohesion.[34] One such exclusive focus is the constantly expressed view that the only thing the Baloch agree on is the hatred of Gajar (Persian) and Punjabi dominance. The common struggle against the alien invaders, while strengthening the common bonds, develops national feelings. According to Peter Kloos, for reasons that are still very unclear, people confronted with powerful forces that lie beyond their horizon, and certainly beyond their control, tend to turn to purportedly primordial categories, turning to the familiarity of their own ethnic background. In the process they try to gain an identity of their own by going back to the fundamentals of their religion, to a language unspoken for generations, to the comfort of a homeland that may have been theirs in the past. In doing so, they construct a new identity.[35]

The Baloch people face unique challenges contingent on the nation-state in which they reside. For example, in Iran, where the Baloch are thought to comprise more than two million are restricted from speaking Balochi freely and have been subjected in military operations by the Persian dominated state. The harsh oppression of the Iranian and Pakistani states has strengthened the Balochs’ will to pass on their heritage to coming generations. The Balochi language is both proof and symbol of the separate identity of the Baloch, and impressive efforts are made to preserve and develop it.[36] Having realized the significance of the language (Balochi) as the most determinant factor for the Baloch identity, the Persian and Punjabi dominated states of Iran and Pakistan have sought to “assimilate” the Baloch by all possible means.[37]

Globalization and the Baloch Identity

Since the early 2000, electronic media has been a continually changing forum for communicating, which has been taken up by the Baloch communities to maintain connections with their brethren all over the world. In that capacity, the technology has been an easy and innovative avenue for cultural expression. The Baloch, for instance, have established on-line magazines, newsgroups, human rights organizations, student groups, academic organizations and book publishers for a trans-national community. Some of these informative and insightful English media include: Balochistan TV,radiobalochi.org, balochvoice.com, balochunity.org, balochinews.com, zrombesh.org, baloch2000.orgetc. Based out of the country, they have significantly contributed to the development of the Baloch identity.

The revival of ethnic identity is converging with the emergence of continental political and economic units theoretically able to accommodate smaller national units within overarching political, economic, and security frameworks. The nationalist resurgence is inexorably moving global politics away from the present state system to a new political order more closely resembling the world’s ethnic and historical geography. Thus, the new world order may hold light of hope for oppressed ethnic communities, who have survived empires, colonization, nation building processes by brutal neighbors who systematically eroded them, reduced their existence to rival tribes. Therefore, contrary to the globalist argument, the new media are not eroding the sense of national identity but rather reinforcing and providing it with a broader and much independent context to an ethno cultural identity across the juridical boundaries of states to strengthen and solidify its distinct cultural identity.

Conclusion

There is a general consensus among the scholars about the Baloch community with regard to heterogeneity in Baloch political society, that voluntary association, independence, autonomy, equality and consultation had remained its basic principles and ingredients. It is the idea of an ever-ever land – emerging from an ancient civilization, united by a shared history, sustained by pluralistic way of life. In fact this way of life made it possible for people with different social realities come under the umbrella of a free, willingly accepted social and cultural code. The Baloch em braced and assimilated other minor groups to extend their strength. The pre sent-day Baloch are not a single race, but are a people of different origins, whose lan guage belong to the Iranian family of languages. They are mixed with Arabs in the South, Indians in the East, and with Turkmen and other Altaic groups in the North West.

The very survival of the Baloch, as a distinctive nation is characterised by decentralisation and diversity: diversity of racial origins, of dialects, of tribes and communities, of religions. But it’s diversity within a unity, provided by common tribal culture, common history, common experiences and common dreams. Thus, it is necessary to understand the forces of unity and the forces of divisiveness in relation to each other. These forces operate within the context of underlying conflicts and confrontations and under certain specific conditions. The Baloch identity is therefore developed to the extent that it manifests itself through a sense of belonging and a diversity of affiliations. The Baloch also recognize a shared place in history and common experiences. Similarly, social formations and shared economic interests have helped to shape the Baloch identity. And, finally, the baloch identity is shaped by specific, shared external challenges and conflicts.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Baloch, Inayatullah, The Problem of Greater Baluchistan: A Study of Baluch Nationalism, Stuttgart : Steiner Verlag Wiesbaden GMBH, 1987. Baluch, Muhammad Sardar, History of Baluch Race and Baluchistan, Quetta : Khair – un -Nisa, Nisa Traders, Third Edition 1984; Baluch, Muhammad Sardar, The Great Baluch: The Life and Times of Ameer Chakar Rind 1454- 1551 A .D., Quetta , 1965. Breseeg,Taj Mohammad, Baloch Nationalism: Its Origin and Development, Karachi, Royal Book Company, 2004. Harrison, Selig S., In Afghanistan’s Shadow: Baluch Nationalism and Soviet Temptations, New York: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 1981. Holdich, Thomas, The Gate of India : Being a Historical Narrative, London , 1910. Sabir Badalkhan, “A Brief Note of Balochistan”, unpublished, 1998. This ariticle was submitted to the Garland Encyclopedia of World Folklore, New York-London, (in 13 vols): vol. 5, South Asia, edited by Margaret Mills. Hosseinbor, M. H., “Iran and Its Nationalities: The Case of Baluch Nationalism”, PhD. Thesis, The Amerikan university, 1984. Jahani, Carina, “Poetry and Politics: Nationalism and Language Standardization in the Balochi Literary Movement” in: Paul Titus (ed.), Marginality and Modernity: Ethnicity and Change in Post-Colonial Balochistan, Karachi: Oxford University Press, 1996. Kloos, Peter, “Secessionism in Europe in the Second Half of the 20th Century” in: Nadeem Ahmad Tahir (ed.), The Politics of Ethnicity and Nationalism in Europe and South Asia, Karachi , 1998. Malik Allah-Bakhsh, Baluch Qaum Ke Tarikh ke Chand Parishan Dafter Auraq, Quetta :, Islamiyah Press, 20 September, 1957. Possehl, Gergory L., Kulli: An Exploration of Ancient Civilization in Asia, Durham: Carolina Academic Press, 1986. Rahman,Tariq, “The Balochi/Brahvi Language Movements in Pakistan ”, in: Journal of South Asian and Middle East Studies Vol. XIX, No.3, Spring 1996. Spooner, Brian, “Baluchistan: Geography, History, and Ethnography” (pp. 598-632), In: Ehsan Yarshater, (ed), Encyclopadia Iranica, Vol. III, London – New York : Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1989. The Foreign Policy Centre, Balochis of Pakistan : On the Margins of History, Foreign Policy Centre, London 2006. The Gazetteer of Baluchistan: Makran, Quetta: Gosha-e Adab (repr. 1986). The Imperial Gazetteer of India, vol. VI, Oxford : Calaredon Press, 1908.

INTERVIEWS:

Seraji, Mohammad Amin, leading political figure since 1950’s, from Iranian Kurdistan, was borne in September 1934, Mahabad Kurdistan, educated from the faculty of Law, University of Tehran . Interview made in Stockholm in April 2006, (on tape in Persian).

