Glossen 26
Sex and Socialism: the antifascist hero in the life and works of Elfriede Brüning Sara Jones In his analysis of antifascism and antifascist resistance as part of
the foundational mythology of the GDR, Herfried Münkler argues that
the role of Communist cells in the first years of resistance against
fascism was overemphasised to suggest a continuous movement encompassing
wide sections of the population.[1] Münkler considers that this led
to the image of the antifascist resister and victim of fascism becoming
part of the cultural memory of the GDR. Indeed, Münkler contends,
the emphasis on this experience of the Nazi era, which did not correspond
to the memories of the majority, meant that the GDR had to rely heavily
on the medium of cultural memory to disseminate this "political
myth."[2] Annette Simon, the daughter of Christa and Gerhard Wolf,
describes the effect of this overemphasis as a "Loyalitätsfalle." For
Simon, antifascism was not only the founding legend of the state, but
also a type of meta-ideology, designed to ensure loyalty to the SED:
the antifascists returning to rule the GDR after World War II, with their
images of persecution, torture and death, created an "Über-Ich," which
demanded recompense and loyalty for their sacrifice.[3] In her psychoanalytical study of GDR literature, Julia Hell argues that
the discourse of antifascism and the leading role of Communists in the
resistance to Hitler "legitimated the power of a single party and
its state."[4] Following Claude Lefort, Hell develops a model of totalitarianism
as "an ideological project [...] concerning the realm of symbolic
and cultural politics" (H 7), in which the social is made to cohere
around the figure of the leader: in the case of the GDR, around the sublime
body of the Communist hero of antifascism (H 19). Hell states that, in
the early years of the GDR, the Party under Walther Ulbricht aimed to
gain the support of the population for the society's new "central
zone," that is, the centre of the system of symbols, values and
beliefs, which forms society's structures of authority. This central
zone was, according to Hell, constructed by "deploying a symbolic
politics of paternity, a cultural discourse revolving around the antifascist
father" (H 25). For Hell, the "specificity of GDR literature" lies
in its contribution to this dominant discourse of antifascism (H 17).
She argues that an understanding of the "conscious and unconscious
fantasies" developed in GDR literature's engagement with antifascism
can help explain why GDR authors felt bound to the system and to socialism,
even beyond 1989 (H 15-17). In her analysis of the foundational narratives
of the GDR (works by Anna Seghers, Willi Bredel and Otto Gotsche), Hell
notes a focus on the figure of the antifascist father and a projection
of an "unbroken male lineage of Communist fathers and sons," that
is, a continuity between the current leadership and the antifascist past,
and considers that they, therefore, "represent an integral part
of the Communists' symbolic politics of power"(H 18). Thus Münkler, Simon and Hell all associate antifascism with representatives
of power in the GDR and argue that the Communist hero is constructed
to inspire loyalty to the state. In this respect, analysis of the presentation
of the antifascist hero in the works of GDR authors can be useful as
part of a wider analysis of the individual author's attitude towards
these representatives of power, which can feed into broader questions
about the success of this "totalising project." This article
aims to examine the applicability of this approach taking the example
of the GDR author, Elfriede Brüning. The analysis will compare the
presentation of the antifascist in Brüning's autobiography, unpublished
correspondence and two of her literary works, Septemberreise (1974) and
Wie andere Leute auch (1983). In Hell's model, the sublime body of the
Communist hero is disciplined and ascetic (H 33) and is represented by
the Communist father or mentor. In Brüning's texts, however, the
antifascist hero is neither father nor mentor, but rather youthful lover
and returning exile. These antifascists do not represent the sublime
Communist body described in Hell's model, but rather the sons who are
expected to identify with the sublime father and continue the unbroken
chain of Communist ideals. This article aims to analyse the extent to
which these Communist lovers succeed in fulfilling this expectation.
