Katja Hoyer on Weimar, the GDR, and the German Character

Conversations with Tyler is produced by the Mercatus Center at George Mason University, bridging the gap between academic ideas and real-world problems. Learn more at mercatus.org. For a full transcript of every conversation enhanced with helpful links, visit conversationswithtyler.com. Hello everyone, and welcome back to Conversations with Tyler. Today I'm chatting with Katja Hoyer. She just published a new and very interesting book called Weimar: Life on the Edge of Catastrophe. She's well known for her history of East Germany called Beyond the Wall and a broader book on earlier German history called Blood and Iron: The Rise and Fall of the German Empire. Katja, welcome.

Thank you.

Let me start with East Germany more generally. Why was it that communism seems to have made the Poles and Romanians more anti-communist, but it made the East Germans overall more communist?

Do you refer to the time afterwards or during the time that the GDR was kind of going?

Well, both actually. Right. So Poland really quite has rebelled against communist ideals and it was pretty unpopular at the time. In, say, the 1970s and '80s, the Dadaist art had a reputation of of being relatively loyal within the Soviet Empire. There's a lot of residual communist or sometimes fascist sympathies there today. So both.

Yeah, no, I think during the time there was certainly a kind of, I wouldn't say rumor, but certainly the story was going around that this was a very German thing, basically this compliance with the state, that if there's a rule, you stick to it. And that was something that was so instilled in the German mindset already because of the previous forms of autocratic regimes that people had gone through, particularly the 12 years of Nazism and then coming out of that into another form of dictatorship. There wasn't really a time in between where people were kind of used to a more democratic way of thinking. So there is a line of thinking that says that this was kind of instilled in generations of Germans already at that point without any break. I think also if you look more widely at German culture, there's a really strong adherence to rules and order and discipline. And that sounds like a bit of a cliché, but I think there's something to that. So yes, you're right. I mean, when I talk to people from from other kind of former satellite states, you know, people from the Soviet Union or from Poland or from Hungary, they always kind of said that there was the stereotype about East Germans being kind of the most hardcore communist state because there wasn't a layer underneath the state where people kind of just went on and did their own thing as there was, there's a long tradition of that, for example, in Poland where they have this conspirazia kind of concept where basically, you know, society has another layer underneath the state and that just doesn't exist in Germany.

Before the wall came down, happy or unhappy do you think East Germans were?

I think it completely depends who you ask. I mean, I interviewed lots of people for my book. I also was just about still born in East Germany myself in 1985, so, you know, talking to family members, to friends over the years. I think so long as you were happy to live a reasonably kind of quiet, humble life, as it were, so you were happy and content to have your job, go on holiday, get married, kind of live your family life, you did have a reasonable quality of life because just the living standards were higher than in all of the other communist state. So, you know, people didn't starve, they didn't lack things as such. But the moment you tried to diverge from the path that was sort of, you know, dictated to you, that's when you really very quickly discovered that you did live in a dictatorship and there wasn't a way out of that. So the Stasi, the secret police in particular, had means of making your life absolute hell. And there was even a concept, they called this Zerstreuung, which kind of means to almost dissolve your, your life, where they would really attack even your social structures, your relationships and everything. And so, you know, depending on who you are, basically you get very different stories about what it was like to live there, even right up to the fall of the Berlin Wall.

I was in East Berlin for a day, only a single day, in 1984. And it seemed to me as a naive, distant observer that everyone was incredibly stressed and fearful. No one would talk to me. Old ladies would yell at me in the street in German. There was nothing in the stores that I could spend my 35 marks on. I had to change money. Was that a mistaken impression? What's the other side that I didn't see? Or is that correct and the other side is also correct?

Well, I think they are probably all correct in the sense that, as I was just saying, you will find people in East Germany who will confirm that view and who will say, yes, that's exactly what it was like. I think partially the issue is that I presume you went to East Berlin rather than venturing further. I feel that's always part of the story and people say it was so grey and there was always concrete and nothing going on. I think if you'd gone to, say, a village or a town somewhere where people lived a kind of different life, that would have given you a slightly different impression as such. But of course there were shortages and people do you know, talk about having to kind of make do, find. So say if your car broke down and you needed like a replacement part for something, you needed connections to try and get that. You needed to find a way of getting hold of things. But nonetheless, you know, people, you wouldn't have gone, say, to the Baltic Sea to see people on holiday, or to, you know, a factory and see people working in there with their colleagues, or to observe a football match or whatever. Kind of these day-to-day things that made people's lives, filled them basically with life, with friendship, with colleagues and so on. So I think there is a bit more nuance than that to it.

