Tracing the Stasi in the Televised German Krimi : Tatort and

Polizeiruf 110 Episodes as Precursors to the

Post-Reunification Stasi Debate

Sascha Gerhards

German Studies Review, Volume 40, Number 3, October 2017, pp. 567-586
(Article)

Published by Johns Hopkins University Press

DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/gsr.2017.0094

For additional information about this article

https://muse.jhu.edu/article/675837

Access provided by your subscribing institution. (16 Oct 2018 18:44 GMT)
 Tracing the Stasi in the
Televised German Krimi:
Tatort and Polizeiruf 110 Episodes
as Precursors to the
Post-Reunification Stasi Debate
Sascha Gerhards

ABSTRACT

The feature film The Lives of Others (2006) is commonly credited with initiat-
ing a post-reunification debate on the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit (Stasi) in
the mass media. This article examines select episodes of the German Tatort and
Polizeiruf 110 crime series, demonstrating that fictional television productions
also addressed the Stasi, and did so much earlier than 2006. In either a subliminal
way, as in the Polizeiruf episode “Der Fall Lisa Murnau” and the Tatort episode
“Taxi nach Leipzig,” or as an open Stasi discourse in “Unter Brüdern,” episodes
from both series can be read as precursors to the Stasi debate.

A film scene set in the short time span between the Wende and the German reunifica-
tion: East Germany in its final days; West German police detectives Horst Schimanski
and Christian Thanner from the Duisburg chapters of the Tatort crime television
series are entering the Transitautobahn1 (transit highway) outside of Berlin. On the
ramp, they briefly stop by a group of female hitchhikers, but as soon as the girls run
toward the car, Thanner accelerates, much to the disappointment of Schimanski. In
response to Schimanski’s indignation, Thanner emphasizes that the two detectives
have “other things to worry about” and that he is, above all, “a little nervous.” Frus-
trated by the situation and the outcome of their ongoing investigation, Schimanski
grumbles, “I don’t know, somehow, driving through the Soviet zone is a really awkward
feeling. Stasi here and Stasi there. Every waiter, every prostitute, every doorman is
Stasi. And suddenly, they have all been turned around” (Tatort, “Unter Brüdern”).2

German Studies Review 40.3 (2017): 567–586 © 2017 by The German Studies Association.
568 German Studies Review  40 /3  • 2017

This scene introduces the episode “Unter Brüdern” (Among brothers; Helmut
Krätzig, 1990), a collaborative effort of the West German crime series Tatort (Crime
scene) and its East German competitor Polizeiruf 110 (Police phone number 110),3
the most prominent representatives of televised Krimi4 in contemporary Germany.
The series have been broadcast since 1970 (Tatort in West Germany) and 1971
(Polizeiruf 110 in East Germany until 1990, then continued in West Germany),
respectively. Sixteen years before Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s feature film
Das Leben der Anderen (The Lives of Others, 2006), the narrative of “Unter Brüdern”
depicts the secret service of the German Democratic Republic as heavily involved in
the everyday lives of its citizens. It raises the difficult question of who can be trusted
when interacting with GDR citizens and officials.
Although The Lives of Others has been credited with initiating a serious debate
on the East German Ministerium für Staatssicherheit (Stasi), allusions to the Stasi
in Tatort and Polizeiruf warrant a closer look at select episodes of both series. Case
studies of the very first Tatort episode “Taxi nach Leipzig” (Taxi to Leipzig; Peter
Schulze-Rohr, 1970) and the Polizeiruf 110 episode “Der Fall Lisa Murnau” (The
Lisa Murnau case; Helmut Krätzig, 1971), show how the Stasi’s influence always was,
in one way or another, present in the German crime genre, prompting the question
of why the television crime genre might lend itself to thematizing the Stasi.
In a close reading of “Unter Brüdern” I show that the episode deserves credit for
an active and open discourse on the Stasi despite not having triggered a long-lasting,
international debate, as did The Lives of Others. Although the Stasi had been the
target of investigative journalism and fictional texts, “Unter Brüdern” was a pioneer
among television productions, introducing the issues discussed in this article to a wider
audience. Television, Wulf Kansteiner claims, “has reflected and shaped historical
consciousness”5 in Germany. In contrast to feature films like Lives, television also
has the advantage of reaching bigger audiences, reflected in high audience ratings
and constant replays, as Kansteiner argues, and thus may be generating significant
impact on cultural discourses such as the Stasi debate.6 Despite the rerun record of
“Unter Brüdern,” however, the lack of attention the episode received necessitates
a discussion of reasons it was overlooked and why, at the same time, Lives was able
to spark this debate.7

The Stasi and Popular Media

The feature film The Lives of Others presents a serious negotiation of Stasi crimes
and, in so doing, differs significantly from earlier, much more humorous Ostalgie
(nostalgic memories of the GDR) productions such as Sonnenallee (Sun alley;
Leander Haußmann, 1999) and Good Bye, Lenin! (Wolfgang Becker, 2003). The
German weekly Die Zeit lauded Lives as the best post-Wende film about the GDR,
emphasizing that it is more political than Sonnenallee, more philosophical than Good
 Sascha Gerhards 569

Bye, Lenin!, and more sarcastic than Berlin is in Germany (Hannes Stöhr, 2001).8
The magazine Der Spiegel claimed, “Lives is probably the first film to engage with
the bizarre Stasi world.”9 While in prior iterations the Stasi was marginalized or
normalized, Lives appeared in a different historical framing, creating a new context.
Although Jens Gieseke criticized Lives for its inaccurate depiction of history,10 and
Cheryl Dueck pointed out an inappropriate humanization of the Stasi,11 Lives is also
recognized for initiating a serious Stasi debate. Wolf Biermann ended on a positive
note in his quintessentially skeptical analysis of the film, stating: “For this reason,
the director managed to convey the feelings of the subjects in a Kafkaesque dictator-
ship, even without having been through the excruciating lesson of GDR socialization
himself.”12 Likewise, Biermann claims that what he calls the “political sound” of the
film is authentic.
Authenticity in the depiction of the Stasi—or the lack thereof—seems to be the
main focus in scholarly approaches to The Lives of Others, which emphasizes a
potential weakness of genre films, historical films, and narrative cinema in general.
Nevertheless, as Cheryl Dueck has argued, the film deserves credit as a “form of
witnessing that reaches a wide public,” precisely because of its use of familiar symbols
such as “the recognizable aesthetic of the decor, clothing, and social groups within the
German Democratic Republic, as well as the familiarity of the East Berlin cityscape.”13
In the popular media discourse on the Stasi, however, the German crime drama—
the “Krimi”—has been neglected entirely. Like The Lives of Others, the Krimi cannot
depict the Stasi authentically due to generic limitations.14 But the absence of Krimi
analyses within the Stasi debate is all the more surprising as the crime genre offers
the possibility of a unique intersection between criminal work, the Stasi, and the
police, and thus would be highly relevant to a Stasi discourse. This intersection can
be witnessed, for example, in “Unter Brüdern” (1990), the collaborative production
of the West German WDR (Westdeutscher Rundfunk) and the East German DFF
(Deutscher Fernsehfunk) television stations.
Even earlier Tatort and Polizeiruf episodes did showcase the influence of the Min-
isterium für Staatssicherheit, without, however, addressing the secret service directly.
Nevertheless, the addition of the Stasi to any crime plot doubles the representation
of executive authorities in the genre. In theory, both the secret service and the police
fulfill the function of guaranteeing constitutional rights and protecting citizens from
criminal activity. The Stasi thus marks a unique intervention in the generic gram-
mar of the Krimi, and prompts the question: As part of a governmental observational
apparatus, (how) was the Stasi negotiated in East and West German Krimis? A brief
history of the crime genre —particularly in the GDR—and Stasi allusions within it
can shed light on this question, leading eventually to 1990, the year of the Wende
and the episode “Unter Brüdern.”
Before World War II, Germany already had a rich Krimi tradition.15 But unlike the
570 German Studies Review  40 /3  • 2017