This, in turn, can point towards ambivalences in Brüning's response
to this foundational mythology and to the antifascists returning to occupy
leading positions in the GDR. Born in 1910, Elfriede Brüning joined the Communist Party in 1930 and the Bund proletarisch-revolutionärer Schriftsteller (BPRS)[5] in 1932. She remained in Germany throughout the 12 years of Nazi rule and, before the war, took part in illegal activities on behalf of the BPRS, including smuggling documents to Prague for publication in the emigrant press. Brüning is thus a particularly interesting writer to examine within the framework of the foundational mythology of the antifascist hero, as, although she is not a representative of those antifascists returning from exile or concentration camps, she was involved in the Communist resistance to the NSDAP. Her writing career began with short
pieces of prose in the feuilletons of various magazines and newspapers
of the Weimar Republic and the publication of Und außerdem war
es Sommer in 1934 and Junges Herz muß wandern in 1938. In the 40
years of the GDR, Brüning produced several novels and novellas,
collections of short prose, reportage and works for children and young
adults. Brüning's subjects in the GDR were women's issues, young
people and antifascist resistance, particularly female antifascists.
Since the Wende, she has produced mostly non-fictional works, including
her autobiography, Und außerdem war es mein Leben [6] and collections
of short prose focusing on post-Wende issues or post-Wende reflections
on the GDR. Although Brüning has been largely neglected by academic
criticism,[7] the large volume of Leserbriefe in the Brüning collection
in the Fritz-Hüser-Institut in Dortmund attests to a wide readership
and, in the course of the GDR, she enjoyed regular reprints of many of
her works.[8] 1. Septemberreise Early in the text the reader learns that this Communist hero, the "Du" to
whom the narrator's letter is addressed, is not, in fact, a member of
the working class, but rather a bourgeois intellectual who sympathised
with the workers' movement. He envies the narrator, Vera, for her working-class
credentials and natural class instinct (SR 10). In the course of the
work, Vera begins to question if her lover ever truly escaped this bourgeois
background, with its emphasis on appearances, comfort and its restrictive
sexual values. In this respect, two key episodes in the work are Vera's
pregnancy and subsequent abortion during the 1930s and her belief that
she is pregnant again in the early years of the GDR. In the first instance,
Vera complies with her lover's insistence that she abort their child
and is convinced by his argument that they first had to win the revolution
(SR 29). After all, thinking about love in such a time was "spießig" and "kleinbürgerlich" (SR 44). She even forgives him for his neglect when she nearly bleeds
to death; she attributes his short and infrequent visits to her sick
bed to the constant danger under which he lives (SR 30). However, Vera radically reviews this position when she falsely believes
she is pregnant again after the war. Her lover once again insists that
she abort their child, but this time Vera refuses. She questions his
previous arguments, "als ob Revolutionäre niemals Kinder hätten!" and
calls herself "dumm" for going along with them. She even calls
into question his Communist credentials; surely this is not the behaviour
of a Communist, but of someone who is merely concerned with their own
comfortable life and career (SR 121). Although he has not changed, her
perception of him has: his bourgeois attitudes to appearance and the
family do not match his purported principles. Although willing to subjugate
herself to him in their early years together, she begins to question
his moral authority in the post-war era. It is noteworthy that this "bourgeois"
attitude towards marriage and sexual relations was characteristic of
SED policy in this period: functionaries could be disciplined for extra-marital
affairs. In her analysis of works of Willi Bredel, Hell states that the Communist
male protagonists are "characterized by their youth, strength, and
radical politics, overdetermined by traditional attributes of masculinity" --
virility in these texts is inextricably linked to "its imperative
of seizing state power through armed struggle" (H 43). In Septemberreise,
the sexual potency of the male protagonists is similarly linked to their
political activities. Vera's bourgeois husband, who is seen to be too
frightened to stand up to his family, let alone resist fascism, is too
drunk on their wedding night to consummate their marriage (SR 67) and,
although she does eventually become pregnant, this is presented as taking
an abnormally long time, something which Vera also blames on his constant
drinking (SR 85). In contrast, on his return from exile, when her lover
is staying in the house she shares with her husband and his family, she
describes how she was drawn from her husband and to her lover "wie
magnetisch von etwas angezogen" (SR 105) -- the lover's sexual potency
is never questioned. Vera does, however, begin to question her lover's political potency.