What was the best literary creation from East Germany?

I wouldn't necessarily point to one single thing. I was quite struck when I was researching this that artists did take a fair amount of freedom from the state back and basically did write literature, even those that seemed quite close to the state, that was quite critical. So if you take Christa Wolf, for example, who wrote a famous book called Divided Heaven, which was also translated and also a huge bestseller also in West Germany, that's highly critical of the Berlin Wall, of the way that lives were quite often ruined or split by this, and yet it became a bestseller in the GDR as well. So I would say kind of overall the corpus of literature is well worth looking at because people lived in a dictatorship in a different world and tried to find ways of expressing that even though the censorship was in place. So I would say rather than reading one specific work, you know, to try and read maybe 4 or 5 different things and get a kind of cross-section of what was going on at the time. Christa Wolf being one of them, although she's a difficult read as well. It's not something to sort of easily get through. Kai Mann is a very good reader. I find her books, again, try and be— they are openly critical of the state, but at the same time, she was also somebody who did well for herself in the GDR. So that nuance again is kind of coming through quite well there.

Oliver Johnson is good. Speculations Over Jakub.

I haven't read that, to be honest, so I can't talk.

That's a great book. Yeah. The movie Goodbye Lenin, it's very famous in the United States. Portrayal of East Germany? How accurate is it?

I think it toys with the idea of nostalgia quite well. You know, this kind of idea that people struggled with the transition from one system to the other. So, you know, just briefly for those who haven't seen it, the premise is that you have a mother falling into a coma just before the fall of the Berlin Wall, and then she's not to be disturbed afterwards. The doctors are worried, and so her son basically tries to recreate this illusion that the Berlin Wall hadn't actually fallen. And that is done in a kind of tragicomical way that I think encapsulated the experience quite well. Most people were happy, they were euphoric, they wanted reunification, but they were also worried about losing their entire way of life, the world around them, and especially that insecurity of not knowing what was coming next. I think that really describes the zeitgeist of the era quite well. So I think it's done a decent job in encapsulating that.

Is it an accident that the painters Richter and Polke came from the East, or were there undercurrents of creativity there? Where it's in retrospect, not at all surprising that they came from East Germany.

No, I don't think it is surprising. I mean, you do have a system where when you speak to artists, again, you get very different views. Some people say it was absolutely oppressive and they had to get out. And that's often creatives who will tell you that because by definition, they were the most exposed kind of trying to do their own thing to censorship and to state oppression. But at the same time, the state also spent a lot of money on arts and literature and culture and film and things like that. So there were also artists who said that there was a degree of freedom in sort of being given the means to do these things, to not have to worry about the day-to-day kind of financial concerns that artists are often exposed to. And that in itself kind of set the parameters, the economic parameters for some people to work relatively freely, particularly in theatre. You kind of hear that a lot, that because of the amount of money that was spent by the state, that gave a degree of freedom. And then I also think just the sheer experience of living in a dictatorship of being surrounded by the constraints of that, by having to work around censorship, you have to find quite clever ways of expressing yourself in a different way, I think, that people do in freer societies. So I don't think it is surprising as such that you get kind of a different type of creativity coming from those sorts of systems.

The nudity cult from East Germany, FKK, why is that so strong and it catches on, but there's also this extreme prudishness to communism. How did that picture fit together?

