Edda Schönherz

Born in 1944 in Berlin. Edda Schönherz was a popular TV anchorwoman in the GDR. Her personal opinions often ran contrary to mainstream social and political views in the country. As a journalist, she increasingly felt the need to work freely and without censorship. After enquiring about the possibility of defecting to the West, She was arrested in 1974. Two years after her release, she and her two children were allowed to move to Munich, where she again worked in television.

Why were you arrested?

In August 1974, during a holiday trip to Hungary with my two children, Annette (12) and René (11), I visited a western embassy to find out about the possibility of defecting to the West. I couldn’t enter an embassy in East Germany. I would have been arrested on the spot. I more or less provoked the situation because I thought: “Honecker has signed the Helsinki Accords. Now he has to show that he respects human rights.” Of course, in the back of my mind, I realized that the GDR would try to put a spoke in my wheels, and that’s what happened. All of the embassies were bugged and under surveillance. Just to be on the safe side, before the trip, I had contacted some people who I knew that I could trust, for example, a relative of mine in the Bavarian parliament. I said, if anything goes wrong and I disappear into thin air, you’ll know what happened to me. I told as few people as possible about my plans. I even told my children as little as possible. In December, I was convicted of “establishing subversive contacts” and “preparing to make an illegal border crossing in the first degree”.

Could you tell us how you were arrested?

I was briefly arrested in Hungary. Back in the GDR, the Stasi was already well informed. In Hungary, I was told: “For humanitarian reasons, we have told GDR officials nothing of what has transpired here. You have nothing to fear when you return.” But that was a farce. When I returned to East Berlin, it was clear to me that we were under constant surveillance. Back at the TV network, I was told that all my shifts had been cancelled. A week later, early one morning, there were 12 Stasi officials standing in front of my bed. “Come with us to clear up a matter.” They took me to the district of Lichtenberg, to the Ministry for State Security (the Stasi). I have a very clear recollection of my first interrogator. I remember his cynicism: “Mrs. Schönherz, there are two ways out of here. The door behind you, where you can go out and return to your children, or the door over there that takes you in even deeper.” And I said: “Listen, I know exactly which door you’ve chosen for me. And since I’m here and haven’t yet applied for an exit permit for me and my children, then I’ll do that right here and now. Now go ahead and ask me your questions.” Then they questioned me non-stop for almost 24 hours. After a short night, they continued. I was then taken to a judge for the pre-trial hearing. I’ve forgotten all the things that they charged me with. Ridiculous stuff. I thought it was all a big farce.

From that day on, I said to myself: “You have to get through this. You have to get this over with as quickly as possible.” Afterwards, I was taken to the main Stasi jail in the district of Hohenschönhausen. But I didn’t know that at the time. From that day on, I never knew where I was. After we left the Stasi ministry in Normannenstrasse, we drove around for two and a half to three hours. You could end up anywhere after three hours. I had no idea where they had taken me.

Were your children at home during your arrest?

Yes. The Stasi had everything under surveillance. They knew exactly when the children went to school. The entire house was bugged, so they didn’t have to ring the doorbell.

Were you in a relationship with someone at the time?

I had a boyfriend. He was a director at the TV network. He was also arrested. We both spent three years in jail. He was also in Hungary and also wanted to defect to the West.

Were you informed of what happened to your children?

No. My boyfriend’s parents were visiting us when we were arrested. They took care of the children. So in the beginning, I knew that someone was looking after them. My children didn’t have to be sent away to an institution and I wasn’t forced to put them up for adoption. In my case, I think the Stasi didn’t dare to do this because I was a celebrity. The press soon started asking questions: “Where is Edda Schönherz, the star East German TV presenter?” They responded: “She’s ill. She’s just taking some time off.” It wasn’t until half a year later, after I was sent to the Hoheneck women’s prison, that I was 100-percent certain where my children were.

What went through your head when you were taken to Hohenschönhausen?

Of course you have a thousand thoughts running through your head: “Where are they taking me? What do they want from me? How long will this take? What about the children? Is everything all right? Do people on the outside know what’s going on? Will they get me a lawyer?” And so on.

How long were you detained?

Since I was a well-known TV personality, they left my children alone. On the other hand, they wanted to make an example of me. I had to spend three full years behind bars. I served my sentence right up to the very last day, and that was rather unusual. Many other detainees were released after only a few months and allowed to leave the country once West Germany had bought their freedom. My relative in Munich would have paid for my release, but the GDR refused to let me go.

How often were you questioned?

That’s hard to say because it was so sporadic. But that was of course the tactic used by the Stasi. You were not allowed to have a daily routine. They would leave you for weeks in your cell, and nothing happened. And believe me, after you’ve been left alone in a cell for that long, you actually long for them to question you again. It may sound strange, but the isolation breaks you down, wears you out. You can’t do anything. You just stand around, lost in your own thoughts.

How did the Stasi put pressure on you?

The Stasi knew what they were doing when it came to psychological torture. For starters, I was kept totally in the dark about what was happening. I had no idea where my children were, how long the investigation would last, or even where I was being held. The isolation felt like torture. They humiliated me. I was forced to strip. They made it perfectly clear who was in charge and who was powerless. They used the “carrot and the stick” method during questioning. One day, they would insult you. The next day, they would be friendly again. The idea was to break down individuals by playing people against each other. My interrogator would say: “Oh, by the way, your boyfriend says hello. He asked me to tell you that he’s ending the relationship. He’s found another girlfriend. You can’t hold that against him. Think about how long you’ve been in here.” You start to second-guess things. Is it true or not? Suddenly, you can’t clearly differentiate between what you know and what you don’t know because you’ve been isolated for so long. The only person you ever see and talk with is your interrogator. Everyone else has ceased to exist. It makes you ill. I almost lost my mind.