[1] Muhammad Sardar Khan Baluch, History of Baluch Race and Baluchistan, Quetta : Khair – un -Nisa, Nisa Traders, Third Edition 1984, p. 26. [2] Inayatullah Baloch, The Problem of Greater Baluchistan, 1987, pp. 19-23; See also Janmahmad, Essays on Baloch National Struggle in Pakistan, p. 427. [3] For a good description of the natural climate of Western Balochistan see Naser Askari, Moghadamahi Bar Shenakht-e Sistan wa Balochistan, Tehran: Donya-e Danesh, 1357/1979 pp. 3-14. [4] Ibid., p. 9 [5] Taj Mohammad Breseeg, Baloch Nationalism: Its Origin and Development, Karachi, Royal Book Company, published in 2004, p. 64. [6] Ibid., pp. 74-77. [7] For more information, see Ibid., pp. 66-70. [8] Gergory L. Possehl, Kulli: An Exploration of Ancient Civilization in Asia , pp. 58-61. [9] Taj Mohammad Breseeg, Baloch Nationalism: Its Origin and Development, Karachi, Royal Book Company, published in 2004, p. 56. [10] J. Hansman, “A Periplus of Magan and Melukha”, in BSOAS, London , 1973, p. 555; H. W. Balley, “Mleccha, Baloc, and Gadrosia”, in: BSOAS, No. 36, London , 1973, pp. 584-87. Also see, Cf. K. Karttunen, India in Early Greek Literature, Studia Orientalia, no. 65, Helsinki : Finnish Oriental Society, 1989, pp. 13-14. [11] I. Afshar (Sistani), Balochistan wa Tamaddon-e Dirineh-e An, pp. 89-90. [12] Etymology is the study of the history of words — when they entered a language, from what source, and how their form and meaning have changed over time. In languages with a long detailed history, etymology makes use of philology, the stu how words change from culture to culture over time. However, etymologists also apply the methods of comparative linguistics to reconstruct information about languages that are too old for any direct information (such as writing) to be known. By analyzing related languages with a technique known as the comparative method, linguists can make inferences, about their shared parent language and its vocabulary. In this way, word roots have been found which can be traced all the way back to the origin of, for instance, the Indo-European language family. [13] An exonym is a name for a place that is not used within that place by the local inhabitants (neither in the official language of the state nor in local languages, or a name for a people or language that is not used by the people or language to which it refers. The name used by the people or locals themselves is called endonym . For example, Deutschland is an endonym; Germany is an English exonym for the same place. [14] That is also the case with other similar names such as Kurdistan (the Kurdish homeland), Arabistan (the Arab homeland), Uzbakistan, etc. In these names, the Persian affix “istan” meaning land or territory is added to the name of its ethnic inhabitants. [15] Yu. V. Gankovsky, The People of Pakistan : An ethnic history, pp. 147-8. [16] Many prominent Baloch nationalists, such as Mir Gaus Bakhsh Bizenjo, Sardar Atuallah Megal, Gul Khan Nasir are Brahui-speaking. [17] Breseeg, 2004, pp. 195-227. [18] Ibid., pp. 92-95. [19] The Foreign Policy Centre, Balochis of Pakistan : On the Margins of History, Foreign Policy Centre, London 2006. [20] M. H. Hosseinbor, “ Iran and Its Nationalities: The Case of Baluch Nationalism”, pp. 45-46. [21] Ibid., and see Breseeg, p. 109. [22] The Imperial Gazetteer of India , vol. VI, Oxford : Calaredon Press, 1908, p. 275. [23] Thomas Holdich, The Gate of India : Being an Historical Narrative, London , 1910, pp. 297-301. See also Dr. Sabir Badalkhan, “A Brief Note of Balochistan”, unpublished, 1998. This ariticle was submitted to the Garland Encyclopedia of World Folklore, New York-London, (in 13 vols): vol. 5, South Asia , edited by Margaret Mills. [24] Ibid. [25] For more detail, see Inayatullah Baloch, The Problem of Greater Baluchistan, pp. 89-125. [26] Breseeg, 2004, pp. 248-51. [27] It was in Makkuran that the early middle ages saw the first emergence of a distinctive Baloch culture and the establishment of the Baloch principalities and dynasties. [28] Brian Spooner, Baluchistan: Geography, History, and Ethography p. 599. [29] Breseeg, 2004, pp. 361-63, 296-98. [30] Sir Denzil Ibbeston, The races, castes and tribes of the people in the report on the Census of Punjab , published in 1883, cited in: Muhammad Sardar Khan Baluch, The Great Baluch, pp. 83-100. It is important to note that the Baloch way of life influenced the way in which Islam was adopted. Up to tenth century as observed by the Arab historian Al-Muqaddasi the Baloch were Muslim only by name (Al-Muqaddasi, Ahsanul Thaqasim, quoted in Dost Muhammad Dost, The Languages and Races of Afghanistan, Kabul, 1975, p. 363.) Similarly, Marco Polo, at the end of the thirteenth century, remarls that some of people are idolators but the most part are Saracens (The Gazetteer of Baluchistan: Makran, p. 113). [31] Malik Allah-Bakhsh, Baluch Qaum Ke Tarikh ke Chand Parishan Dafter Auraq, Quetta :, Islamiyah Press, 20 September, 1957 , p. 43. [32] Tariq Rahman, “The Balochi/Brahvi Language Movements in Pakistan ”, in: Journal of South Asian and Middle East Studies Vol. XIX, No.3, Spring 1996, p. 88. [33] Selig S. Harrison, In Afghanistan’s Shadow, p. 8. [34] See Peter Kloos, “Secessionism in Europe in the Second Half of the 20th Century” in: Tahir, Nadeem Ahmad (ed.), The Politics of Ethnicity and Nationalism in Europe and South Asia, Karachi , 1998. [35] Ibid. [36] Carina Jahani, “Poetry and Politics: Nationalism and Language Standardization in the Balochi Literary Movement”, p. 110. [37] Selig S. Harrison, In Afghanistan’s Shadow, pp. 95-96.

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Heterogeneity and the Baloch Identity

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Professor Dr. Taj Mohammad Breseeg

By Professor Dr. Taj Mohammad Breseeg University of Balochistan, Quetta

Introduction

The Sense of Belonging

Shared History

Culture and the Baloch Identity

Globalization and the Baloch Identity

Conclusion

BIBLIOGRAPHY

INTERVIEWS:

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Heterogeneity and the Baloch Identity

20AUG

Professor Dr. Taj Mohammad Breseeg

By Professor Dr. Taj Mohammad Breseeg University of Balochistan, Quetta

Introduction

The Sense of Belonging

Shared History

Culture and the Baloch Identity

Globalization and the Baloch Identity

Conclusion

BIBLIOGRAPHY

INTERVIEWS:

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baloch national identity in karachi

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Heterogeneity and the Baloch Identity

20AUG

Professor Dr. Taj Mohammad Breseeg

By Professor Dr. Taj Mohammad Breseeg University of Balochistan, Quetta

Introduction

The Sense of Belonging

Shared History

Culture and the Baloch Identity

Globalization and the Baloch Identity

Conclusion

BIBLIOGRAPHY

INTERVIEWS:

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Vizag, the port city is located along the shores of bay of Bengal (India) and headquarters to the eastern navel command of the Indian army/navy. In ancient times this city was ruled by famous kings like Ashoka the great, sri krishna devaraya etc. In 18th century,it was a Dutch colony, where as Vizag is known for its natural beauty and cleanliness. It is surrounded by three hills called venkateswara konda(hill), Ross hill and Dargah konda(hill). The interesting fact here is the three hills represent three different religions hence replicates the unity in diversity of Indian sub contenent .Venkateswara konda is home for venkateswar Temple( the Hindu god), Ross hill houses the Church of Mary and Dargah konda is home to the tomb of a Muslim saint called Baba Ishaq Madina dargah. This fastest growing city of Asia is blessed with a natural harbor and it is one of the largest sea-ports in India. Sea trade is made possible with other countries and continents which boosts to the economy of the nation. The service sector contributes 55percent of total GDP of vizag, 35 percent from industrial sector and 10 percent from agriculture. As this city not only a place for business lovers but also a loved destination for footloose travelers

Araku valley:

It is located at a height of 3200 feet in the midst of hills of anantagiri. It is a beautiful hill station.The pleasent climate,the rainbow creating waterfalls and green landscape offer a memorable escape from the city life for the nature lovers.

Araku valley is home for 19 different tribes. Dhimsa dance is a kind of folk dance to rhythmic beats with colorful costumes is found in this place only. Itika pongal is a popular festival celebrated in this region every year in the month of January second-third week

Accommodation in Araku

Valley resort:

This resort is a yatra nivas ( a tourist lounge) which offers air conditioned suits ,non ac suits and deluxe rooms. It is in the midst of peaceful and well landscaped gardens to relax and proves to be a best holiday spot.

Haritha mayuri:

This resort has a wonderful craft centre which is worth exploring. It has suits, delux rooms with and without AC.

Borra caves:

These are located in the Anantagiri area above 1400 meters above sea level. Borra caves has both religious and historical importance.It is the home of lord Shivalinga idol of kamadenu. This idol is located deep inside the caves. It is believed that these caves are about one Million years old.

Kailasagiri hills:

This is a popular hill station and a popular tourist destination in Vizag city. It offers an inspiring view of bay of bengal and is a home to rushikonda beach. The huge park called Floral watch is one of the worth seeing places, this is is shaped like a watch and is totally covered with grass.

Massive statues of lord Shiva and goddesses Parvati made of white marble are the center of attraction in Kailasagiri. There is a cable car service being provided that allows visitors to access the hill via ropeway and offers stunning view of the city from the cab.

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Ramakrishna beach:

This is known for its pristine sands and Crystal clear waters from the bay of Bengal. The beach is perfect for catching mesmerizing sun raises. This beach is home to the kali temple, vuda park and submarine museum. There is a war memorial called victory at sea,which is dedicated to the memory of the brave soldiers who sacrificed their lives during Indo-pak war in 1971(submarine museum)

Submarine museum:

One of the innovative attractions of the city is the submarine museum. It is located at ramakrishna beach and is inside of a real submarine. Ins Karusura is a Soviet built submarine which was decommissioned on February 28, 2001 after serving for 21 years. The submarine with all its weapons and tools were hauled on the Beach as a museum. This museum is worth seeing gives a different experience.

Dolphin’s nose and the port:

It is a huge rockey headline of hill and is of 174 meters in height. It is located to the southern part of vizag. It is 358 meters above the sea level, which got its name because of its resemblance to a dolphin’s nose. Over this rock formation,there is a huge light house,whose beam can be seen far away out in the sea and about 64 kilometers from land,this is the oldest light house.

Simhachalam:

It is a south indian Hindu temple situated on the hill,which is 800 meters above the sea level and 10 miles to the north of Vizag. According to the Temple’s legend lord Vishnu manifested in this peculiar form with a boar head human and a Lion’s tail, after saving his divotee prahalada from a murder attempt by the latter father Hiranyakashepa ( according to Hindu mythology). Except on akshaya tritiya(a holy day) ,this idol is covered with sandle wood paste which make the idol look like shivalingam.