Yeah, that's a very good question. I've been pondering that myself, uh, for quite some time. I mean, the, the whole, like, FKK, the kind of free body culture— I don't know what, how it's actually translated into English— but this kind of nudist culture is actually much older than East Germany. I mean, it's something that came out of the 19th century. And again, you could ask the same question there. You have a kind of very prudish conservative society that develops this kind of culture. And I think in part it is a counterculture to that. So the idea that this comes out of the people themselves and is an expression of people's freedom, you know, this feeling of kind of just jumping into the ocean naked, being surrounded by nature, that, you know, being together with others, that stripping of clothes means stripping off class boundaries, of politics, of culture in a way, and everyone looks and is the same. I think that's partially the appeal of that, particularly there. And on top of that, I mean, it's just a pragmatic reason, but the Baltic Sea was in the East largely, most of it. And so kind of the nicer stretch of Germany's coastline, just in terms of developing any kind of beach culture really, was in the former GDR. And therefore you you know, naturally have kind of the landscape that lends itself to that. There's a bit of that in the West as well. So when you go to certain areas in— so say, for instance, the Englischer Garten in Munich is quite famous even today. Sometimes you see kind of people sunbathing in the nude or topless there because there are sort of pockets of that, but it's never that mass movement that it is in the East. And I think that comes out of those two factors that I just explained.

If you were to make the case that the rule of Angela Merkel was in some significant way influenced by her East German background. Do you think that's true? Is there a case to be made there? And if so, what is it?

Well, she tried very hard for that not to be the case. So she was asked, you know, after her 16 years in power, why weren't you a more kind of East German type of chancellor? Why weren't you overtly East German? And she initially always said, well, I want to be the chancellor of all Germans. So if I'd been overtly kind of from the GDR, I would have lost people in Bavaria and other parts of Germany who would have felt sort culturally alienated by that. But she also admitted later on after she retired that there was an element there of people kind of rolling their eyes and saying, why do you have to talk about the East? Or why do you have to start talking about the East all the time? And she tried to avoid that and was very conscious, I think, of not coming across like that. And there was one speech which I mentioned in the book as well, where in 2021, it was her sort of last big speech in office, she actually talked about her experiences in East Germany and said, you know, people always described this as a kind of dark past that she had to struggle off or get rid of, in a way, her time in the GDR. And she bristled against that and said, look, this is 35 years of my life. I had experience there. It's literally half of my life that you're expecting me to forget or to somehow overcome. So I think it was there. She always also claimed that this made it easier for her to deal with the Russians because she spoke Russian and, you know, had sort of experienced the same system in her youth and sort of knew what it was like. So there was always an argument there that she said balancing out kind of her very transatlantic outlook. She was a huge sort of fan of German-American relations as well. But balancing that out with an Eastern outlook, she said, was easier for her because of her background. And then lastly, if I may, I think the fact that she was the first female chancellor, and to this date the only one, that was easier for her because she'd already got used to working in a way. In East Germany, over 90% of women were in full-time employment, and they become a part of the workforce in a less obviously feminist way and a more kind of obvious you know, normal, natural way. So dealing with men in your work area, I think, was a more normal thing in the East than it was in the West at this point. And so for her to go into the still quite stuffy male environment in Bonn, in the West German capital, and deal with kind of her new colleagues in politics, I think, was easier for her than it would have been for a woman for whom that hadn't been already kind of a normal way of working.

Do you think she was too self-consciously aware of the need to be accepted by a largely West German establishment?

She was certainly aware of that. She talks about that in her biography as well, in kind of later interviews. So it's certainly something that was going around her mind. But as I say, not in an obvious kind of way, you know, in the way that, say, as a feminist, you'd go in and you deliberately kind of try and rail against what you would see as a sort of male environment. I don't think it was that, that she went in there as an East German and said, 'I'm facing a West German establishment here, I need to be particularly aware of this.' I think it was almost like she was trying to to blend into that a bit more, to scale down her East German-ness and to try and basically adapt to the culture that she found rather than providing an obvious counterpoint to that.

There's a common claim, I don't know how true it is, but that many East Germans still today are somewhat resentful or upset because they feel pushed out of leadership positions in business, in culture, in media, often in politics. Do you think that's true?

Well, it's not just subjective, the figures point to that. I haven't got the exact figure in my mind now, but there was a book that came out at the same time Mine by Dirk Oschmann called Der Osten ist eine Erfindung des Westens, like the East is an invention of the West, in which he brings out some really quite stark figures. And one of them is something like 1.4% or so of leadership positions across the board, kind of politics, economics, everything, are occupied by East Germans. And given that East Germans make up about a fifth of the population, that's astonishingly low. So this isn't just a subjective kind of feeling that, that East Germans have. They are genuinely not part of the conversation in proportion to the amount of people that they provide in society.