West German Krimi, the genre fared poorly in the newly founded German Democratic
Republic. Audiences still embraced the enthralling plots of crime fiction and film,
but GDR leaders perceived the genre as an offspring of capitalist, bourgeois society,16
despite celebrated theorist and playwright Bertolt Brecht’s defense of the Krimi.17 A
product of Anglophone culture, the crime genre, in the eyes of GDR officials, repre-
sented Kriegshetzer-Kultur (culture of warmongers).18 British and especially American
crime fiction and films were considered inhumane, barbaric, and cynical. The genre
as a whole was seen as a sign of imperialistic degeneration that had to be confronted.
In accordance with its ideological agenda, the GDR promoted the equality of all of its
citizens, and praised the country’s political system of realexistierender Sozialismus
(real socialism or actually existing socialism) as the foundation for a society without
crime. A crime novel or film that depicted homicide, theft, and other capital offenses
could and should not exist in this “new” society. The GDR government even launched
a propaganda campaign lasting several decades against the genre.19
At the same time, the Stasi monitored people involved in the country’s cultural
sector, particularly authors and screenwriters, with special attention paid to those
involved with the crime genre.20 The government’s negative perception changed
slightly over time, but before the Wende, authors only hesitantly adapted to the
changes due to fear of Stasi oppression. Above all, the discourse on the social function
of the Krimi responded to ideological concerns, not to actual social problems. But, as
accurately depicted in The Lives of Others, the Stasi did not only carefully monitor
people engaged in the country’s cultural sector. On the level of domestic politics, the
Stasi also attempted to control its citizens through so-called IMs, short for inoffizielle
Mitarbeiter (unofficial employees/collaborators). This governmentally mandated
observation of GDR citizens through IMs organized by the Stasi was highly ideological.
All in all, the totalization of governmental influence in the GDR was multifaceted,
continuing until German reunification, and yet, the Stasi could not control a highly
ideologically charged West German product, easily available in the East using a
simple antenna: the Tatort crime television series. In both West and East Germany,
television played a significant role in the development of the crime genre. While the
grip on literature was tight, the Stasi could not control television waves broadcast
from West Germany, easily received especially in the border regions of the GDR. For
East German audiences this meant free access to the Tatort series for a rather large
share of the population, starting as early as 1970.
As a response to the success of Tatort in the GDR, the East German television
station DFF (Deutscher Fernsehfunk) introduced the series Polizeiruf 110 in 1971,
only one year after the first Tatort episode had aired.21 Developed by the scenario
editors in the subdivision Gegenwart (present age) of the DFF department Fernseh-
kunst (television art), Polizeiruf 110 portrayed aspects of then contemporary social
reality, much more prominently than older crime films and novels.22 But unlike the
 Sascha Gerhards 571

West German competitor Tatort with its designated function of “öffentlich-rechtliche

Aufklärung” (enlightenment through public television),23 Polizeiruf 110 could not
address sociocultural issues openly.24 The shift in the GDR’s cultural agenda to
counterbalance the ideological influence of the popular West German crime series,
however, was directly related to the success of the first Tatort episode “Taxi nach
Leipzig” (1970).25 Thus, the tension between the two German states can also be
traced in their media.26

The Tatort Episode “Taxi nach Leipzig”

Based on a screenplay by acclaimed West German author Friedhelm Werremeier,
“Taxi nach Leipzig” takes place primarily in the GDR, and both West and East German
citizens are involved in the crime. The episode’s implication that both West and East
Germans are prone to commiting crimes likely attracted East German audiences, who
were accustomed to a much more biased depiction of the “other” Germany, namely
the capitalist West. The plot of “Taxi nach Leipzig” revolves around an undercover
investigation of a West German detective in the GDR, foreshadowing the Wende
episode “Unter Brüdern” to be discussed later in this chronological analysis.
At the beginning of “Taxi nach Leipzig,” the GDR’s attorney general officially
requests the support of West German law enforcement agencies. In his request, he
reports that a boy had been found dead at a rest stop of the East German Autobahn,
wearing a West German brand of shoes, which prompted the request for Amtshilfe
(legal and administrative cooperation). Shortly after the initial telex,27 the attorney
general revokes his request. This unexpected turn of events arouses the interest of
West German police detective Paul Trimmel. Trimmel had worked at the Reichskrimi-
nalamt (Federal office of crime detection in Nazi Germany) with his East German
colleague Karl Lincke, and now hopes to collaborate with him. The connection here
of both investigators and the states they represent to the Nazi past would represent
structural corruption per se.
Lincke, however, rejects Trimmel’s request, stating, “The case is closed for you.”
This reaction motivates Trimmel to attempt an undercover mission. He takes the
Transitautobahn to Berlin and simulates a car breakdown near Leipzig. He then
takes a taxi to Leipzig, where he looks for the mother of the dead boy. In the course
of his investigation he unravels an affair that involves East and West Germans, in
particular, the boy’s East German mother Eva Billsing and his illegitimate father,
West German chemist Erich Landsberger.
Although police work is depicted most unrealistically in “Taxi nach Leipzig,”
the episode showcases the complex judicial and social relationship between East
and West Germany in the 1970s, while also implicitly commenting on the different
political agendas in East and West. The mistrust between East and West implied in
the sequence of “Unter Brüdern” discussed in the opening to this essay, however, is
572 German Studies Review  40 /3  • 2017

countered in “Taxi nach Leipzig” by the old friendship between Trimmel and Lincke.
From the absence of allusions to the Stasi in “Taxi nach Leipzig” we can infer that
the Stasi was not yet a part of television discourse. At the same time, the unadorned
depiction of social issues and cross-border crimes in “Taxi nach Leipzig” presented
a problem for the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit and for GDR officials. Since the
episode was widely available in the GDR via antenna television, it appealed to GDR
and West German audiences alike, thus undermining the attempts made in the GDR
to discredit the crime genre as a whole, and West German productions in particular.
Of the first twenty-five Tatort episodes, twenty-two had audience ratings between
50 and 70 percent in West Germany, not factoring in viewers in the East.28 The East
German audience’s interest in Tatort presented a cultural and ideological threat to the
East German government.29 The creation of Polizeiruf 110, I would argue, represents
the attempt to regain control of East German viewers—as well as control over what
they see. Consequently, Polizeiruf was not free from governmental involvement, a
fact that is reflected in its plots in various ways.