Ananthagiri:

This place is known for waterfalls, which is 11 kilometers from borra caves between borra and araku.

Matsyadarshini aquarium:

It is a beautiful aquarium with countless species of fresh and salt water marine life captured in glass tanks.

Indiragandhi zoological park:

This is located in kambalkonda reserve forest in vizag. This park offers more than 80 species of mammals, birds and reptiles. The zoo park has divided sections for carnivorous, small mammals, birds and reptiles.

Buddhist excavation:

Havi konda(Hill), totla konda, bojjana konda and salihundam located around were places of budhist excavations.The excavations in 1906 brought out many monuments.

Katiki waterfalls:

It is located 4 kilometers away from borra caves. Gosthana river is the source for this waterfall which falls from a height of 50 feet.

Vuda park:

It has 2500 odd tress spread across 37 acres of land and is rich with greenery. This promotes healthy environment and serves as a children play area , yoga center and many more out door activities.

Red sand hills:

It is a best shooting place for movie makers. The hills are with red soils and are nearer to bay of Bengal. This place is full of dense forest.

Industrial growth:

Vizag has now turned out to be a major industrial center in the entire south India. Many major and minor industries are located here and some big companies from all around the world are in process of establishment of their development centers (manufacturing) here soon. Since it has a natural harbor it promotes international trade which shows its positive ground in industrial sector.

Vizag steel plant:

It is an integrated steel producer in vizag. This company has grown from a loss making industry to a 3 billion dollars turnover company with in a span of 4 years. It was founded in 1971, focused on value added steel,with a turnover of 214000 tonnes produced . Indiragandhi(former PM) laid the foundation stone for the plant. A detailed plan for the plant was prepared in 1980. In 1981 a contract was signed with USSR for preparation of working drawing of coke ovens, blast furnace and sinter plant. In 1982,construction of local township started.This steel plant was separated from SAIL(Steel Authority India Limited) and RINL was made the corporate entity of visakha(Vizag) steel plant in April. Vizag steel plant is the only Indian shore based steel plant and is located on 33000 acres area.

Hindustan shipyard limited:

This shipyard is located in Vizag on the east cost of India. It is a government owned corporation,founded in 1941 and this provides services of ship building, ship repair and submarine. The shipyard is relatively compact at 46.2 hectares. It is equipped with plasma cutting machines, steel processing and welding facilities, cranes, logistics and storage facilities. It has testing and measuring facilities and has a covered building dock for vessels up to 80000DWT. There are three ship ways and a fitting out jetty. HSL has a dry dock ,west basin and repair wing for ship and submarine repair.

Visakhapatnam port:

It is one of the largest cargo handling ports in India. It can handle 150000DWT vessels and draft upto17M. The port during 2013-14 period handled 58 million tonnes of cargo and also a cape size vessel in the outer harbor. The inauguration of the gangavaram port has lead to a significant diversion of traffic away from Vizag port.It has the capacity of accommodating ocean liners of 200000-250000DWT.

Jawaharlal nehru pharma city:

It is a public private partnership between government of AP(Andhra Pradesh-Indian State) and Ramky group. It is the first industrial township in India ,spreading over an extent of 2400 acres with 102 companies.

Minerals and resources:

Vizag and its surrounding areas are rich in mineral deposits of quartzite, bauxite, graphite, manganese, titanium,silica. These minerals are exported through sea to other countries.

Ilminite which is uses for extraction of thorium and monozite used for extraction of thorium are found at bheemunipatnam area of Vizag

Petro corridor:

Vizag holds crude oil reserves with Hindustan petroleum corporation. IOC and BPCL have their bottling units in the city.

Power plant:

Simhadri super thermal power plant is a coal based power plant under the ownership of NTPC limited. Hindujas has begun construction of a 1040mw coal based thermal power plant in vizag.

Education Hub:

There are several schools ,colleges and universities to provide quality education.

Andhra university:

It is a prestigious university. Its motto is “may the divine light illuminate our studies”. This was established in1926 by the Madras university act to serve entire region of Andhra Pradesh. Its founder vice Chancellor was CR Reddy and Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan as the second vice Chancellor. Maharaja(King) of vizayanagaram donated lands for the establishment of University. This is a university campus is 422 acres with 121 buildings for academic and administration with 324 staff quarters. The university contain two sections- south campus and north campus.The south campus is for arts,humanities , science department and administration block.The North block is for engineering college. This university has four constituent colleges.The college of arts and commerce is the biggest constituent with 28 departments offering 55 courses. The college of science and technology has 19 departments and offers 44 different courses. The college of engineering has 16 departments including UG and PG programmes. The law college has been identified as a advanced center in law by University grants commission. The University also has a school of distance education with 32 study centres across the state.The campus has 19 hostels for men and 4 hostels for women. There is accommodation facility for staff available within the campus. There are 340 staff quarters.It also has three health centers.

Government has been providing fee reimbursement to the students who are economically backward towards their studies.

GITAM(gandhi institute if technology and management):

It was established in 1980 and was affiliated to AU . In 2007 it was conferred the status of deemed university. It was the first private engineering institute to receive University status. The main campus spreads over170 acres. Its motto is “Strive Serve Thrive”. The campus has 3 main food canteens ,a multipurpose outdoor ground,indoor facilities for badminton and table tennis and a gym. It also has schools like GITAM institute of technology, institute of science,management, institute of international business, institute of pharmacy, school of law, institute of medical sciences and research, School of nursing,centers for distance learning,school of gandhian studies.

Indian maritime university:

It was previously known as NSDRC . Research at IMU is nurtured through academic programmers run by the department and through sponsored research and consultancy projects funded by national organizations and industry. Its library is regarded as one of the best maritime libraries in India. It aims at developing documents that are useful for faculty, students, ship designers and research scholars. It has a collection of 40000 documents consisting of books and manuals,ship drawing, projects and equipment catalogues.

Damodaram sanjivayya national law univesity:

It was established in 2008.It offers five year BALLB course to eligible students based on common law admission test centralized admission process.Its motto is-“act dharma and thus get victory”.

Indiragandhi national open University:

This was established by an act of parliament in 1985 for an inclusive knowledge society through inclusive education.This university offers 227 academic programs through 67 regional centers .The online admission procedure for these courses usually commence in the month of February.For admissions, candidates are shortlisted for admission bases on the marks obtained in qualifying degree. For some specific courses there may be an entrance examination.For management courses entrance tests are held twice in a year.

Aloysis high school:

It is the oldest school in AP built in 1847 .Besides there are many educational institutes to mould children to the best citizens . They not only concentrate on academics but also on extracurricular activities like sports, dance ,songs.Their first motto is discipline.

Vizag is also known as city of destiny. King of Andhra being mesmerized by the beauty of god visakha and her eternal form, face and skin than he named the city as visakhapatnam. It hosts various culture and rituals within the the city.

Languages:

Due to various employment options through public ,private and government sectors,people from different parts of the country migrate to Vizag. Telugu being the primary language spoken in the city, many people speak Hindi and English as well. Large number of Tamilians, Malyalis, Oriyas, Bengalis settled in Vizag.

People:

Hinduism being the majority followed religion. Islam, Christianity and sikhism are also followed in the city.People respect one another’s religion and actively take part in others’ cultural activities. There is a feel of brotherhood among people here.

Art of dance and music:

Vizag is the center for art. People here give more importance to Karnatak music and dance forms. Kids are accustomed to the dancing and singing as inherited from their households. A great effort is put in learning various classical dances like bharatanatyam and kuchipudi etc. Drama is another value added to the city’s culture. Skits from Mahabarata and Ramayana are showcased to increase moral values among people and to maintain a fear in people’s minds from committing mistakes.

Besides these hilly tribes perform local dance Dhimsa in their local festivals,they play instruments like mori, tumbura and dappu. They wear their traditional costumes with pride.This depicts the culture from the ancient era. Festivals here cant be limited as we explore more festivals and share. As the city is with clean beaches,often beach festivals are organized here from time to time. Different stalls are kept and many people do visit them during evenings and refresh themselves with the view of the beach while enjoying the taste of marine food.

All together why Vizag is the question asked.

The answer is.. it has the power of ample business opportunities , beauty of nature for tourism, vast knowledge generators like the universities and a diversified yet mingling culture and heritage and finally friendly people… so why are you waiting have a visit to the steel city VIZAG and add value to your new business and tourism all at one place

Why Vizag!!! Vizag, the port city is located along the shores of bay of Bengal (India) and headquarters to the eastern navel command of the Indian army/navy.

#business opportunities in vizag #how to settle in vizag #things to do in vizag #what is Vizag #what should i do in vizag

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imaginationsjournal · 7 years

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8-1 | Table of Contents | DOI 10.17742/IMAGE.GDR.8-1.3 | RubinPDF Coming Soon!