As she looks back on his funeral, she reflects that in his youth she
had seen in her lover the ideal image of the Communist hero, describing
him as "unbestechlich," "konsequent," "entschlossen," an
individual who never held back his opinion even it meant being beaten
half to death (SR 127-128). This is an image that corresponds closely
to the Communist of Hell's model, characterized by youth, strength and
radical politics. However, Vera reflects that later in his life her lover
refused to make decisions, compromised, and had nothing in common with
the "Feuergeist jener Jahre" (SR 128) and, in turn, nothing
in common with the Communist hero in Hell's model. Hell argues that,
in Bredel's works, the continuity between Communist fathers and sons
is only assured by death -- the Communist son can only truly become the
Communist father through identification unto death (H 48). In Septemberreise,
it is the lover's failure to die, to become crystallised in the narrator's
memory as the firebrand of his younger years, which leads to his failure
to become the ideal. The lover's refusal to make a decision, to stick to his principles and
leave his wife, stands in contrast to Vera's decision to turn her back
on her husband and daughter as they fled to the West and, without a second's
doubt, choose her lover and her belief in the socialist state. When she
is forced to choose, she chooses "Dich und unser Land" (SR 40). Indeed, Vera is prepared to take significant risks for their relationship;
she repeatedly visits him in exile in Prague, despite the knowledge that
she could be arrested and imprisoned for associating with émigrés
(SR 41). Where he is seen to only think of himself, not even considering
that she might want to go into exile with him and turning her out of
their home after the war when Marietta returns (SR 47 and 69), she is
required to risk her life and sacrifice her child for him and for socialism.
She desperately wants to go into exile with him, but he insists that
she stay in Germany, stating that it is unprincipled to leave without
urgent political necessity (SR 42). He criticises her for marrying the
bourgeois Olaf, but Vera reflects that he took the easy route; he left
because of his convictions and after the war expects to pick up where
he left off, with no consideration for how she was forced to survive
the preceding twelve years of National Socialist rule (SR 60). In Septemberreise,
Brüning thus portrays a division between a returning émigré and
a Communist who stayed in Germany during the Third Reich and, ultimately,
it is Vera, who did not go into exile, who is presented as having made
the greater sacrifices. As will be seen, this point is particularly interesting
in respect to Brüning's presentation of a similar conflict in her
own life, as portrayed in unpublished correspondence and post-Wende autobiography. 2. Wie andere Leute auch Particularly interesting for the analysis of the antifascist hero in
Wie andere Leute auch, is the narrator's description of her former lover,
Herbert. In a similar manner to Vera's love for the "Du" of
Septemberreise, Elisabeth fell in love with Herbert's idealism, passion
and radical politics in the 1930s (WA 23-24); however, on his return
from Nazi imprisonment after the war, she notes a change in him. His
very manner of dress "atmete bürgerliche Behäbigkeit" (WA 25) and he has given up writing in favour of a secure job as an editor.
His concern is now with the material comforts of life (WA 26). The narrator
perceives a "seltsame moralische Entwicklung" in the behaviour
of those who were prepared to risk their lives in the fight against fascism.
In the new order, they seem to feel that they have sacrificed enough
for society and appear to be trying to make up for all that they have
missed out on in terms of the comforts of life; they abandon their former
lovers and fellow sufferers in favour of a bourgeois existence (WA 276).
Elisabeth also reflects on her relationship with another man, Egon, a
Communist Jew. Elisabeth became pregnant with Egon's child in the Weimar
Republic, but, like Vera, decided on an abortion. There is, however,
no sense that Egon forced her to make this decision, neither is there
any criticism levelled at him for fleeing the Third Reich to exile in
Prague (WA 29-30). She later considers what her relationship with Egon
might have been like if he had returned, and it is this that causes her
to reflect on the strange moral development outlined above (WA 276-277).