The Polizeiruf 110 Episode “Der Fall Lisa Murnau”

Had the West so far been perceived as the true catalyst of “moral damage”30 in the
East German crime genre, Polizeiruf plots now revolved around crimes committed
by GDR citizens, which inevitably revealed a discrepancy between the SED’s socialist
political doctrine and the public perception of the country’s crime record. On the
one hand, the SED had to meet a growing demand for crime films similar to Tatort
because of the West German series’ availability and success; on the other hand it had
to circumvent the depiction of crimes that did not fit the country’s political ideology.
This resulted in a bizarre balancing act between fiction and reality because “in spite of
the GDR’s officially advocated steady evolution toward full socialism, asocial behavior
and criminal conduct still abound[ed].”31 The frequency of occurrence even forced the
SED government to keep official crime statistics under tight wraps, replacing them
with falsified data.32 As of 1973, crime statistics were not even published anymore.33
Those crimes still reported, however, were ideologically exploited by allocating them
to outsiders of the socialist system. It is thus not surprising that, for the first Polizeiruf
episode, the DFF chose “Asozialität” (asocial behavior), an official term from GDR
criminal law, as the reason for the crime. This way, the culprit could simultaneously
be depicted as a member of and an outsider to Socialist Society.
The first Polizeiruf 110 episode “Der Fall Lisa Murnau” (1971) introduces the
investigators Oberleutnant (first lieutenant) Peter Fuchs and Leutnant (lieutenant)
Vera Arndt. While Vera Arndt was replaced in 1983, Fuchs remained an investigator
until after the Wende, also starring in “Unter Brüdern.” The episode revolves around
an armed robbery during which the postal worker Lisa Murnau is severely wounded.
After the robbery, some 70,000 marks are missing from the vault. When Peter Fuchs
 Sascha Gerhards 573

and Vera Arndt arrive at the crime scene, they find the gravely injured postal worker,
along with a young man named Harry Wolter. Wolter cannot remember any details
of the crime because he was already drunk when the robbers hit him on the head.
Being drunk in public was considered misconduct in the GDR, and consequently,
Wolter is soon presented as one of the prime suspects.
This reaffirms the notion of “asocial behavior” that the GDR government used to
explain the enduring existence of crime. Those individuals committing crimes were
considered aberrant and not an integral part of socialist society. Thus, early Polizeiruf
episodes had a clear pedagogical mission, as Jochen Kade has pointed out.34 Through
the portrayal of aberrant characters and a clear resolution at the end, citizens were
supposed to realize that there was only one possible way to lead your life: a lawful
one, abiding by the laws of the German Democratic Republic.
In the course of their investigation, Fuchs and Arndt soon discover that the post
office door was not damaged, and conclude that Lisa must have known the offender
personally. Harry Wolter accuses the baker Paul Retzlaff of the crime, who also
proves to be a viable suspect: Retzlaff runs an independent business and refuses to
join the Produktionsgenossenschaft des Handwerks (collective of craftsmen). This
makes him politically suspicious and an outsider to socialist society, as well. As they
continue to investigate, the lieutenants find more suspects, all who, like Wolter and
Retzlaff, share some amorous interest in Lisa Murnau. Another potential suspect,
Klaus-Jürgen Proll, tricked several fellow citizens into giving him an advance payment
for a car. Finally, Rudolf Murnau, Lisa’s ex-husband, is also a rough-around-the-edges
type: he has switched employers several times, is an alcoholic, and has not paid his
rent in a while. He is also in debt, and most recently, has failed to appear at work,
having only worked 80 days in the past three years. Clearly, Murnau makes a perfect
suspect. More than any other suspect, he meets the criteria for “asocial behavior.”
It comes as no surprise that, at the end of the lieutenants’ investigation, Murnau is
arrested. Lisa, who has regained consciousness, affirms that he forced his way into
the post office. She also gives Harry Wolter an alibi, confirming that he showed up
shortly before Murnau to confess his love for Lisa.
In many ways, “Der Fall Lisa Murnau” employs well-established genre conventions
that are not specific to the East German Krimi. A crime is committed at the begin-
ning and the investigators solve the case through interrogation and police work. But
a closer reading of the episode also shows that the genre’s social function in the GDR
differs from that of its West German competitor Tatort. First, the plot is manipulated
to make the audience believe that Murnau is really the only viable suspect due to the
severity of his social misconduct. In the West German Krimi, in contrast, economic,
social, psychological, and pathological reasons, among many others, are considered
and exploited as the motivation to commit a crime.35
Second, in the same context, there is no attempt to explore social problems in
574 German Studies Review  40 /3  • 2017

depth (i.e., Why were all the suspects facing financial problems?). Instead, the episode
emphasizes that the crime would not have happened if Lisa Murnau had adhered
to the regulations of the GDR postal service. Since she was not permitted to admit
strangers into the building, she must be reprimanded. This reaffirms the notion of a
socialist pedagogical mission.
Third, analyzed with the Stasi debate in mind, “Der Fall Lisa Murnau” depicts East
German reality in the 1970s more accurately than anticipated: The Stasi was involved
in monitoring younger individuals for misconduct by hiring inoffizielle Mitarbeiter36
who would then report asocial behavior—this was especially prevalent in smaller cities
and towns.37 Since the entire episode revolves around such misconduct, it actually
allows for a retrospective insight into 1970s GDR society, while also showcasing the
subliminal Stasi impact on the East German film and television industry. The “absent
presence” of the Stasi suggests that every GDR citizen had the context for situating
the narrative and the implications about the criminal within the Stasi framework,
just as the police officer’s affiliation with the Stasi was likewise assumed.
The investigators in “Der Fall Lisa Murnau,” thus represent the ideological and
moralistic standards of the GDR regime, while also showcasing the omnipotence of
the police apparatus.38 As soon as lieutenant Fuchs realizes the full extent of Rudolf
Murnau’s social misconduct, he is convinced of his criminal nature and guilt. Much
in line with the subliminal influence of the Stasi on the television industry, Fuchs
represents an investigator whose sole function is the restoration of the socialist order.39
As one of the few references to the GDR’s alleged social reality, the low number
of murders in the Polizeiruf series and Fuchs’s effectiveness in solving criminal cases
paralleled the GDR’s official (yet Stasi-manipulated) crime statistics of the 1970s.
This once again showcases the consistent manipulation performed by the Ministerium
für Staatssicherheit, in the course of which the country’s television industry was
urged to reflect the official agenda.40 The tightrope walk between viewers’ expecta-
tions, the political doctrine, and socialist reality, however, makes Polizeiruf one of
the most interesting cultural artifacts of the GDR. Likewise, the involvement of the
Stasi in the film and television industry as well as the dubious role of East German
police investigators and their ties to the Stasi foreshadows the delicate circumstances
addressed openly in “Unter Brüdern” about forty years later.