[column size=one_half position=first ]Abstract | Communist societies in Eastern Europe have left behind massive prefabricated housing settlements within and outside cities as perhaps their most visible legacy, often assumed to be a negative legacy. Yet this assumption is a superficial judgment, one indicative of a larger trend in the history of Eastern Europe, especially that of East Germany, which only operates within a framework of power and state versus society. What happens when we examine everyday life in socialism without taking as our starting point a search for state power as the goal of the research? Removing this solipsistic framework, we see a different, more balanced picture, not one that necessarily whitewashes or ignores the presence of the state, but one that clearly tells the story of a kind of socialism that was experienced by ordinary people as a tight-knit community rather than a form of top-down control. Such an analysis points the way forward to a reassessment of Eastern European communist society. [/column]

[column size=one_half position=last ]Résumé | Beaucoup des grandes ensembles préfabriqués survivent dans les villes des sociétés communistes. Ils sont l’héritage le plus visible de communisme, lieux de mémoire d’un monde profané. Mais ce jugement est superficiel, et c’est partie d’une tendence plus grande dans l’histoire de l’Europe de l’Est, notamment de l’histoire de RDA. Cette tendence perçoit seulement le système de pouvoir. Je vois l’histoire quotidienne dans les ensembles. Cette perspective révèle une société qui a bon fontionné et commence une révaluation de la socio-histoire des pays communists dans l’Europe de l’Est. [/column]

Eli Rubin | Western Michigan University, Kalamazoo

Beyond Domination: Socialism, Everyday Life in East German Housing Settlements, and New Directions in GDR Historiography

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]f there is one particular type of urban space that is associated with Eastern European communism, it is the massive blocks of prefabricated housing, found both within older cities and on the outskirts of cities from East Berlin to Siberia. Prefabricated, mass-produced apartments, particularly those built in clusters or settlements, were not uniquely Eastern European or socialist. The technology of prefabrication came from the West, and western nations built them in postwar France, Britain, and West Germany, but because they were built to such a massive extent in the socialist Bloc, they were and remain among the most visible, immediate, and phenomenological links to the communist past. Nothing says “this was once a communist land” like seeing the rows of nearly identical housing blocks, sometimes symmetrical, sometimes folded inward as semi-closed polygons, separated by green spaces, rising along the outskirts of cities. From earlier settlements such as Halle-Neustadt in the German Democratic Republic (GDR) built in the 1950s and 1960s to later settlements such as Przymorze in Gdansk and Ujplata in Budapest built in the 1970s and 1980s, this architectural and urban form remains as a spatial and visual element of the communist past that cannot be erased from the phenomenological field of urban space. Long after the statues of Lenin and the giant hammers and sickles have been removed, the outdated and polluted factories either dismantled or completely modernized, and idiosyncratically “Eastern” signs and slogans replaced with western corporate advertising, these apartments remain.

To western visitors, the sight of these prefabricated blocks—called Plattenbau in German, Panelaky in Czech, and Khrushchoyvka in Russian—immediately conjures up negative associations, that is, when visitors from the West see them at all. Most western visitors in Prague, for example, never take the metro line out of the historic district to see the immense housing settlements at the end of the line in Stodulky, nor do visitors to Berlin venture beyond the central historic and trendy districts immediately east and north of the city centre; thus they do not see the massive settlements of Marzahn, Hohenschönhausen, and Lichtenberg. If anything, it is commonplace for westerners to assume that these housing settlements signify the failure of the communist regime; in this, their shared modernist heritage with the ill-fated housing projects of the 1940s to 1960s in the United States further taints them to western eyes. Indeed, many of these housing settlements have suffered after the fall of communism, becoming in some countries ghettos or bastions of right-wing extremism (see Sammartino; Urban, “Tower and Slab”). A symbol of failure might be what these spaces look like to westerners but, as always, there is a wide gap between the surface and the interior. What was life really like in these spaces?

For a long time, scholarship has ignored life within the Plattenbau. The central theorist of what has become known as the “spatial turn,” Henri Lefebvre, dismissed them as “undifferentiated space” (Lefebvre 54). Historians of Eastern Europe, and especially of the GDR, have largely ignored them except to suggest that they were artificial communities created by the state and the party (Palmowski 191). Much of the work done by urban and architectural historians has focused on the prestige or neo-historical projects that took place largely in city centres, such as East Berlin’s Palace of the Republic or Television Tower (Pugh; Urban, “Neohistorical”). This is beginning to change, with a spate of studies on mass-produced housing in communist countries that attends to everyday life within these new apartment blocks.[i] However, much more needs to be done, especially considering that this form of life was so prevalent and defined everyday life in socialism in its final decades.

This essay is based on my attempt to research and write a history of everyday life in the largest East German Plattenbausiedlung (Plattenbau settlement): a vast, mass-produced district on the northeast edge of East Berlin known as Marzahn. This project borrowed from the idea of a Geertzian “thick description” by paying close attention to the habits, experiences, and relationships of ordinary people, and not necessarily leading political or cultural figures. It sought to understand everyday life as it was lived within the space defined by the mass-produced buildings—the Plattenbauten—that came to define East German and Eastern European socialist architecture. In attempting to construct such a thick description, this study employs a wide range of sources. I carried out interviews with former East Germans who lived in Marzahn, read published interviews and memoirs of former Marzahners, often available only locally, and examined printed and archival sources. Originally, I was expecting to find evidence that the ruling SED (Socialist Unity Party) had been able to transform the consciousness of ordinary East Germans by transforming the spaces that defined their everyday lives. In so doing, I was following one of the dominant tropes of GDR historiography over the past two and half decades: I was looking for the traces of what many historians refer to as Herrschaft, loosely translated as “domination” or “soft power,” described below. Instead, what I found was that in Marzahn everyday life was defined by a lived and experienced a kind of socialism that was not a form of domination or Herrschaft, and can perhaps be best described as a mostly self-organized socialism built around the local community that developed in these spaces–what one might call a “communitarian” socialism. In the spaces of Marzahn, people did not live under the yoke of the ruling party. Yet their community could only be described as a form of socialism, one that functioned well. In the case of this qualitative oral history project, I did not use questionnaires or surveys. I met Marzahners, spent time with them in their homes and their familiar spaces, talked with them, listened to them tell the story of their lives and their family histories, looked through their photo albums and documented their prized possessions, furniture, mementos, and read their letters and unpublished novels and poems. Lives are lived in spaces, and spaces intertwine with lives to create topographies of memory. Some of my informants were inclined to view the topographies of their lives in Marzahn through the rose-colored glasses of Ostalgie (a German neologism referring to nostalgia for the bygone days of East Germany). As described below, many of those who moved to Marzahn did so because they were privileged by the system—acquiring an apartment in Marzahn was in certain ways connected to belonging to important state or party institutions and organizations.

Yet even if we allow for some ideological bias in the respondents and archives, the narrative that emerged for me from listening to East Germans recount their lives on their own terms stood in stark contrast to the narrative that surrounds prefabricated, mass-produced communist housing blocs and, more broadly, the narrative of top-down power that has defined the historiography and popular discourse on the GDR. Since the collapse of East Germany in 1989-90, often called the Wende (“turning point”), a focus on studying the power of the state and the ruling Communist party profoundly overshadowed and framed GDR historiography in Germany. Books, dissertations, articles, funded institutional research projects, publication series, museum exhibitions, conference papers, etc. abound with terms like Macht (“power”), Diktatur (“dictatorship”), and Herrschaft, as well as the related terms Widerstand (“resistance”) and Opposition.[ii] Public pressure from well-organized and politically connected former East German dissidents ensured that topics such as the oppression by the secret police (Stasi) and other security organs, the Berlin Wall, and the failed uprising against the party and state on June 17, 1953 have been thoroughly researched and have dominated the historical literature on East Germany.[iii] As a result, numerous research institutes, archives, museums, and subsidized publications have appeared in Germany, all dedicated to the Aufarbeitung (the “working-through”) of the legacy of the GDR, many of which are supported with state funds or other political sources of capital. Many of these, such as the Bundesstiftung zur Aufarbeitung der SED-Diktatur (Federal Foundation for the Working-Through of the SED Dictatorship) and the Bürgerbüro (Citizens’ Office) are led by former dissidents and vehement anti-communists who are fiercely opposed to any interpretation or representation of the GDR that does not centre state repression and its victims and resistors.[iv]

Even German scholars who have conducted more nuanced scholarship and discourse on everyday life in the GDR define their work largely by a need to understand the extent to which the state and the party controlled that everyday life. Specifically, many scholars have made significant use the concept of Herrschaft—a concept introduced by Max Weber and later became associated with Alf Lüdtk—to explain how those who hold power often depend on the consent of those they rule. These analyses of East Germany focus on the more subtle and cultural ways in which the party “dictatorship” exercised “soft power”[v]—the framing for a large number of works done on the GDR in Britain and North America. Many studies in this vein looked, for example, at consumer culture, sports, gender, domesticity, private life, etc.[vi] However, the general purpose was ultimately to uncover the extent of party Herrschaft over East German society. To a degree, the reason that the term Herrschaft became so ubiquitous was its conceptual flexibility—it could accommodate a more nuanced, even Gramscian, or Foucauldian interpretation of power, or it could mean power more generally or colloquially.[vii]

By the early 2000s the scholarship on the GDR, particularly in history, had become so profoundly shaped by the search for Herrschaft that it seemed as if there were no other way to think about studying the GDR. Nearly every study, in both English and German, began with the paradigm of the GDR as a state and party as well as a society, and essentially tried to document the extent of the imposition of the former onto the latter. Most of this scholarship, as valuable as it was, bordered on question-begging, containing much of the conclusion within its premise. It began with the notion that there was a state on the one hand and a society on the other, that there was interpenetration, and ended with the conclusion that, in fact, the state/party penetrated into the society. The only real point of contention in this scholarship was the degree to which that penetration happened and how to characterize it. The focus on “power” from the beginning was self-reinforcing because, as Michel Foucault argues, power, especially in its subtler or more diffuse forms (such as Herrschaft), is everywhere, in every society, and not just dictatorships. That there was Herrschaft in the GDR is not, in the end, what is most important. Instead, I argue that one of the aspects of East German society and everyday life that tends to be de-emphasized in the literature is the reality of socialism itself, as both an ideology and a system of organizing everyday life. That is, the impression emerges from much of the literature that the “socialist” part of East German everyday life was merely epiphenomenal—almost as if it were incidental whether East Germany was socialist, or fascist, or whatever—and that what really matters when studying the GDR is gaining an understanding of how power-in-general works. Yet East Germany was unique not because of Herrschaft but because it was socialist. This was a core of its existence, not an epiphenomenon.