It is not clear if Egon died or remained in exile, but he does not return
to the GDR and did not undergo this moral development. In her memory,
he is crystallised as the Communist hero of his youth. A development in this later novel is the inclusion of contemporary Communist
heroes, that is, Latin American freedom fighters. These characters are
introduced through their relationship with the narrator's daughter, Juliane,
who works as a Spanish interpreter. A similar dichotomy can be seen between
youthful commitment to the revolutionary cause and the attractions of
the comfortable bourgeois existence. The novel opens with the birth of
Juliane's first child, Carmensita. The father of her child is the Chilean
Communist, Pedro, whom she met in a refugee hospital in the GDR, after
he had lost both his hands in an attempt to force the Americans to lift
the blockade against Cuba (WA 44). Using the same terms as the "Du" of
Septemberreise, when Juliane becomes pregnant, Pedro informs her that
he must start a revolution in his country before he can afford to start
a family (WA 9). However, unlike Vera, Juliane feels able to have the
child alone: in the new socialist order, being a single mother is no
longer impossible and, although Pedro does not feel able to bring up
the child himself, there is no sense that it is restrictive bourgeois
values that lead him to this decision. As the "Du" of Septemberreise abandons Vera in Nazi Germany,
Pedro abandons Juliane and their child to pursue his revolutionary ambitions
in Chile. However, the attitude of Juliane and her mother to this abandonment
is ambivalent. On the one hand, he is criticised for failing to even
contact Juliane or Elisabeth to find out if his child has been born (WA 41), for putting the revolution above everything (WA 306) and the narrative
voice questions if Juliane's life should consist of waiting for Pedro
(WA 307). On the other hand, there is a repeated insistence that he is
truly needed in Chile, and he suffers when he is forced to remain in the
GDR, far away from his comrades (WA 368). Furthermore, although Juliane
dreams of an idyllic German family life (WA 132), she ultimately respects
him for his commitment: "Pedro hatte von den Segnungen des Sozialismus
nicht länger profitieren wollen, hatte einem bequemen Dasein den
politischen Kampf vorgezogen" (WA 198-199). Unlike the representatives
of the antifascists returning to the GDR after the war, Pedro does not
settle for a comfortable existence, even though it is offered to him,
but chooses to continue the fight against the enemies of socialism, to
imitate the Communist father of Hell's model. His imprisonment in Pinochet's
Chile at the end of the novel, his failure to return by the end of the
narrative, allows him to remain in this image, that is, metaphorically
identify with the Communist fathers unto death. As in the earlier work, there is a strong link in Wie andere Leute auch between sexual and political potency. In Pedro's absence, Juliane begins
a relationship with a young Venezuelan socialist, José. José has
been sent to the GDR by his comrades with the purpose of gaining qualifications
to help him in his work on his return home. However, in the GDR José begins
to lose his political idealism, to enjoy the comfortable lifestyle and
to boast of the modern apartment they will be able to afford when they
return to Venezuela; he even suggests that she might work for the capitalist
oil refineries (WA 196-197). He states that unlike Pedro he would never
leave her, he cannot live without her (WA 199), but Juliane cannot respect
his lack of commitment to Communism and ultimately leaves him when news
of Pedro reaches her (WA 206). This is not only another example of the
disappointment felt when Communist heroes fall for the temptations of
a comfortable existence, it also indicates the sexual prowess of those
who do not succumb to these temptations. The narrative voice tells of
Juliane's boredom with José's sexual technique, whereas the reader
learns that Pedro had "das Liebesspiel vollendet beherrscht, immer
neue Liebkosungen erfunden, sie zur Ekstase geführt" (WA 195).
The reader is never moved to pity Pedro, despite his disability, but
rather to admire him for his commitment. In contrast, José is
reduced to "der arme Junge" when he expresses his love for
Juliane (WA 199). In Hell's model, the figure of the antifascist hero
inspires not only identification, but also subjugation and willing subordination
(H 46). For Juliane, this is seen to be not only a subordination of her
needs and desire for an idyllic family life, but also sexual subordination.
The first time she and Pedro have intercourse, she is described as "fest
entschlossen und willig [...], sich ihm hinzugeben" (WA 40), that
is willingly, but passively succumbing to this figure of "overdetermined
masculinity." 3. Autobiography and archive material In terms of comparison with Septemberreise and Wie andere Leute auch,
one particularly interesting figure in Brüning's autobiography is
Heinz Pol. Pol was the editor of the Neue Montagszeitung, for which Brüning
wrote articles and reportages in 1932. A committed Communist, married
and with a middle-class background, he spent the weekends distributing
flyers and taking part in demonstrations. He advised Brüning: "Wir
können uns Romantik heute noch nicht leisten" (UA 73). These
are all characteristics that allow parallels to be drawn with the "Du" of
Septemberreise. Further parallels can be seen in the insensitivity with
which he suggests that she abort their child, "meinte er nur seufzend,
daß sich der Urlaub eben um weitere Scheinchen verteuern würde," and
with his neglect after she has had the abortion; he visits her sick bed,
but not often enough to raise suspicions (UA 78-79). Furthermore, like
the "Du" of Septemberreise, Pol also fled Nazi Germany to exile
in Prague. Brüning's criticism in her autobiography is reserved for those émigrés
who did eventually return to the GDR and take on leading roles in the
new state. At the same time as she is meeting Heinz Pol in Prague, she
is also conducting an affair with Hans Schwalm, who later became the
writer Jan Petersen. In terms of sexual potency, Petersen does not compare
favourably to Pol, but is described as prosaic, "selbst in der Leidenschaft
noch pedantisch," insisting that they always use a condom to prevent
unwanted pregnancy (UA 96). Petersen also escapes Nazi Germany, fleeing
to Paris, where, as the "man in the mask," he informed the
audience of International Writers' Congress for the Defence of Culture
about the BPRS. Petersen eventually emigrated from Paris to London where
he spent the remainder of the war before returning to the GDR in 1946.