But why is that? The schooling was very good in East Germany, right?

Yeah, but I mean, take something like networking. I mean, I didn't realize that much later, but even I having kind of, as I say, I was a child when the Berlin Wall fell, and then I went to university in the former East. All of my professors were West German because by that point they'd sort of purged the entire academic class, if you will. And I only went to university in the early 2000s. And you go there and they bring their own staff with them, they have a certain way talking to students. They expect you to know these things when you start kind of networking yourself. I didn't even have a concept of networking in my mind because that sort of type of careerism, of pushing, of ambition just didn't exist in the culture that I grew up in. You were kind of just told what to do really, and then climbing a certain ladder that was provided for you, but you had no idea how to do these things yourself. And so that means that things like scholarships, you have no idea how they work. You don't really sound and look like the people that you're trying to impress. And so effectively, other people get given positions that you didn't even know how to sort of vie or compete for. And I think that's a more subtle way of thinking about it. And the other thing I would say is, because of kind of over 40 years of socialism, you have a very working-class orientated culture. People don't have wealth built up, and all of these figures exist as well. Basically, East Germans are a lot less kind of economically secure, and as a result of that, you fewer risks as well. So if you're sitting there wondering, should I do a PhD or not, for example, and you think that's 3 years of not really having an income, I don't really know how to do that, and you haven't got a family that can back you up, you haven't got a house to live in no matter what because it doesn't belong to you, those kinds of things also mean that people tend to make the safe option and go with, you know, with the easy kind of way forward with earning an income if there's any doubt over that. And all of these things, I think class differences and so on, I don't think people were aware what that would do. To society. So I don't think there's a deliberate conspiracy to keep East Germans out as such. I think it's just a question of those hidden structures underneath society still being there.

Put aside accent. If you meet someone today, do you have a good sense of whether they're East German or West German?

Uh, some people, yes. I mean, I certainly realize when I go back now— I've lived in Britain for quite a long time now, and so I've got a bit of distance— but when I go back to East Germany, I immediately feel I know how to talk to people. You know the types of people that you encounter, even if it's somebody that you'd never met before, because you recognize from your own experience growing up in the East, you know, what these people are basically like and what types exist and how to talk to them. So say, for example, talking in an accent or in a local dialect is still much more common, I would say, in the East, because it wasn't seen as a mark of your social standing. Quite the contrary. Politicians would even speak with with kind of regional dialects and accents, whilst in the West it's a sort of marker of your middle or upper class status if you can switch to High German when required in formal situations. That marks you out as somebody who's kind of well-educated, well-read, and so on, and it's seen as something that you have to learn, whilst in the East we never did. I found that out again the hard way when you go to university, and then suddenly I had a really broad Berlin accent when I grew up. And so going to university somewhere else quite far away— I've studied in Jena, which is about 2-3 hours away from Berlin— and suddenly you've got these Bavarian professors who think it's hilarious that you speak in a Berlin accent. That wouldn't have happened to a West Berliner who might have been able to switch to High German more easily. So these differences still exist. Growing up, my parents both worked. That was quite unusual in West Germany still, that the mothers worked when they had young children. And so you grow up in a different way. You know, you come home from school when you're sort of 6, 7, cook your own food, do your own homework, go shopping, take over responsibility, that kind of thing more early. So culturally, there's a difference still between East and West for those sort for lots of reasons. Well, and I could give you 100 other examples, but there are still differences between East and West Germans in those kind of subtle ways.

Why have so few mothers in West Germany worked over previous decades? If you compare it to the rest of Western Europe, it's still often a marked difference.