Indeed, the experience of former East Germans highlights this discrepancy between the politics of academic discourse on the GDR and the actual lived experience in the GDR. In interview after interview, East Germans in Marzahn painted the same kind of picture of their life in the Plattenbausiedlung—a new beginning, a progressive community, a major upgrade into the long awaited socialist good life, and most of all, a real and authentic everyday lived experience of socialism—not ideological socialism, not the socialism of the party line, but a true communitarian socialism that worked even where and when the system did not function. They attributed little importance to their belonging to the SED or the presence of that official system, but rather described a lived experience that was, in fact, socialism. Furthermore, what many complained about, and what many East Germans in general have found hardest to understand in the years since 1989, is that their experience in the GDR seems to have been grossly misunderstood by westerners, especially historians.[viii] The narrative below depicts a very different reality than much of the German and English scholarship on the GDR.

The importance of this disconnect goes beyond the milieu of former East Germans. Quite apart from the politics of GDR historiography, there has been a transatlantic explosion of interest in East German everyday life and material culture.[ix] While this interest is perhaps easy to explain away as Ostalgie among former East Germans, it is much harder to understand its transatlantic and international appeal. The well-known GDR Museum located in the heart of the most touristy area of Berlin—just off Unter den Linden, between several museums and monuments—is not large but it is heavily visited, almost exclusively by foreign tourists. Shops selling former East German consumer goods, marketed as “communist kitsch” have appeared in hip, trendy neighbourhoods, especially in Berlin, where many foreigners or young people with no memory or connection to the GDR live. The largest existing museum devoted to the material culture and everyday life culture of East Germany now exists in California. Known as the Wende Museum, it houses an impressive array of objects, visual art, film, clothing, and printed sources (including Margot Honecker’s papers).[x] The Wende Museum has demonstrated that, amazingly, in Los Angeles there is a strong interest in East Germany—the museum’s success has led it to recently move to a new, larger building, and it managed to stage an impressive spectacle (even for Hollywood’s standards) for the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Wall, shutting down Wilshire Boulevard with segments of the Berlin Wall placed across it, the Mayor of Los Angeles and the Governor of California in attendance. Indeed, interest in East German everyday life and material culture is found throughout the world.

One might argue that in a neoliberal era this interest signifies a strong yearning for “something else” (Rubin, “Future,” 2). Indeed, East Germany represented an alternative modernity–not just any alternative, but a distinctively non-capitalist modernity. As such, the suggestion here is that the GDR holds a strange and uncanny fascination for westerners. This is especially true of the younger generation, which is apt to be both attracted to and condescendingly amused by the phenomenological world left behind by a highly developed, modern socialist society. One of the enduring slogans of the Occupy movement is “Another World is Possible.” Among the political left in the United States and throughout the millennial generation, there is a radically new openness to considering alternatives to capitalism itself. This has been made clear by the success of Bernie Sanders—a self-avowed socialist—in nearly gaining the nomination of the Democratic Party, as well as by a recent Harvard study revealing that just over half of all millennials do not support capitalism and one-third support socialism (Ehrenfreund). Yet in the suddenly flourishing discourse to be found, for example, in magazines and blogs such as Jacobin, Dissent, and The Baffler, there is little to no mention of what life was actually like in a modern socialist society that existed in recent memory. Beginning to understand everyday lived socialism on its own termss a first step in filling in the blind spots regarding what “other worlds” are possible and what they actually look like. What follows is an attempt to write a history of everyday life in socialist East Germany beyond Herrschaft.

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Figure 2

Figure 3

In 1982, Gabriele Franik and her husband drove from central East Berlin to the vast Plattenbau construction site in Marzahn, a rural district on the northeast edge of Berlin. They were hoping to see their new apartment in what had become the single largest housing settlement in all of Europe. Eight months pregnant with twins, Gabriele had been on prescribed bed rest, but was so excited to see this new world and the place in it for her and her family that she could not resist. She recalled the experience of entering this completely new world, a world still in the process of becoming: “[My husband] drove and drove. We emerged into a giant construction site: our way was lined with construction cranes. Newly begun Plattenbauten stood everywhere. There were no streets to be seen anywhere. Mountains of sand towered, a gigantic wasteland of mud; nowhere was there a tree, or even a shrub” (Franik, 80). When she got to their apartment, on the second floor of a WBS-70/11 model prefabricated apartment block on Ludwig-Renn-Strasse 43, her enormous stomach making it difficult to walk, the socialist future suddenly became a real, material space:

My heart was in my throat with excitement; my knees shook as I left the car and we walked up to the second floor together, the building still smelling of cement and paint. My husband opened the door to our new apartment and […] a giant empire appeared, with enough room for five family members. Central heating, warm water from the wall, and a six-meter-long balcony! This is what happiness looks like. We fell into each other’s arms, euphorically. (79-80)

The Franiks were among over 400,000 East Germans who would come to live in Marzahn and the connected Plattenbausiedlungen of Lichtenberg, Hohenschönhausen, and Hellersdorf between 1977 and 1990. Marzahn was built as the centerpiece of a larger campaign by the East German state, the Housing Program (Wohnungsbauprogramm), which aimed to build or renovate three million modern dwellings for East Germans by 1990 to eliminate the persistent shortage of adequate housing that had afflicted East Germans, the German working class in general, and Berliners in particular since the 19th century. By the time the GDR collapsed, its Housing Program had built two million apartments and renovated another one million, and almost five million East Germans (28 percent of the population) lived in prefabricated housing settlements such as Marzahn (Rubin, Amnesiopolis 29-31). Most of these—650 to be exact—were built on the outskirts of cities, ranging from a few thousand residents to 90,000 residents; examples include the Fritz-Heckert settlement outside Karl-Marx-City, the Grünau settlement outside Leipzig, and the Nordwest settlement outside Rostock (Rubin, Amnesiopolis 160-63).

These settlements were mostly identical apartment blocks, repeated in rows in varying patterns, which were constructed using prefabricated, steel-reinforced concrete panels assembled on site by three-shift assembly lines of workers. However, they were not intended by the East German state and its ruling party to be mere housing. The Housing Program was itself the central pillar of the most important legacy of East German leader Erich Honecker’s regime, which lasted from 1971 until 1989, officially called the “Unity of Economic and Social Policy.” Often referred to in shorthand as “real existing socialism,” it was a massive effort to bring the “good life” to socialist citizens (see Steiner; Bouvier). Until Honecker took power in 1971 from aging leader Walter Ulbricht, life in socialist East Germany had mostly consisted of promises of a deferred utopia. “As we work today, so we will live tomorrow” was a favorite slogan of the party in the 1950s and 1960s (Merkel 121). While the regime focused on building up its heavy industry, collectivizing farms, and investing in prestige projects such as Alexanderplatz, the TV tower, and the Palace of the Republic in East Berlin, it ignored the needs of ordinary citizens in the realm of consumer goods and social needs such as childcare, infrastructure, and, above all, housing.