Her portrayal of Jan Petersen on his return to the GDR is of a self-obsessed
and slightly arrogant individual, who promotes himself at the expense
of others. She describes how, at a Writers' Congress, Petersen took the
stage to describe his heroic appearance in Paris and his book that he
wrote in Nazi Berlin, but fails to mention, until prompted by Berta Waterstradt,
that while he was celebrating in Paris, several of his colleagues, including
Brüning, were being arrested by the Gestapo (UA 364). Another Communist émigré, Heinz Willmann, who spent the
war in the Soviet Union and returned to occupy a leading position in
the Kulturbund, is criticised for using the "Sie" form with
Brüning, a fellow comrade. Before the war, Brüning notes, it
had always been their dream that everyone would use the familiar "Du." She
comments: "Auch Heinz Willmann schien mir auf einmal um vieles fremder
geworden," a linguistic parallel to her statement in Wie andere
Leute auch of former lover Herbert: "Wir waren uns fremd geworden" (WA 26). This criticism is further extended to include other members of the
ruling elite. She suggests that those in charge have forgotten their
egalitarian values when they effectively create a new class system with
the introduction of different ration cards and separate canteens for
workers and functionaries -- this was not how they had envisioned socialism
(UA 345-346). Furthermore, in her autobiography Brüning sets up a distinction
between those members of the Communist Party and the BPRS who emigrated
and those who stayed in Germany.[13] She states that, while writers were
able to perfect their skills in exile, those who remained in Germany
were cut off from world literature and unable to develop (UA 109-110).
These issues are also addressed in unpublished pre-Wende correspondence.
In a letter to Anna Seghers dated 19 October 1968, she complains that
her illegal work for the BPRS and her arrest by the Nazis are evidently
not valued at all by cultural functionaries in the GDR. She is ignored
by literary criticism and not included in an anthology of BPRS writers,
nor in anthologies published to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the
foundation of the GDR.[14] Brüning also sends a copy of this letter,
with a few minor changes, to Gerhard Henniger (First Secretary of the
Writers' Union). Interestingly, one of these changes includes accusing
Henniger, a leading functionary, directly of ignoring the risks she put
herself at in the Third Reich: "anscheinend gilt das alles nicht
viel" becomes "daß es auch in Euren Augen nicht viel
gilt."[15] However, in these letters Brüning does not suggest
that the sacrifices of those who remained in Germany were greater than
the sacrifices of those who were forced into exile, imprisoned or sent
to concentration camps. It seems that is only after the Wende that she
feels able to express in non-fictional form this sense of having given
more to the cause, which is only hinted at in the risks taken by her
female protagonists and criticism of the returning Communist heroes in
her pre-Wende fiction. This distinction between the returning exiles and those who remained
in Germany during the war in Brüning's texts can also be seen to
be an issue of gender. The communists who remained in Germany during the Third Reich in the works
discussed are exclusively female, whereas criticism is directed solely
against male antifascists returning from exile. In this respect, Brüning
can be seen to be putting forward a veiled critique of the imagery of
the antifascist as the male émigré. As Hell argues, the
works of Bredel, Marchwitza and Gotsche "focus unfailingly on male
characters, while female characters and their stories remain peripheral." (H
36) Female characters either conflict with the male protagonist's political
mission or support it; they are not active participants in class struggle.