What was your worst experience?

That’s hard to say. Having to undress in front of a woman in uniform, having to stand there naked, and then having to place my tampons and pads on the table. That was a shock. She examined it all and took everything apart. Then, wearing a glove, she examined every orifice on my body. At that moment, I suffered a severe shock. I had no influence on my reaction. It was all in my subconscious.

From that minute onwards I stopped menstruating. I only had my period again the day after I was released from prison, roughly three years later. My body simply refused, it was too much. I didn’t let on to what was happening. They of course assumed that I was pregnant. And there’s nothing less elegant than a pregnant Edda Schönherz in prison. What were they going to do now? I read in the files that I was given morning-after pills, without my permission.

How did you feel?

There’s a limit to what anyone can bear, and when you’ve reached that limit, your subconscious takes over. At that moment, it was clear that there was nothing I could do, that I was totally under their control. I had to build a wall around me to survive. That was my only goal. After that, it’s as if you’re living in a tunnel. I could see light at the end of the tunnel. That’s where I wanted to go. I tried to focus on that and ignore everything else around me.

Do you ever talk with your children about what happened?

I try to talk with them about it and I’ve taken them along on a tour of the memorial. But perhaps they’re trying to repress those events. It was a very, very difficult time for them. The memories are painful. I can understand that. I’m writing a book that I want to dedicate to my children. They should know what happened.

Do they blame you?

No. They’re happy that they have been able to build a better life in the West. But I’ve always had the feeling, and this may be just my own imagination, that they blame me for something. Or maybe I just have a bad conscience because I feel that I let them down. I can never make up for the three years in prison.

Have there been consequences for your health?

When I was in prison, I had terrible reoccurring nightmares. In one dream, my children are standing at the edge of a cliff. I can see them there, I run to them, reach out for them, but they’re gone. In another dream, I walk into the TV station and can’t find my studio. But I have to get going, the show is starting. I dash like mad through the building, but it’s hopeless. Even today, I’m still haunted by the nightmare about my children. In my dream, my children are the same age as they were when I had to leave them. That must mean, on some level, that I still haven’t fully come to terms with this ordeal.

What happened to you after your release?

After I was released from prison, I still had to wait two years before my children and I could leave the country for the West. During this period, I worked for the Caritas Catholic aid and relief organization as a photographer. Actually, the GDR had offered me a job as an unskilled worker in a large bakery. I refused. There’s no disgrace in working, I said, but I won’t do another day’s work for this state. The East German authorities threatened me. They said that if I couldn’t prove that I had taken a job within four to six weeks, I would be sent to a work camp, in other words, I would be sentenced to two to five years in prison. That was how the GDR could officially claim that it had no unemployed workers or antisocial individuals. They were all in prison. The bishop of the Evangelical Church refused three times to meet with me, but the Catholic Church helped me and gave me a job at Caritas. That way I at least had an income for my children and myself. We could afford to stay in our house.

After I moved to West Germany, I had to get back into my profession again. I wanted to prove to the Stasi that they hadn’t broken me, despite everything that had happened. Of course, my relatives helped me. I applied to five networks. Four of them answered and said that they wanted to hire me. Der Bayerische Rundfunk was the first network to respond, and I wanted to live in Munich. I wasn’t interested in moving to West Berlin because seeing the Wall would have been too depressing for me. It would have been as if I were locked up again. And Munich – so I thought – is far away. But the Stasi had a long arm that reached all the way to southern Germany. When I read my Stasi files at the Gauck Agency, I saw that the Stasi had kept an eye on me until 1988. In 1992, a production director at Der Bayerische Rundfunk was unmasked as a Stasi agent.

How do you come to terms with your ordeal?

I couldn’t talk about it for 20 years, and neither could my children. They are still a bit hung up about it, but they’ll have to work through it someday. It’s very important. You can’t just sweep this entire period of your life under the rug. Many former detainees are not able to come to terms what happened to them, they just aren’t strong enough. Some of them are so traumatized that they can’t speak openly about the issue. I have to cope with my imprisonment and deal with the whole experience. In a sense, the tours that I give at the memorial and the book that I’m writing are a way of coming to terms with what happened.

How do you feel about the people who did this to you?

What can I say? I’ve thought about what it took to convince my interrogator to accept a job like this in the first place. If someone believed in that regime 100 percent, then I’d say: “Well, okay.” But if someone did it out of greed, or because he thought it was a good career move, then he’s in trouble. I always say: “You have to be able to look at yourself in the mirror every morning.” Many people look at themselves and say: “You’re a stranger, but I’ll wash you anyway.” These people have a problem. I always have to be able to look at myself in the mirror and recognize myself. That’s my motto in life.

What are your hopes for the future?

My biggest hope is that I’ll stay healthy and my children will stay healthy. We’re happy with our lives and we want to be able to look forward to the future. I especially hope that the horrible events of the past will never be repeated. We shall see. Today old Stasi agents are crawling out of the woodwork again to taunt their victims. They still haven’t learned. And I hope that we all have the strength to stand up against them and say: “From this day onwards, never again!”