As of 1971 most East Germans lived in dwellings that were inadequate, with two-thirds built before 1918 and the majority of those from the 1860s, 1870s, and 1880s. One-third had no running water, which increased to two-thirds in smaller towns; only one-third had an indoor toilet. In Berlin the problem was especially acute; since the rapid expansion of Berlin after the unification of Germany after 1871, it had become infamous for its slum apartments, called “rental barracks,” which were cramped, dark, and expensive. Tens of thousands could find no affordable housing at all, instead living on the streets and in shantytowns outside the city. Because of economic depression, the war, and the low priority of housing policy during the 1950s and 1960s, East Berlin continued to resemble the “misery quarters” of the 19th century. In other words, in terms of lived everyday experience, little had changed for workers, even though the GDR was supposed to be the “Workers’ and Peasants’ State.” Yet by the 1970s a new generation was coming of age, born after the war, hoping to start a new life and yet unable to find adequate housing, making inadequate and unavailable housing by far the leading topic of citizen Eingaben (complaint letters) addressed to the government. By 1970, the state estimated that 90,000 people in East Berlin were unable to find housing at all, often young married couples still sharing a small living space with their families (Peters and Seifert 17). Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev first called for his Soviet comrades—and the leadership of other communist nations—to pay attention to the completely inadequate housing in communist countries, especially in light of the postwar boom of mostly suburban housing in the US and various modern housing developments in Western European cities, such as the Villes Nouvelles (“new towns”) in France, the “New Towns” in Britain, and prefabricated housing settlements in West Germany such as Gropiusstadt, Märkisches Viertel, or Neu Perlach. Specifically, he wanted communist nations to build housing “better, cheaper, and faster” (Khrushchev), leading to a boom in prefabricated housing settlements across the Soviet Bloc, from Nizhny Novgorod in the USSR to New Belgrade in Yugoslavia, Nowa Huta outside Krakow, or Ujplata outside Budapest.

Yet the problem facing the GDR was not simply that citizens lived in inadequate circumstances while the promise of a socialist utopia had raised their expectations; it was that the history of capitalism—and fascism, as the rise of Nazism had played out in these streets—was inscribed into the very physical spaces that made up these old neighborhoods. They were, literally, the product of capitalist logic—East German officials even referred to the old slum neighborhoods as “the capitalist legacy” (das kapitalistische Erbe). They could be renovated, but because they were built to cram in as many residents as possible, the only way to make them conform to a baseline of adequacy and modernity—an Existenzminimum—would be to reduce the total available living units in order to increase the average living space within each unit. This meant that the housing crisis was built into the city structures by the system that built the city—capitalism. To solve the housing crisis, and thus to finally break free of the capitalist legacy, socialism would have to build a new physical space, not just new housing but a new city, from scratch. The plan for Marzahn, developed in 1974-75 at the behest of the SED’s Politburo, under the leadership of Günter Mittag,[xi] was not only to build housing but to build an entire, self-contained city, with every conceivable need in life mapped out, rationally, in advance: not only apartments, but schools, shopping centers, athletic and recreation facilities, communal spaces, health clinics, public transportation, etc. These guidelines were enshrined into East German law a year later in 1976 (Gesetzblatt Sonderdruck 195).

The plan for Marzahn was to create an entirely new socialist city, a monument to “real existing socialism” in concrete. The plan borrowed heavily from modernist urban planning concepts—especially those of Le Corbusier—that emphasized apartment towers separated by large swaths of green space and oriented to allow maximum sunlight and fresh air for residents while also reducing the intermixing of pedestrian and automobile traffic. No school or nursery/preschool (called Kindergarten-Kinderkrippekombinat or “KiKo”), health clinic, sports/recreation center, or public transit stop could be more than 600 metres from any residence. The new town contained fourteen large and thirteen small school gymnasiums (Schulturnhallen) and eleven school sports facilities, which included tracks, soccer fields, volleyball areas, and smaller athletic fields. Another eleven sports recreation facilities were to be built for adults. One of these was to be a central stadium with 5,000 seats. Other planned social facilities included a home for troubled youths (Heim für Jugendhilfe), which also had to be no more than 600 metres from a polytechnic high school (Magistrat Berlin 30-32); three pharmacies; up to nine retirement homes/hospices, each seven stories (Peters 107); a central supply depot for gardeners; a music school with a rehearsal studio; an open-air theatre with enough capacity to hold large festivals, including the appropriate facilities for food and drink; and a youth hostel (Magistrat Berlin 30-33). Later, the Politburo mandated that four churches (Catholic and Lutheran) be added to the plan, all from prefabricated concrete, with a starkly modern and minimalist design (Bezirksmuseum Marzahn 126-30). Each district had restaurants, milk bars, cafes, dance halls, pubs, service shops (Dienstleistungen, denoting repairs, auto mechanics, etc.), a cinema, a public swimming pool and sauna, and so on. There were even plans to make a bobsled run (Rödelbahn) and bunny ski hill out of the artificial mountains created by the enormous amount of earth—two million cubic metres (Peters 103)—displaced by the construction of this entirely new city (“Vorflut Kanal” 2-3). There were also senior living centers, youth hostels, and a youth group home. In short, it was what planners described as a heile Welt—a holistically planned and self-contained world. On paper, Marzahn looked like the Utopia that socialism had longed promised. It was also a world fully detached from the old spaces defined by the bygone fascist and capitalist eras, at least in terms of how it appeared to the senses.

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Figure 4

However, once people began to inhabit this new space, it was no longer just a blueprint or a space, but rather a “socio-spatial dialectic” (Soja 76-94). The crucial point is not just what Marzahn looked like, but what life was actually like there. For many, it was obviously a significant material upgrade in living standards, which remained little better than they had been in the 19th century. This was true, for example, for Elisabeth Albrecht, a librarian who lived in a crumbling and damp one-room apartment in Berlin’s old tenement district of Friedrichshain, where the ventilation was so bad she and her nine-year-old son Steffen suffered from high levels of carbon monoxide fumes, a situation so common in East Berlin it was known to many simply as “Berlin conditions” (Marin 81). For Albrecht, moving to a two-bedroom, fully modern apartment in a WBS 70/11 block with a ninth floor, gorgeous view of the Brandenburg plains stretching out to the east was obviously a significant upgrade. It was also the case for Barbara Diehl, who lived in a cramped and dark one-room “rental barrack” apartment in Friedrichshain with her husband Rolf and young son Dieter, with no warm water or heating. For them, moving to a three-bedroom apartment in 1980 on the Allee der Kosmonauten (“Cosmonaut Street”), in time for their second son, Sebastian, to be born was a serious upgrade in material living standards (Diehl), as it was for almost everyone who moved to Marzahn.

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Figure 5

The move meant a new beginning for themselves and their families. For Diehl, it meant being able to have a marriage again—Dieter and Sebastian could have their own rooms and she and her husband some privacy. Not only that, but Dieter, who had had problems making friends and being ostracized at his old school in Friedrichshain, seemed to be more accepted in his new school, where none of the kids knew each other previously and his mother could see his school yard from her balcony, watching him slowly begin to make friends during outdoor recess (Diehl). Albrecht, like other residents, helped plant trees along the outside of her building, and for her both the new tree she planted and the new apartment she and her son now occupied, represented literally and figuratively putting down new roots in new soil. She even learned to measure the passage of time in terms of both the tree—as it reached close to her balcony—and her growing son, who graduated from high school and moved away: “but in the meantime, the poplar that I planted during those days [when he was a child] has reached all the way to me, almost growing into my window. It is now 21 years old” (36).

The move to Marzahn also meant a chance to create a new community. Most buildings in Marzahn and in the GDR had a communal building association (Hausgemeinschaft, HG), usually run by a five-person leadership committee (Hausgemeinschaftsleitung, HGL) elected by the building residents. Marzahners recall their HGLs as having organized a good deal of the buildings’ social life: summer parties outside on the greenways with grills and beer (Wormbs 18); Carnival (Fasching) parties every February in the communal rooms included in the WBS 70 buildings (Wormbs 18); festivals on International Children’s Day (Albrecht 38); and Advent celebrations for the senior citizens (Weber 41). Namensgebung and Jugendweihe—secular ceremonies intended to replace baptism and confirmation, respectively, widespread in the earlier working-class left-wing milieu and commonplace in the GDR—were frequent occasions (Wohnbezirksausschüss 103-4), as Marzahn had the highest concentration of children of any other single district in the entire country (Niederländer 2). So too were coming home ceremonies for young men completing their mandatory military service (Ladwig 78) or charity events coordinated with quasi-state charitable organizations such as the Volkssolidarität (Bezirksmuseum Marzahn 121) and the Society for German-Soviet Friendship. Sometimes, the HGL would throw parties just for fun and everyone was invited, even those who had been shirking their volunteer commitments, as Jasper Oelze recalled: “The vibe was great, and we had lots of fun” at these events (Bezirksmuseum Marzahn 121). Jutta and Joachim Kretzschmar agreed: “When it came to communal festivals, it didn’t matter if you had helped clean the stairwell or not, every doorbell was rung. There were a few people who organized it all […] we had a cook in the building, as well as the director of the shopping mart, and that was reason enough to throw a party” (Verein Kids & Co. 54). Karin Hinkel remembered the residents of the twentieth floor where she lived having spontaneous parties:

Overall, we partied a lot. Never planned it, just did it. We’d meet up in the hallway on the twentieth floor, and that’s how it would start. Everyone brought a chair, and with the kids we’d do something for Carnival (Fasching), or we’d organize dance parties for the older kids (jugendliche Diskos). Or, right in front on the greenway, there would be kids’ parties, sometimes in conjunction with the school nearby. And there would be a lot of baked treats. There was a real sense of togetherness and sociability (geselliges Zusammensein) in the building. (Bezirksmuseum Marzahn 121)