However, in both her pre-Wende correspondence and post-Wende autobiography,
Brüning presents the image of a more active role in resistance to
fascism on the part of a female Communist, who remained in Germany throughout
Nazi rule. This veiled criticism of the gendered nature of the foundational
mythology of the GDR is seen even more clearly in Brüning's 2004
publication Gefährtinnen: Porträts vergessener Frauen.[16] All
of these eight women, whom, as the subtitle of the work suggests, Brüning
considers did not receive the recognition they deserve in their lifetime,
were active Communists and all but one (Anni Sauer) stayed in Germany
during the war. 4. Conclusion Notes 2 Münkler 21. 3 Annette Simon, "Antifaschismus als Loyalitätsfalle," Frankfurter
Allgemeine Zeitung 1 February 1993. 4 Julia Hell, Post-Fascist Fantasies: Psychoanalysis, History, and the
Literature of East Germany (London: Duke UP, 1997). Subsequent references
refer to this edition and will be given after the abbreviation H in parenthesis
in the text. 5 The BPRS, founded in 1928, was an organisation of writers, including
Johannes R. Becher, Anna Seghers and Jan Petersen, who believed that
art could be used as a weapon in class warfare and that literature should
reflect the present of the proletariat. The BPRS was banned in 1933,
but existed underground until 1935 when its members were arrested by
the Gestapo. See Christoph Hein, Der Bund proletarisch-revolutionärer
Schriftsteller Deutschlands: Biographie eines kulturpolitischen Experiments
in der Weimarer Republik (Münster: Lit, 1991) for a comprehensive
history of this organisation. 6 First published as Elfriede Brüning, Und außerdem war es
mein Leben: Aufzeichnungen einer Schriftstellerin (Berlin: Elefanten,
1994). The most recent edition has been heavily revised by the author,
who has removed several chapters, and published as Elfriede Brüning,
Und außerdem war es mein Leben: Erinnerungen (Munich: Deutscher
Taschenbuch, 2004). Subsequent references refer to the 2004 edition and
will be given after the abbreviation UA in parenthesis in the text. 7 A review of Germanistik from 1971 to 2006 and a search of the online
catalogue of the Bibliographie der deutschen Sprach- und Literaturwissenschaft
produced only four pieces of scholarship under the search term "Elfriede
Brüning." Brüning is mentioned only once in Wolfang Emmerich's
Kleine Literaturgeschichte der DDR, 2nd edn (Berlin: Aufbau, 2000) 90. 8 For example: ...damit du weiterlebst was first published in 1949 by
Neues Leben and subsequently by Mitteldeutscher and reached its 15th
edition in 1985; Regine Haberkorn was first published by Tribüne
in 1955 and reached its 10th edition in 1961. The novel was published
again in 1966, 1970 and 1974 by Mitteldeutscher Verlag; Partnerinnen was first
published by Mitteldeutscher Verlag in 1978 and reached its 6th edition in 1981. 9 Elfriede Brüning, Septemberreise (Halle: Mitteldeutscher Verlag, 1974)
149. Subsequent references refer to this edition and are given after
the abbreviation SR in parenthesis in the text. 10 Elfriede Brüning, Wie andere Leute auch (Halle: Mitteldeutscher Verlag,
1983). Subsequent references refer to this edition and are given after
the abbreviation WA in parenthesis in the text. 11 Elfriede Brüning, statement on Ruth Eberlein's thesis, October
1984, Fritz-Hüser-Institut Dortmund (FHI), Bestand Brüning
(BRÜ), Ablieferungsliste 13. 12 Elfriede Brüning, letter to Dieter Fechner, 14 September 1980,
FHI, BRÜ, Ablieferungsliste 9. 13 Cf. Joanne Sayner, Women without a past: German Autobiographical Writings
and Fascism (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2007). 14 Elfriede Brüning, letter to Anna Seghers, 19 October 1968, FHI,
BRÜ 21. 15 Elfriede Brüning, letter to Gerhard Henniger, 19 October 1968,
FHI, BRÜ 261. Cf. Elfriede Brüning, letter to Eduard Claudius,
31 January 1970, FHI, BRÜ 41 and Elfriede Brüning, letter to
Harry Matter, 21 January 1988, FHI, BRÜ 1702. 16 Elfriede Brüning, Gefährtinnen: Porträts vergessener
Frauen (Berlin: Karl Dietz, 2004). 17 Wolfgang Engler, Die Ostdeutschen: Kunde von einem verlorenen Land (Berlin: Aufbau, 1999) 118-119.
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