A Collaborative Effort: The Tatort/Polizeiruf 110

Episode “Unter Brüdern”
When an unprecedented series of peaceful protests against the SED government in
1989 commonly referred to as Montagsdemonstrationen ultimately led to the Wende,
the crime genre once again demonstrated its ability to address social changes in a
timely fashion. While The Lives of Others is commonly credited with inaugurating
the Stasi discourse in popular culture, the collaborative Tatort/Polizeiruf 110 episode
 Sascha Gerhards 575

“Unter Brüdern” (1990) was actually much earlier and is clearly among the first
pan-German mass media products to openly address the Stasi and its crimes—albeit
on a local rather than international scale.
It is important to note here that there are certain shortcomings when it comes
to comparing feature films and television episodes. First, The Lives of Others, as an
international feature film, attracted particular attention for winning an Academy
Award for Best Foreign Film in 2006 and being nominated for Best Foreign Film at
the Golden Globes in 2007, while “Unter Brüdern” only represents a small fraction of
a national (German) television series. Second, due to its international success, Lives
was made available in movie theaters and on DVD with subtitles and in numerous
languages, whereas “Unter Brüdern” is not available with either to this day. This
situation drastically limits its viewership despite its rerun record. Third, with respect
to the historical context, “Unter Brüdern” was first aired sixteen years before Lives.
Comparing and contrasting it with Lives, thus, highly depends on whether it is being
read in the context of 1990, 2006, or thereafter, as this shapes an audience’s cultural
understanding.
Translated as “Among Brothers,” the title itself indicates an approximation of the
two German nations, represented in this crime television episode by collaborating
teams of police investigators from East and West. The other German, the title sug-
gests, is not a foreign subject but rather a former fellow citizen, or even as close as
an alienated family member.
Unter Brüdern,” premiered on October 28, 1990 and was aired as Tatort episode
number 235 and Polizeiruf episode number 142. It explores the complex situation of
the East German police and the involvement of the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit
in criminal activities. It also raises the question whether former GDR police officers
are biased in their investigations due to their former close ties to the Stasi. At the
same time, it condenses the history of the German-German crime genre of the past
four decades in one narrative: After the long-standing competition of GDR filmmakers
with Tatort and other West German productions, “Unter Brüdern” brings together
investigators Fuchs and Grawe from East Germany and Schimanski and Thanner
from the West.
Similar to the critical discourse on The Lives of Others, however, the depiction
of the Stasi in “Unter Brüdern” raises the question of historical accuracy, which
is significantly complicated by the collaboration of West and East German police
investigators. Cheryl Dueck has argued concerning The Lives of Others that the
film’s narrative structure “reduces the immense issue of the Stasi in society to a
manageable scale,” and that it “triggers the imagination of the viewer to engage with
the traumatic past,” by offering “a fable with which to access it.”41 It is precisely these
characteristics rather than historical accuracy that also make “Unter Brüdern” an
important historical artifact. Furthermore, the episode’s topicality and timeliness
576 German Studies Review  40 /3  • 2017

differentiates the Tatort/Polizeiruf coproduction from later films like The Lives of
Others, as it was the first fictional entity to address Stasi crimes.
The narrative of “Unter Brüdern” revolves around the collaboration of detectives
Horst Schimanski and Christian Thanner from the Duisburg chapter of Tatort with
lieutenants Peter Fuchs and Thomas Grawe, renowned investigators from the Polizei-
ruf series. Its plot suggests an involvement of former members of the Ministerium
für Staatssicherheit in international art smuggling. At the beginning of the episode,
which is set in the short time span between the opening of GDR borders and the
German reunification, a dead body is found in Duisburg’s harbor. When the murder
victim is identified as a member of the Stasi by his tattoo, Schimanski and Thanner
decide to ask their colleagues in East Germany for administrative assistance and
legal cooperation—as in “Taxi nach Leipzig.” East German detectives Grawe and
Fuchs accept the request and travel to West Germany to meet their colleagues. The
four agree that the Duisburg detectives must travel undercover to East Germany to
investigate the involvement of former Stasi officials in the case. Upon Schimanski
and Thanner’s arrival in East Berlin, the Stasi group Dürer immediately seeks contact
with the two investigators who are disguised as rich West German businessmen. In
the course of their investigation, Schimanski, Thanner, Grawe, and Fuchs uncover
the art smuggling ring as well as the decades-long criminal activities of West German
businessmen and (former) members of the Stasi. After closing the case, the two teams
of investigators celebrate the success of the first pan-German collaboration.
On a textual level, the plot does not offer many surprises, nor does it allude to the
potential explosiveness of the collaboration in light of German-German history. The
criminals are affiliated with the Stasi, but the type of illegal behavior in which they
are involved corresponds to genre conventions, such as white-collar crime, smuggling,
and human trafficking. They are motivated by greed, and do not refrain from killing
people if it serves their purpose. But the complex situation of the crime genre in the
GDR—especially the involvement of the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit and the
role of GDR police officers in the political system of the GDR—complicates any facile
analysis of “Unter Brüdern.”
First and foremost, the focus on the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit in “Unter
Brüdern” reminds of us the post-GDR Stasi debate. Typically, these post-Wende
discussions telescoped the GDR and its crimes through the Stasi. In so doing, they
eclipsed other aspects of everyday life in the GDR. Paul Cooke and Nicholas Hubble
have shown that the Stasi worked closely with other governmental institutions such
as the police to secure the party’s hold on power.42 GDR police officers are challenged
as ideologically biased in “Unter Brüdern,” and the common procedure of vetting
in post-Wende Germany reaffirms this assumption.43 The transition from a socialist
country to a democracy was accompanied by enormous efforts to examine ties of
former GDR state employees to the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit. In the course
 Sascha Gerhards 577

of these vetting efforts, especially teachers and police officers were tested for their
political background and—depending on the outcome of the interrogations—were
either approved or rejected for purposes of continued employment within the reunited
German state. As Katy A. Crossley-Frolick has rightfully pointed out, “police are one of
the most critical and sensitive sectors of public administration and typically the first
group to be vetted.”44 The resulting preoccupation with East German police officers
reappears throughout the plot of “Unter Brüdern.”
In a scene that directly precedes the one discussed in the introduction, East Ger-
man police commissioner Fuchs is interrogating a potential witness, art dealer Viola
Bender, in an office of the East German police:

FUCHS: There is a Stasi group that acquired works of art in our country and
transported them abroad by use of criminal means. This group is
called Dürer. You have also purchased paintings from this group.
BENDER: And how do I know that you are not affiliated with this group?
FUCHS: Miss Bender, we are the Criminal Investigation Department, not
the Stasi.
BENDER: This is ridiculous. For the longest time, they were identical, right?
We both know this, right?
FUCHS: I believe, Miss Bender, you read too many magazines.
BENDER: Comrade, captain, eh, excuse me, chief inspector?
FUCHS: Mhhhm?
BENDER: Then what did you do for a living?
FUCHS: Mason.