The HGL also was the main conduit for larger programs, such as Mach Mit! (“Join In!”). This nationwide program, run by the National Front, encouraged residents to beautify and landscape their buildings’ communal areas and neighborhoods. This work was part of the 25 annual hours of communal service (volkswirtschaftliche Masseninitiativen—VMI) required of all East Germans (Betts 145). In Marzahn, residents participated in Mach Mit! by helping to landscape the grounds around their buildings, which were mostly still mud and dirt churned up and packed down by the tens of thousands of construction workers who had just recently moved on to the next building in the row. For many Marzahners, participating in Mach Mit! was one of their foundational experiences of moving to the Plattenbau. Torsten Preußing recalled that one of his earliest memories of moving into Marzahn was seeing a placard posted by his building’s communal association in the lobby: “Tomorrow topsoil is coming. All men outside, with shovels in hand!” “It worked,” Preußing remembered. “We stood there [the next day], and we spread out the topsoil. And we designed the garden in front of our building ourselves. It was a time which can be described with a phrase that was often thrown around back then: ‘From ‘I’ to ‘we’” (17-18). Klaus Hölgermann recalled the Mach Mit! days as a kind of foundational myth, with honest labour yielding a well-deserved reward:

The residents were ready to join in. One didn’t need a lot of convincing. The tasks were organized here, in the building. On this or that day, for example in May, it would be announced: “In fourteen days we’re getting bushes and trees delivered. You are to see to it that they are planted.” And it worked. We got started at eight in the morning, and we worked straight through to 11:30am. And when we finished something, we went and grabbed a case of seltzer, or two, and also perhaps a crate of beer. It was all work, sweat, and beer! (Bezirksmuseum Marzahn 119)

Through these shared experiences, residents of the Plattenbausiedlung experienced a strong sense of communal trust and community. Ingeborg Hämmerling described her memory of the community in Marzahn:

The renters were blue-collar and white-collar workers, and intellectuals, although these intellectuals had come originally from the working class, taking advantage of the many educational opportunities they had, as I had in earning my degree in economics. So, there was no division into social classes. And we residents took over responsibility for maintaining the building and the landscaping, and for upholding order and security in the building, including observing the fire code. […] With us, the professor lived next to the cleaning woman, and we all used the informal form of address (Du). […]

The residents absolutely supported their duty to take care of the living area. We maintained the apartment, the building, the landscaping in the front, and we made sure all the kids in the building were respectful of the property. Because all the residents were employed, including women and young adults, the communities in these buildings were not environments where petty criminality, drug addiction, vandalism, or a seedy atmosphere could take root. Outside of a few cellar break-ins, I don’t recall any criminality at all. (3)

This was not just a case of viewing the past with rose-coloured glasses. In the 1980s, Loni Niederländer of the Humboldt University’s Institute for Marxist-Leninist Sociology found that most families in Marzahn had close relationships with between three and five other families, with only 14 percent of the residents having no close relationships with any other residents. Two-thirds of the residents reported that they would leave their key with at least one neighbor, and in the five-story WBS buildings the atmosphere was even more trusting—95 percent reported they trusted their neighbors enough to leave a key with them (28). Marzahners, like East Germans in general, tend to feel that this sense of communalism and collective trust has been severely eroded since 1989. As Marzahner Wilfried Klenner put it, “this us-feeling is gone today. Now, there are borders, which didn’t used to be there” (38).

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Figure 6

It was true that these Marzahners lived within an environment that had definite traces of the influence of the state’s security policies and forces. For one, there were a number of families in which one or both parents worked either for the armed forces, the SED, the police, or the Stasi (though there was a separate Plattenbausiedlung a little further to the west, in Lichtenberg, where most Stasi families were settled). One of the amenities of the new WBS 70 buildings was a central antenna, with a control box in the basement making it difficult to receive West German TV signals (Ministerium für Staatssicherheit, Gemeinschaftsantennenanlagen 1); in any event, the tall concrete buildings often interfered with the airborne signals (Domnitz 42). The Stasi had an interest in Marzahn, in part because there were so many well-connected people there (and thus people with access to sensitive information, for example) but they were especially interested in learning how prefabricated buildings were built so as to maximize their ability to observe residents (Ministerium für Staatssicherheit, Dokumentation; Rubin, Amnesiopolis 139-45).

These were undeniable facets of life in the GDR. Yet the reality of life in this new socialist city presented a paradox of sorts. On the one hand, residents built a close-knit community based in almost every conceivable way on socialist principles, or at least a kind of socialist communalism. There was a strong sense of trust, social cohesion, and a collective and egalitarian identity. Marzahners, and East Germans in general, were joiners—they frequently belonged to organizations, whether the state labor union (FDGB), Volkssolidarität (“Peoples’ Solidarity,” a state-supported national charity organization), the National Front’s local committees, HGLs, parent committees (Elternaktiven), committees or “brigades” at their workplaces, and so on. In many ways, these conformed to the ideology of the state, for example, the widespread adoption of Jugendweihe instead of Christian confirmation.

On the other hand, most Marzahners seemed to have little allegiance to the higher organs of the state. Many were SED party members and showed little hesitation to admit this membership, or even the fact that they were truly committed ideologically. Yet when it came to the memories that shaped the narratives of their lives in Marzahn, interaction with the national SED played little role. Although many of them participated in communal activities supported by the state—many of the HGs received their budget from the National Front—they did not particularly dwell on that relationship. For example, those buildings that did the best Mach Mit! work were awarded a cash prize and an official plaque, the “Golden House Number,” which was could be affixed to the front of the building entrance; many winning buildings took only the cash and discarded the plaque, as Wilfried Klenner recalls (37). Similarly, according to Niederländer’s study, 72 percent of Marzahners had no idea who their National Front Volkskammer representative was, and 50 percent responded that whoever they were, they were totally useless. At the same time, a large majority of Marzahners had a strong interest in the activities of the communal association, with 84 percent reporting interest in helping with celebrations and festivals and 67 percent reporting interest in helping with VMI labour (such as Mach Mit!) (Niederländer 27).

If we approach this history in search of how power or Herrschaft functioned, we do indeed find ample cases of power. After all, the initial impetus for my research in Marzahn was to examine how spaces created by the state were used to subtly control citizens. Nostalgia presents an undeniable bias for some former East Germans who contrast the present unfavorably with the past. Yet there is substantial bias the other way, in terms of the overall framing of GDR research that precedes the formulation of research questions and problematics. Trying to understand any historical era or experience on its own terms is also highly fraught and problematic. Indeed, historians over a century ago saw their task as understanding the past wie es eigentlich gewesen ist (as it actually was)—an uncritical acceptance of objectivity, scientific thought, and positivism that over 30 years of poststructuralist critique has deconstructed. This essay is not suggesting a return to uncritical positivism in researching the GDR. Instead it is suggesting an attention to the gaps and contradictions between the memories and experiences of historical subjects and the discourses of historians and their institutions and texts. It is especially arguing for a critical reflection on the political and meta-historiographical dynamics and conditions that created these gaps. Doing so can open up new spaces for new questions and new debates. Above all, we should move away from an endless and tautological search for Herrschaft in studying the GDR.

What would moving away from search for state power in everyday life entail? This essay has suggested that such a shift might begin with taking the functioning of socialism in everyday life on its own terms, rather than a reflection of some kind of power dynamic. Perhaps in a political-economic climate in which alternatives to neoliberal capitalism are actively being discussed, in which there is a real yearning for a nebulous “other world,” the lived experience of socialism in East German Plattenbausiedlungen can help fill in what that alternative might look like. Furthermore, perhaps moving away from Herrschaft and into a study of East German socialism as a form of everyday life on its own terms may lead to other directions of research. Until we leave behind the tendency to weigh every facet of life in East Germany on the scale of Herrschaft, we will not be able to open up spaces for new questions and debates.

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Image Notes

Cover Image (Fig. 1): Children in Marzahn. Courtesy Bezirksmuseum Marzahn-Hellersdorf, e.V. Fig. 2: Map of Berlin-Marzahn. Courtesy of Jason Glatz, Western Michigan University Mapping Services. Fig. 3: Sebastian and Daniel Diehl in front of their new WBS 70 building, Allee der Kosmonauten, Marzahn, 1984. Courtesy of Barbara Diehl. Fig. 4. View from the Diehls new apartment, Allee der Kosmonauten, 1983. Courtesy of Barbara Diehl. Fig. 5: Marquardt family on first day of school, 1982, Marzahn. Courtesy of Evelyn Marquardt. Fig. 6. WBS 70 buildings in Marzahn, 1984. Courtesy of Bezirksmuseum Marzahn-Hellersdorf, e.V.

Endnotes

[i] In addition to works already mentioned, see also: on the USSR, Mark Smith, Property of Communists: The Urban Housing Program from Stalin to Khruschev (Northern Illinois UP, 2010), Steven Harris, Communism on Tomorrow Street: Mass Housing and Everyday Life After Stalin (Johns Hopkins UP, 2013), and Christine Vargas-Harris, Stories of House and Home: Soviet Apartment Life during the Khrushchev Years (Ithaca, NY: Cornell UP, 2015); on Poland, Katherine Lebow, Unfinished Utopia: Nowa Huta, Stalinism and Polish Society, 1949-56 (Cornell UP, 2013); on Hungary (as well as East Germany), Virág Molnár, Building the State: Architecture, Politics and State Formation in Postwar Central Europe (Routledge, 2013); on Yugoslavia, Brigitte Le Normand, Designing Tito’s Capital: Urban Planning, Modernism and Socialism in Belgrade (U of Pittsburgh P, 2014).