I think people often forget that, but it was a really, really, really conservative society. That's partially, I think, because suddenly— so Germany is a kind of Protestant and Catholic country because of the way that the Reformation kind of worked out. You got the northern part being Protestant largely, in the south Catholic. And then suddenly when you split Germany in the way that happened after the Second World War, you ended up with a 50-50 ratio of Catholics to Protestants in West Germany. So that's much higher than any other kind of Germany that's ever existed in terms of the Catholic proportion. And they were socially more conservative and placed emphasis on things like family values, raising children at home in a, in quite a conservative way. My mum said in the '90s when she went on a kind of course, on a further education course in the West, and then she said in the evening, you know, I just got to call home quickly and make sure that my children are okay. And then they said, well, how old are they? And she said, well, one of them is a baby, the other one's sort of 5 or 6. That was me, the 5, 6-year-old. And there were these kind of old West German professors, and they all looked at her aghast, like, why are you here, you know, kind of miles away, hundreds of miles away from home, when you've got two small children at home? What are you like? And this kind of difference there, I think, is partially comes out of this West German society being socially very, very conservative for a long time and led by conservative leaders for most of their time as well, until you get to sort of Willy Brandt and Helmut Schmidt in the '70s as more left-leaning, more progressive leaders who break up these structures a little bit.

Turning to Weimar, how much do West Germans today still care about Goethe and Weimar? So right after the Wall comes down, it's a big thing to go visit the East, go around, see everything that was was much harder to see before. Is that still alive? Is Goethe something in people's minds that's discussed or shared?

Oh, yeah, hugely. I mean, Goethe, I would say, is still the national poet. I would say he's comparable to the position that Shakespeare has in Britain. So he's that figure. He's the national poet, I would say, still. So you learn at school, you have to recite his poetry, you analyze the ballads and his work and Faust and all the rest of it. So he is big on the literary horizon, I I would say of all Germans everywhere, because you do encounter them at school. I find it very hard to imagine that anyone in Germany goes to their school education without being exposed to Goethe in some way. And then if you're in Weimar, I spend a lot of time there now researching for my latest book, you see the type of tourism is very different from other parts of Germany in that you do get a lot of people from West Germany there. You can hear different accents, you can hear people from Bavaria and Swabia and from the Rhine region. So there is that tourism, I think similar to Dresden as well, which has got a similar kind of standing as an all-German culture place. The same, I would say, applies to Weimar as well, where people still come to hail these literary heroes. And it's not just Goethe. I mean, you've got Beethoven and Liszt and Nietzsche. You have Bach.

You have Nietzsche, right? You have Bauhaus, Marlene Dietrich. Absolutely. Milan was there.

Yeah, it is a very, very cultural place. It's a great spot place.

It's not even 100,000 people. It looks fine, but it's not especially beautiful. Why is it attracting all these people, these incredible thinkers and creators?

I mean, it is a lovely place. It is a very cozy little— imagine your typical German idyllic German city, and it's pretty much there. It has got the timber-framed houses and the villas and the cobbled streets and things. But you're right, that doesn't explain why it's had this kind of elevated position in German culture. I mean, partially it is because Jena, the University of Jena, where I studied as well, is one of the oldest German universities, and that's not far from from there. That's sort of almost next door in Jena itself, which is about a 15-minute or so train ride away. So that attracted people like Schiller, for example, who was friends with Goethe and also a very famous German poet. He was a professor at the University of Jena and then went and visited Goethe, who lived in, in Weimar. So it's, it's had that kind of attraction of being nearby. And then it was also a royal residence of the dukes, basically, in different incarnations of it because of Germany's fragmented history. But basically it has a blossom— a palace in Weimar, and various gardens and pleasure gardens and that kind of thing as well, because it was always a royal residence town. And that gives a place kind of the political importance as well over time, which means, you know, kind of representative buildings are being built and so on, and it becomes quite a prestigious place for, for that reason as well. And when Goethe moved there, and then suddenly, you know, Goethe shot to his fame as he did— he was the theater director there for a long time and then died in Weimar, so it became a bit of a Goethe shrine—

it sort of elevated that even further, that How much of a spa town was it?

I wouldn't say it's a classic spa town, but it is a town for kind of wealthy cultural retirees. So if you're like an old general and you want to kind of spend your last years somewhere prestigious, somewhere where there's still a bit of culture going on, that's more of a thing, I would say. Conferences have always taken place there, like meetings. If you wanted a kind of more prestigious place, if you wanted to say, we're discussing something important here, then Weimar was always a place where people would meet. It's also central, it's right in the heart of Germany. Again, whichever incarnation of Germany you look at, it always ends up being pretty much right in the middle. It's about halfway between Munich and Hamburg. So for that reason alone, it ended up being kind of quite a popular place for people to, to go to, to visit, to meet up, you know. And accumulatively, I would say that gave Weimar quite a, a large standing on the sort of firmament of, of German culture.