In this scene from “Unter Brüdern” Bender boldly contests Fuchs’s integrity as a
police officer, implying that the Stasi’s control mechanisms also affected his profes-
sion. Her assumption that the police apparatus cannot be trusted because it served
the same ideological purpose as the Stasi virtually foreshadows the vetting efforts
that began after reunification.
Curiously, Fuchs, who in “Der Fall Lisa Murnau” served the purpose of restoring
the socialist order, receives a new vitae in this scene of “Unter Brüdern.” In response
to Viola Bender’s question regarding his profession before the fall of the Wall, Fuchs
states: mason. Not only does this response manipulate the otherwise consistent
vita of the character within the Polizeiruf 110 series but it also contains subliminal
humor that is somewhat lost in translation. “Der Maurer” is a mason in German;
“die (Berliner) Mauer” is the official West German terminology for what was referred
to as the “antifascist barrier” in the East. A “Maurer” (mason) erects, among other
things, a “Mauer” (wall).
In another scene from “Unter Brüdern,” even Schimanski and Thanner express
578 German Studies Review  40 /3  • 2017

concern that Fuchs and his colleague Grawe might be collaborating with the former
Stasi members the West German police commissioners are pursuing in their inves-
tigation. The notion of “gewendet sein,” a play on words with “die Wende,” is one
of the predominant themes in “Unter Brüdern.” It implies that everyone previously
involved with the Stasi has, by official order, literally been “turned around.” In reality,
the extensive vetting organized by the West German government and delegated to
the state level was intended to assure a democratization of state employees such as
teachers and police officers.45 The question as to whom one can trust in a country
in which citizens were encouraged to spy on their fellow Germans per government
directive recurs throughout the episode and reminds us of an important aspect of
GDR history: the Stasi’s involvement in the everyday life of GDR citizens.
The scenes discussed here illustrate East and West German perceptions of the
East German secret service in 1990—the time immediately after the Wende. Viola
Bender automatically assumes that Hauptkommissar Fuchs must have worked as a
police officer under the GDR regime, and that his profession would have made him
closely tied to the Stasi. Likewise, Schimanski and Thanner, despite their official
function as West German police officers, feel uneasy in a state formerly controlled
by the Stasi. But although Schimanski and Thanner at times doubt the integrity of
their East German colleagues, and despite Viola Bender’s suspiciousness of inspector
Fuchs, “Unter Brüdern” leaves the audience with a more positive message: In the
end, both East German investigators are depicted as flawless democrats.
In doing so, screenwriters Helmut Krätzig and Veith von Fürstenberg followed a
trend in the post-Wende crime genre. Here, as elsewhere, former GDR police officers
are portrayed as faithful servants of the democratic system of West Germany.46 Only
Fuchs’s response to Bender’s question about his former profession (“Maurer”) refer-
ences the vetting campaign, albeit subtly and ironically. If he had really worked as a
mason before the fall of the Wall, how could he be ideologically biased? The question
of whether Fuchs is attempting a joke in this scene, implying that he helped to build
the Wall between East and West in both its physical and ideological manifestations,
or whether his vitae was actually changed particularly for this collaborative episode
remains unanswered throughout the episode. Instead of broaching the issue of
Fuchs’s past—after all, the character had been a police investigator in the Polizeiruf
series—“Unter Brüdern” manipulates his vitae, and thus avoids openly addressing
Stasi ties within the police apparatus.47 Similar to the West German absorption of
East Germany, Fuchs’s vita seems seamlessly integrated into the Tatort series.
In defense of the filmmakers, there was little awareness of the involvement of other
governmental institutions in Stasi operations until the Stasi archives were opened
to the general public (subsequent to the production of “Unter Brüdern”): “Before
the collapse of the GDR there were very few on either side of the Wall who foresaw
an organization on the sheer scale of that now being revealed by its own files.”48
 Sascha Gerhards 579

Thus, “Unter Brüdern,” similar to The Lives of Others, can be accused of historical
inaccuracy. Nevertheless the credit “Unter Brüdern” deserves lies elsewhere: the
episode was not only among the first films to focus on the Stasi, it even helped initiate
the Stasi debate within reunited Germany—or even globally—all the while reaching
significant audiences.49
In addition to the Stasi allusions previously discussed, “Unter Brüdern” was
coproduced by the former, governmentally controlled GDR television station DFF,
which had previously prevented an open discourse on the Stasi. Thus, the episode’s
very critical depiction of the Stasi must have been somewhat informed by the newly
introduced freedom of speech, granted as a result of the Wende movement: “The
decision was clear—the Stasi and tank socialism were on the way out. The Stasi,
the prime instrument of oppression, was to be the first victim.”50 During the reign
of the SED, screenwriters (and literary authors) had adopted a hands-off approach
to the Stasi. Depicting crime committed by “good” citizens, let alone the Stasi as in
“Unter Brüdern,” broke a taboo. The accomplishment of “Unter Brüdern” thus also
lies in the fact that it was among the first fictional entities to treat the Wende and its
sociopolitical aftermath—even if the Stasi is not portrayed entirely accurately.
In contrast to later films like The Lives of Others, “Unter Brüdern” also emphasizes
the continuing ideological stubbornness of Stasi officials. “Historians have legitimately
questioned the plausibility of an officer of the Ministry for State Security (MfS) dis-
carding deeply ingrained enemy projections as easily as Wiesler appears to do,” Mary
Beth Stein writes about the ambiguity of characters in The Lives of Others.51 The main
character Wiesler, the Stasi agent who turns from an opponent to a quasi-supporter
of antistate sentiments in The Lives of Others, has been the main target for critics
that accused the film of historical inaccuracy. “Unter Brüdern,” on the other hand,
presents the leader of the Stasi group Dürer, Oberst Dörfler, as a rigid advocate of
socialist ideals. After he is arrested, Dörfler unintentionally reveals the ideological
hollowness of socialist propaganda in a telling interrogation. At the same time, he
poses a threat suggesting that former members of the Stasi will infiltrate the political
systems in Western Europe:

DÖRFLER: What’s your rank? Chief commissioner? Chief commissioner, that

equals (counts on his fingers). . . captain. Comrade captain. I am
a colonel [Colonel], so retain your composure when you talk to me.
We’ve been through the same schools, and we share the same
ideals. . .
FUCHS: Ideals? And what would that be?
DÖRFLER: . . . so shit on these dim-witted, completely pointless investigations
against me.
FUCHS: I’m interested in your ideals.
580 German Studies Review  40 /3  • 2017

DÖRFLER: Sir, you seem to have an inhibition threshold when it comes to

apprehension. This is not about the paintings; it’s about my people.
Excellent people. Spread all over Western Europe. A force! [clenches
his fist] But a force needs liquid funds. You need to be well off, other-
wise you won’t get good positions, or you can’t hold good positions.
It’s all about positions, and in these positions we will make politics
one day. Our politics. Mine and yours. Does that reach your police
officer’s brain?
FUCHS: Yes, It’s beginning to dawn on me.
DÖRFLER: Looking at you, I don’t believe so.
. . .
FUCHS: Say, are you kidding me, or are you really nuts?