[ii] For a small sampling, see: Lothar Mertens, editor, Unter dem Deckel der Diktatur: Soziale und kulturelle Aspekte des DDR-Alltags (Duncker & Humblot, 2003); Ulrich Weissgerber, Giftige Worte der SED-Diktatur: Sprache als Instrument von Machtausübung und Ausgrenzung in der SBZ und der DDR (Lit, 2010); Dorothea and Michael Parak, editors, Opfer und Täter der SED-Herrschaft: Lebenswege in einer Diktatur (Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, 2005); Gary Bruce, Resistance with the People: Repression and Resistance in Eastern Germany, 1945-1955 (Rowman & Littlefield, 2003); on dictatorship, Rubin, Synthetic Socialism: Plastics and Dictatorship in the German Democratic Republic (U of North Carolina P, 2008); Corey Ross, The East German Dictatorship: Problems and Perspectives in the Interpretation of the GDR (Arnold, 2002); Mary Fulbrook, editor, Power and Society in the GDR, 1961-1979: The ‘Normalisation of Rule’? (Berghahn, 2009).

[iii] A catalogue search in Germany will turn up more than 150 titles on the 1953 uprising alone, with hundreds more studies to be found in other places. A small sampling: Roger Engelmann and Ilko-Sascha Kowalczuk, editors, Volkserhebung gegen den SED-Staat: Eine Bestandsaufnahme zum 17. Juni 1953 (Ch. Links, 1996); Kowalczuk, 17. Juni 1953, Volksaufstand in der DDR: Ursachen, Abläufe, Folgen (Timmermann, 2003); Hubertus Knabe, 17. Juni 1953: ein deutscher Aufstand (Propyläen, 2003).

[iv] A good introduction to this topic is Martin Sabrow et. al., editors, Wohin treibt die DDR-Erinnerung? Dokumentation einer Debatte (Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007). This publication is a documentation of the “Sabrow Commission,” tasked in 2005-06 by the federal government with reporting on and creating recommendations for how best to fund and manage the official memory of the GDR. It caused a firestorm of controversy for recommending that more attention be paid to the everyday life history of ordinary East Germans along with the continued spotlight on the repression and dictatorial nature of the GDR. For examples of those vehemently opposed to any nuanced consideration of everyday life in the GDR, see Hubertus Knabe, Die Täter sind unter uns: Über das Schönreden der SED-Diktatur (Propyläen, 2007); Manfred Agethen, Eckhard Jesse, and Ehrhart Neubert, editors, Der missbrauchte Antifaschismus: DDR-Staatsdoktrin und Lebenslüge der deutschen Linken (Herder, 2002); Vera Lengsfeld, “Das DDR-Bild der westlichen Linken: Eine Polemik,” Ostalgie International: Erinnerungen an die DDR von Nicaragua bis Vietnam, edited by Thomas Kunze and Thomas Vogel (Ch. Links, 2010), pp. 211-19.

[v] For example, see Thomas Lindenberger, editor, Herrschaft und Eigen-Sinn in der Diktatur: Studien zur Gesellschaftsgeschichte der DDR (Böhlau, 1999), especially his introduction entitled “Diktatur der Grenzen”; for a more recent work, see “SED-Herrschaft als soziale Praxis, Herrschaft und ‘Eigen-Sinn:’ Problemstellung und Begriffe,” Staatssicherheit und Gesellschaft: Studien zum Herrschaftsalltag der DDR, edited by Jens Gieseke (Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007), pp. 23-47, and his Volkspolizei, Herrschaftspraxis und öffentliche Ordnung im SED-Staat 1952-1968 (Böhlau, 2003). For a small sampling of works with Herrschaft as their primary framing, see Martin Sabrow, Geschichte als Herrschaftsdiskurs (Böhlau, 1999); Stefan Wolle, Die Heile Welt der Diktatur: Alltag und Herrschaft in der DDR 1971-1989 (Ch. Links, 1998); Alf Lüdtke and Peter Becker, editors, Akten. Eingaben. Schaufenster. Die DDR und ihre Texte. Erkundungen zu Herrschaft und Alltag (Akademie, 1997); Patrice Poutrus, Die Erfindung des Goldbroilers: Über den Zusammenhang zwischen Herrschaftssicherung und Konsumentwicklung in der DDR (Böhlau, 2002); Heiner Timmermann, editor, Das war die DDR: DDR-Forschung im Fadenkreuz von Herrschaft, Aussenbeziehungen, Kultur und Souveränität (Lit, 2004). On the earlier work done by Lüdtke on Herrschaft, see Lüdtke’s introduction to his edited volume Herrschaft als soziale Praxis (Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991) and his introduction to his edited volume “Sicherheit” und “Wohlfahrt”: Polizei, Gesellschaft und Herrschaft im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Suhrkamp, 1992).

[vi] Some examples: Andreas Ludwig, editor, Fortschritt, Norm und Eigensinn: Erkundungen im Alltag der DDR (Ch. Links, 1999); Ludwig with Katja Böhme, editors, Alles aus Plaste. Versprechen und Gebrauch in der DDR (Böhlau, 2012); Dorothee Wierling, Geboren im Jahr Eins: Der Jahrgang 1949 in der DDR: Versuch einer Kollektivbiographie (Ch. Links, 2002); Donna Harsch, Revenge of the Domestic: Women, the Family, and Communism in the German Democratic Republic (Princeton UP, 2006); Sandrine Kott, Communism Day to Day: State Enterprises in East German Society, translated by Lisa Godin-Roger (U of Michigan P, 2014); Josie McClellan, Love in the Time of Communism: Intimacy and Sexuality in the GDR (Cambridge UP, 2011); Heather Gumbert, Envisioning Socialism: Television and the Cold War in the German Democratic Republic (U of Michigan P, 2014); Scott Moranda, The People’s Own Landscape: Nature, Tourism and Dictatorship in East Germany (U of Michigan P, 2013); Monika Sigmund, Genuss als Politikum. Kaffeekonsum in beiden deutschen Staaten (De Gruyter Oldenbourg, 2014); Judd Stitziel, Fashioning Socialism: Clothing, Politics and Consumer Culture in East Germany (Berg, 2005).

[vii] This ability of the term Herrschaft to encompass different viewpoints became clear early in the development of GDR historiography. See Lüdtke, “‘Helden der Arbeit’—Mühen beim Arbeiten. Zur mißmutigen Loyalität von Industriearbeitern in der DDR,” Sozialgeschichte der DDR, edited by Hartmut Kaelble, Jürgen Kocka, and Hartmut Zwahr (Stuttgart, 1994), pp. 188-216, as well as Kocka’s contribution to that volume, “Eine durchherrschte Gesellschaft,” pp. 547-54. Both of these are among the most cited and referenced essays in the field of GDR history, although they represent different viewpoints.

[viii] Lutz Niethammer (who pioneered the field of everyday life history and oral history and was one of the few western historians to be allowed to work in East Germany before 1989) also makes this point in an interview with the tageszeitung, May 12, 2006, cited here in Sabrow, Wohin treibt die DDR-Erinnerung, 208-9 [see note 4].

[ix] There has been important scholarship done on this phenomenon of official and unofficial memory of GDR everyday life, more so in English than in German. In English see Jonathan Bach, “Collecting Communism: Private Museums of Everyday Life under Socialism in the Former East Germany,” German Politics and Society 114, vol. 33 no. 1-2, Spring/Summer 2015, pp. 135-45, and Bach, What Remains: Everyday Encounters with the Socialist Past in Germany (Columbia UP, forthcoming 2017); in German see Thalia Gigerenzer, Gedächtnislabore: Wie Heimatmuseen in Ostdeutschland an die DDR erinnern, translated by Christa Krüger (Be.Bra, 2013).

[x] See www.wendemuseum.org and its recent major publication: Justinian Jampol, editor, Jenseits der Mauer / Beyond the Wall (Taschen, 2014).

[xi] Mittag’s role was extensive in creating the Housing Program and specifically the Marzahn project. See Bundesarchiv (BArch) Stiftung Archiv Parteien und Massenorganisationen (SAPMO) DY 2838 (Büro Günter Mittag), “Wohnungsbau in Berlin, Bd 4, 1972-73,” pp. 345-47, “Entwicklung des komplexen Wohnungsbaues in der Hauptstadt der DDR, Berlin, für die Jahre 1976-1980.”

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Beyond Domination 8-1 | Table of Contents | DOI 10.17742/IMAGE.GDR.8-1.3 | RubinPDF Coming Soon! Abstract | Communist societies in Eastern Europe have left behind massive prefabricated housing settlements within and outside cities as perhaps their most visible legacy, often assumed to be a negative legacy.

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