This scene from “Unter Brüdern” like the other ones previously discussed, somewhat
inaccurately portrays the interrogator, Hauptkommissar Fuchs as an ideologically
unbiased defender self-evidently indebted to the newly established democratic system
of the (still existing) GDR. Dörfler’s reaction, however, showcases an ideological
stand associated with Stasi circles in the years immediately after the Wende. As a
high-ranking former Stasi general, Dörfler represents the inflexibility of ideology
in general, and a continuing socialist worldview in the year between the end of the
GDR and the German reunification, and beyond.52 As opposed to the vita of the “true
democrat” Fuchs, the Dörfler character would have certainly failed the vetting that
followed German reunification.
On a metalevel, the episode also alludes to the power of images, reminiscent of
Adorno and Horkheimer’s analysis of the culture industry.53 Dörfler claims, that “this
is not about the paintings,” and yet, the illegal art trade and smuggling enables the
former Stasi officials to maintain a network of influence and power. References to
the power of images recur throughout the episode, not just via the plot’s main theme
of art smuggling. Be it Dörfler’s above claim, Fuchs’s interrogation of Viola Bender,
or the depiction of Fuchs as a flawless democrat, physical and symbolic images are
used in “Unter Brüdern” as a means of manipulating the ends, especially but not
exclusively with respect to propaganda and socialist ideology.54
Even Schimanski and Thanner’s undercover mission as West German business-
men seeking partners in the newly accessible market of a postsocialist GDR prior to
German reunification can be interpreted as a manipulation of images. The fact that
not only the Stasi is criticized in this episode but also the capitalist West presents a
dual image and may account for the lack of attention the episode has received.
Furthermore, Fuchs’s response to Dörfler, “it’s beginning to dawn on me,” (“es
beginnt zu dämmern”) can be read as referring to a certain kind of enlightenment.
Fuchs, with his altered vitae as a politically unsuspicious mason—once again a
 Sascha Gerhards 581

manipulated image—serves here to represent a society only beginning to realize the

dimensions of the Stasi’s influence and entanglement.
Although this article focuses on the episodes and films discussed, and not on
actors per se, delicate revelations that first surfaced in 2014 complicate the Stasi
issue even beyond the metalevel, and thus are worthy of mention. Starting in 2014, a
number of newspaper articles addressed the (potential) involvement of Fernsehkom-
missare (television detectives) in the Stasi. Among others, Eberhard Feik, who died
in 1994, was accused of having worked for the Stasi as an inoffizieller Mitarbeiter.
Feik played Christian Thanner in “Unter Brüdern” and twenty-nine other Tatort
episodes from Duisburg between 1981 and 1991. A year after “Unter Brüdern,” the
Thanner character even appeared in the last Polizeiruf 110 episode produced by the
DFF. “Thanners neuer Job” (Thanner’s new job; Bodo Fürneisen, 1991) aired on
December 22, 1991, nine days before the DFF stopped broadcasting.
The rumors prompted Feik’s widow Annelie Feik to claim in an interview with
the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung in December 2014, “This is so absurd that I
have to laugh.” Nevertheless, she admitted in the interview that the Stasi indeed
approached her and her husband during a family visit in the Harz region in 1984.55
Also in December 2014, the Handelsblatt reported: “Schimanski’s ex-partner was
a GDR spy.” Quoting the renowned Zeit Magazin, the article even provides factual
evidence such as the Feiks’ aliases (“Lear” and “Queen”), their registration number
XV 2518/77 as inoffizielle Mitarbeiter, and the period of employment (1977 to 1984).56
The Stasi case “Thanner,” according to the Handelsblatt, was closed in 1984.
Considering Feik’s political past as a candidate for the DKP (German Communist
Party) in 1971, and his admitted contact with left-wing radicals, the revelations do not
come as a surprise. In the context of the Stasi’s involvement in the film and television
industry, however, they are noteworthy, especially with respect to “Unter Brüdern”
and “Thanners neuer Job.” In this episode, Thanner is promoted from West Germany
(and the Tatort series) to East Germany (and to Polizeiruf 110), where, much to
Fuchs’s and Grawe’s dismay, he becomes their new supervisor.
The discussion of “Unter Brüdern” and other crime episodes has shown short-
comings with respect to the depiction of former GDR police officers and the Stasi
debate. The cultural significance of “Unter Brüdern” and earlier Tatort and Polizeiruf
productions, however, should not be measured as much by their historical inaccuracy,
but rather by their timely approach to a topic that concerned both West and East
Germans. The crimes committed by the Stasi preoccupied Germans for more than a
decade after reunification, with perhaps more accurate—but still problematic—rep-
resentations depicted in The Lives of Others, the Tatort episode “Schlafende Hunde”
(Sleeping dogs; Florian Baxmeyer, 2010), or as late as 2012 in Christian Petzold’s
Barbara. The episodes discussed here all contain, in one way or another, allusions
to the omnipotence of the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit. The West German “Taxi
582 German Studies Review  40 /3  • 2017

nach Leipzig” posed a threat to the Stasi-controlled culture industry of the GDR to the
extent that the only possible reaction was the establishment of a competing format, the
Polizeiruf series. Much more subliminally, “Der Fall Lisa Murnau” does not showcase
Stasi involvement by embedding the secret service’s influence in its plot, but rather
through the complete absence of any critical allusions. This implies that the Stasi
is omnipotent and always present, and that GDR citizens were well aware of this.
The Tatort/Polizeiruf episode “Unter Brüdern” stands uniquely at the forefront
of an open and public Stasi debate on television. Nevertheless, “Unter Brüdern” has
surprisingly not received the attention it deserves—as indicated by the low number
of available reviews, as well as the lack of attention to the episode’s explosive topical-
ity in the very few existing ones. The low number of reviews likely results from the
relatively limited audiences of a German language television production, while the
feature film The Lives of Others reached international audiences. But even the few
extant “Unter Brüdern” reviews emphasize only the unique collaboration between
the ARD and DFF, the effort to reunite not only two countries but also two cultural
products, and the idea of collaborations between different teams of detectives.57 I
propose that East and West German screenwriters and television officials deserve
credit for the courage to tackle the controversial Stasi topic in such a timely fashion,
even if their collaboration did not make the waves—internationally speaking—that
The Lives of Others did in 2006. Introducing the Stasi debate to the general public
in Germany, however, must be credited to the fictional genre of the televised Krimi.
In its final scene, “Unter Brüdern” concludes with a comical take on German-
German (mis-) understandings. Grawe and Fuchs return to Duisburg to celebrate
their success, and to award Schimanski and Thanner a medal. During what Hoff
calls a gesamtdeutsches Einheitsbesäufnis (pan-German unity drinkfest), investigator
Fuchs ironically states: “The GDR had a flood of decorations. We had the highest
number of medals per capita in the whole world. And we were proud of this. Due to
their imperturbable and dauntless commitment against murderers, prostitutes, and
shady individuals, and due to their efforts in the containment of criminal activities,
[Thanner and Schimanski] are being given an award.” Following Fuchs’s address,
Schimanski and Thanner receive high-ranking GDR awards that only weeks later
would become worthless. Nevertheless, Grawe emphasizes that the recipient of
the award is bound by the ideals of the German Democratic Republic (“dient der
Deutschen Demokratischen Republik”). In an ironic twist reminiscent of Good Bye,
Lenin!, the award ceremony at the end of the episode creates the impression that West
Germany was to become part of the GDR, and not vice versa.58 In reality, only weeks
after the episode was first aired, the German Democratic Republic was disbanded
and absorbed by the Federal Republic of Germany.
Whereas the nations merged, the television series maintained themselves as sepa-
rate entities at first—a remnant of the Cold War division of Germany’s cultural and
 Sascha Gerhards 583

ideological agendas. After the liquidation of the DFF in 1991, however, the Polizeiruf
110 series was ultimately integrated into the ARD network, losing its independence
altogether. Curiously, some of the more recent Polizeiruf episodes have outperformed
newer Tatort productions both in their topicality and on a cinematographic level,
which leaves a positive mark and a somewhat promising future outlook.

Notes
 1. The Transitautobahn was a highway leading from West Germany to West Berlin. It was strictly
observed by the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit.
  2. Schimanski here displays a habit common to West Germans at the time who referred to the
GDR as “die Zone,” short for the official terms “sowjetisch besetzte Zone” or “sowjetische Besat-
zungszone,” which were used to describe the territory of the GDR until 1949. All translations of
original quotes are my own, unless otherwise noted.
  3. The equivalent for 911 in both West and East Germany was 110, and remained the same after
the German reunification.
  4. Germans commonly refer to any kind of crime-related fictional content as Krimi, including but
not limited to crime literature, detective fiction, crime films and television shows. I adopted this
term early in my research, as its main focus lies on sociopolitical and economic implications in
the genre, and not on the crime plot itself.
  5. Wulf Kansteiner, “Nazis, Viewers and Statistics: Television History, Television Audience Research
and Collective Memory in West Germany,” in special issue on collective memory, Journal of
Contemporary History 39, no. 4 (2004): 575.
  6. Kansteiner, “Nazis, Viewers and Statistics,” 576.
  7. As of August 20, 2015, the episode had been aired 31 times (http://www.tatort-fundus.de/web
/lexikon/statistiken/spitzenreiter-bei-den-tatort-wiederholungen-in-allen-programmen.html).
  8. Evelyn Finger, “Die Bekehrung,” Die Zeit, February 26, 2007, http://www.zeit.de/2006/13
/Leben_der_anderen.
  9. Lars-Olav Beier, Malte Herwig, Matthias Matussek, “Poesie und Paranoia,” Der Spiegel, March
12, 2006, 173.
10. Jens Gieseke, “Stasi Goes to Hollywood. Donnersmarcks The Lives of Others und die Grenzen
der Authentizität.” German Studies Review 31, no. 3 (2008): 580–588.
11. Cheryl Dueck, “The Humanization of the Stasi in ‘Das Leben der Anderen,’” German Studies
Review 31, no. 3 (2008): 599–609.
12. Wolf Biermann, “Warum Wolf Biermann über den Stasi-Film ‘Das Leben der Anderen’ staunt,”
Die Welt, March 22, 2006, http://www.welt.de/print-welt/article205586/Warum-Wolf-Biermann
-ueber-den-Stasi-Film-Das-Leben-der-Anderen-staunt.html.
13. Dueck, “The Humanization,” 599, 607.
14. Several acclaimed scholars analyzed the generic limitations of the crime genre. See, for instance,
Richard Alewyn, “Anatomie des Detektivromans,” in Der Kriminalroman II—Zur Theorie und
Geschichte einer Gattung, ed. Jochen Vogt (Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 1971), 372–403; Ernst
Bloch, “Philosophische Ansicht des Detektivromans,” in Verfremdungen I (Frankfurt am
Main: Suhrkamp, 1962), 37–63; Bertolt Brecht, “Über die Popularität des Kriminalromans,”
in Werke—Schriften 2, vol. 22.1 (Frankfurt am Main: 1993), 504–510; Siegfried Kracauer, Der
Detektiv-Roman—Ein philosophischer Traktat (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1979).
15. See, for instance, Hans-Otto Hügel, Untersuchungsrichter, Diebesfänger, Detektive—Theorie
und Geschichte der deutschen Detektiverzählung im 19. Jahrhundert (Stuttgart: Metzlersche
Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1978).
16. In his analysis of transformations in the East German crime genre, Manfred Jäger quotes GDR
scholars such as Hans Pfeifer and authors such as Ernst Kaemmel, who despised the genre and
584 German Studies Review  40 /3  • 2017

publicly charged it with negative connotations: “This was by no means the position of outsiders.
Rather, it was even published in 1962 in the monthly journal of the (East German) association
of authors ‘Neue Deutsche Literatur.’” See Manfred Jäger, “Zeitlassen beim Absterben. Die
Metamorphosen des DDR-Krimi” in Zur Aktualität des Kriminalromans, ed. Erhard Schütz
(Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 1978), 89.
17. Brecht, “Über die Popularität,” 504–510.
18. Jäger, “Zeitlassen beim Absterben,” 87.
19. Manfred Jäger analyzed this campaign in detail, stating the government’s ultimate goal: “It was
an arduous, tedious, and adventurous undertaking to provide the Krimi with a right to exist. And
until today, many arguments that were used for and against the crime novel in the GDR seem
really ridiculous” (86).
20. Dorothea Germer analyzes the Stasi’s intensive monitoring of authors and screenwriters. See
Dorothea Germer, Von Genossen und Gangstern—Zum Gesellschaftsbild in der Kriminalliteratur
der DDR und Ostdeutschlands von 1974–1994 (Essen: Die blaue Eule, 1998).
21. Jochen Kade, “‘Tatort’ und ‘Polizeiruf 110’: Biographien, Institutionen und Pädagogik zweier
Kriminalserien des Fernsehens in beiden deutscher [sic] Staaten,” in Tatort: Biographie—Spuren.
Zugänge. Orte. Ereignisse, ed. Imbke Behnken and Theodor Schulze (Opladen: Leske & Budrich,
1997), 136. Martin Schlesinger even goes as far as to call Polizeiruf a “Gegenkonzept zum Tatort”
(a counterconcept to Tatort). See Martin Schlesinger, “Tatort 110—Fahnder und Fährten des
deutsch-deutschen Fernsehfunks,” in Tatort Stadt—Mediale Topographien eines Fernsehklas-
sikers, ed. Julika Griem and Sebastian Scholz (Frankfurt am Main: Campus, 2010), 88.
22. Peter Hoff, Polizeiruf 110—Filme, Fälle, Fakten (Berlin: Das Neue Berlin, 2001), 28.
23. Among other characteristics, Hendrik Buhl describes the opportunity for German citizens of all
classes to actively participate in the decision making and the formation of political opinion, as
well as in the prevention of diverging tendencies in German society in favor of the commitment
to the democratic community as one of the key elements of öffentlich-rechtliche Aufklärung.
Hendrik Buhl, Tatort—Gesellschaftlichspolitische Themen in der Krimireihe (Munich: UVK,
2013), 19–23.
24. Peter Hoff defined the focus of early Polizeiruf 110 episodes as follows: “One could sense a
certain concern in the first couple of Polizeiruf episodes that the series might come close to an
authentic depiction of GDR reality. These cases are not precisely located geographically, and
culprits, victims as well as witnesses are only defined by their social background, rather than by
their geographical and sociocultural descent” (Hoff, Polizeiruf 110—Filme, Fälle, Fakten, 43).
25. Hoff, Polizeiruf 110—Filme, Fälle, Fakten, 27.
26. Knut Hickethier and Ronald Nabortzky emphasize the importance of unstoppable television
waves from the West, stating: “The politics of détente had not been able to eliminate fundamental
differences, and in the 1980s ideological polarization was still effected principally by the media.
Most of all, the ‘spill over’ transmission of West German television . . . programs into almost all
of the GDR presented East Germans with a view of a ‘better’ Federal Republic in contrast to the
reality of their situation.” Knut Hickethier, and Ronald Nabrotzky, “A Cultural Break or Perhaps
Things Didn’t Go That Far. Television in Germany: Commercialization, German Unification
and Europeanization,” in special issue on German media studies, New German Critique, no. 78
(1999): 55.
27. Short for TELeprinter EXchange, an analog network of teleprinters that allowed for the exchange
information via short text, very similar to the later, digital SMS service, but mostly used by
authorities.
28. Hoff, Polizeiruf 110—Filme, Fälle, Fakten, 26.
29. Peter Hoff analyzes the cultural threat from the West in detail throughout Polizeiruf 110—Filme,
Fälle, Fakten.
30. Stephen R. Bowers, “Law and Lawlessness in a Socialist Society: The Potential Impact of Crime
in East Germany,” World Affairs 145, no. 2 (1982): 158.
 Sascha Gerhards 585

31. Bowers, “Law and Lawlessness,” 153.

32. Peter von der Lippe, “The Political Role of Official Statistics in the former GDR (East Germany)”
Historische Sozialforschung 24, no. 4 (1999): 15.
33. Pedro Ramet, “Disaffection and Dissent in East Germany,” World Politics 37, no. 1 (1984): 90.
34. Kade, “Tatort und Polizeiruf 110,” 138.
35. See, for instance, the Ruhrgebiet Tatort episodes of the early 1980s, also starring Götz George
as Horst Schimanski, in many of which economic desperation leads to the crime.
36. Inoffizielle Mitarbeiter were commonly referred to as IMs in East Germany.
37. Stephen R. Bowers identified the primary task of those unofficial Stasi members: “The emphasis
of their work is on the prevention of crimes and the elimination of the causes and conditions
promoting crime outside the major cities” (167).
38. Jochen Kade suggests that although biographies and motivations change in Polizeiruf over the
years, the omnipotence of the police apparatus remains an integral part of the series well into
the 1980s.
39. For analysis of the detective’s function in the postwar West German crime genre, see: “The Krimi
and the Transformation of the Ruhrgebiet” in Sascha Gerhards, “Zeitgeist of Murder: The Krimi
and Social Transformation in post-1945 Germany,” (PhD diss., University of California, Davis,
2013), 161–199.
40. Peter Hoff substantiates on the programming: “The series dramaturgy intended to present a ‘good
mixture’ between serious, and other crimes. There also was a political reason for this: the GDR
was, by no means, to be depicted as a paradise for serious criminals” (76).
41. Dueck, “The Humanization,” 601.
42. Paul Cooke and Nicholas Hubble, “Die volkseigene Opposition? The Stasi and Alternative Culture
in the GDR,” German Politics 6, no. 2 (1997): 135.
43. For a more detailed analysis of the post-Wende debate on Stasi crimes and the political involvement
of the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit, see Paul Cooke, “Aufarbeitung oder Ästhetisierung? Die
Stasi-Vergangenheit in der Literatur: Wolfgang Hilbigs ‘Ich’,” in Die DDR—Politik und Ideologie
als Instrument, ed. Heiner Timmermann (Berlin: Dunker & Humblot, 1999), 859–871; Paul
Cooke, “From Opfer to Täter? Identity and the Stasi in Post-Wende East German Literature,”
Legacies and identity: East and West German literary responses to unification, ed. Martin Kane
(Oxford: Peter Lang, 2002), 51–66.
44. Katy A. Crossley-Frolick, “The Vetting of Former East German Police and Teachers in Saxony,
1990–1993,” German Studies Review 30, no. 1 (2007): 143.
45. Crossley-Frolick, “The Vetting,” 141–142.
46. Hoff, Polizeiruf 110—Filme, Fälle, Fakten, 189.
47. The avid Polizeiruf viewer would know that Fuchs has been a detective in the Polizeiruf series
from the very first episode on.
48. Cooke and Hubble, “Aufarbeitung oder Ästhetisierung,” 118. The Stasi files consist of almost
120 miles of shelves. By 1994, more than 1.85 million German citizens had requested access
to their personal file. Data from Joachim Gauck and Martin Fry, “Dealing with a Stasi Past,” in
“Germany in Transition,” special issue, Daedalus 123, no. 1 (1994): 281.
49. The series frequently reaches audience ratings of more than ten million (http://www.quotenmeter
.de).
50. Gauck and Fry, “Dealing with a Stasi Past,” 278.
51. Mary Beth Stein, “Stasi with a Human Face? Ambiguity in ‘Das Leben der Anderen,’” German
Studies Review 31, no. 3 (2008): 567.
52. For instance, Margot Honecker, former minister of people’s education and spouse of former gen-
eral secretary of the Central Committee of the Socialist Unity Party of Germany Erich Honecker
remained a fervid Socialist and Stalinist in exile in Chile until her death in May 2016.
53. Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno, “The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass
Deception” in Dialectic of Enlightenment (New York: Verso, 1997), 120–167.
586 German Studies Review  40 /3  • 2017

54. Martin Schlesinger identified a series of “Bild-Fälle” cases with powerful uses of images on the
Meta level—in “Unter Brüdern,” the collaborative episode “Quartett in Leipzig” (2000) and
its sequel “Rückspiel” (2002). See Martin Schlesinger, “Tatort 110–Fahnder und Fährten des
deutsch-deutschen Fernsehfunks,” 81–102.
55. “Witwe von ‘Tatort’-Ermittler weist Stasi-Vorwurf zurück,” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung,
December 17, 2014, http://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/medien/witwe-tatort-ermittler-eberhard
-feik-war-nicht-bei-stasi-13327195.html.
56. “Ex-Partner von Schimanski war DDR-Spion,” Handelsblatt, December 16, 2014, http://www
.handelsblatt.com/panorama/kultur-kunstmarkt/tatort-ex-partner-von-schimanski-war-ddr
-spion/11126736.html.
57. See, for instance, Rüdiger Dingemann, Tatort—Das Lexikon (Munich: Knaur, 2010); Tina Welke,
Die Tatort-Folge “Quartett in Leipzig” als gesamtdeutscher Tatort. Analyse einer inszenierten
deutsch-deutsch Annäherung (Radolfzell: Gesprächsforschung, 2005); Tina Welke, Tatort
Deutsche Einheit: Ostdeutsche Identitätsinszenierung im »Tatort« des MDR (Bielefeld: transcript,
2012).
58. Good Bye, Lenin! has been commonly identified as the onset of the Ostalgie wave in Germany.