Why were relatively few Jews attracted to Weimar over the years? Again, pre-Nazi time, of course.

When I lived in Jena and then you travel abroad, people say, so where in Germany do you live? There's no other France point out no urban centers. Basically, you have to say what I just said, oh, about halfway between Munich and Hamburg. Same with Frankfurt, you know, there are no urban centers. And because the vast majority of German Jews lived in urban regions, particularly of course Berlin, but also Frankfurt and Hamburg, Munich, and so on, and there just isn't a large urban conglomeration anywhere nearby. So it just doesn't have that sort of the traditional areas that German Jews were involved with, things like culture, banking, finances, you know, that kind of thing, kind of the higher middle class, the professions, there just wasn't much along those lines in Weimar. So the time that I'm looking at in my book, between the two world wars, you have about 100 Jews in a town of about 35,000 people. So it's a tiny population. They're largely people like shopkeepers, and one runs a department store, one family in Weimar, that kind of thing. But, you know, it is a small town, and that's, I think, partially why that's the case.

If you're trying to talk an American into visiting Weimar, say they don't know German, They don't have German heritage. Is there a case you would make or are they just not going to grok what's going on there?

I would definitely make a case. I mean, as I say, I just spent a whole, like, years basically researching this because it is so crucial to understanding Germany. I think you get a good handle on what Germany is if you go to Weimar and that's across different centuries. So you do have this sort of cultural legacy we just discussed that really isn't just at the time when Goethe is there, but because Goethe's legacy lasts for so long and you gets sort of reinterpreted by every incarnation of kind of Germany that comes afterwards. Even today still, he's kind of more seen as a humanist or someone who's into the European idea. You know, every generation of Germans takes something new out of Goethe. So to understand that, again, it makes sense to go there. And then of course, it was where the Weimar Republic was founded. So in terms of the 20th century and understanding that, there's a very good case— this is why I chose to place my book there as well— there's a very good case of going to Weimar to see both kind of the ambitions of the nation and where they unfolded after the First World War, as well as the fall of those ideals because you have the Buchenwald concentration camp just on its doorstep as well. And to see that side by side, I think, is really quite enlightening in lots of ways to see kind of the high ambition of the era as well as the fall of those ideals.

During the Holocaust, how much were citizens of Weimar aware of what was going on at Buchenwald? They would've seen the smoke come up, right? There were all kinds of provisions and supply contracts for something.

Yeah, no, that's absolutely right. This is one of the questions that really occupied my mind whilst I was researching this as well, because it's so close, you know, and people still walked up there. My main guy, who I kind of use as a bit of a protagonist in the book, he's a shopkeeper. He has a stationery shop right in the town center, and he still goes up the hill where the concentration camp is to go hiking and sledging because it was a popular kind kind of forest area before the concentration camp was put there. And people carry on. And he even writes in his diary at one point, oh, I can't even go hiking properly anymore because of the stupid concentration camp, because the, you know, some of the walking kind of routes were cut off because there were fences and things now. So people definitely know it's there. The prisoners— it never gets its own train station, so the prisoners who get taken there arrive at Weimar train station, very public place with a huge square in front of it, and they are gathered there and then put onto lorries to be taken up the hill to the camp. So people can them rounded up. I found various testimonies where people said, you know, there was always this excitement when a new Jew transport, as people called it, arrived, and they would all rush to the station to see that and just to observe it and to gawp, effectively. So people did know what it was and what it did. I don't think that meant they understood the actual horrors that were going on there. They did realize, obviously, that people were dying there, and they saw the— initially it didn't have its own crematorium, so people were still sort of transported, the bodies were transported down the hill again and into the Weimar crematorium, which is in the town center. So people did know that, that there was a large amount of deaths going on there as well. But I don't think that that meant kind of really visualizing the absolute sheer horror, the torture, the imprisonment, that kind of stuff. Because Weimarers do get taken there when the Americans occupy Weimar at the end of the war, and they decide to show the population kind of what they'd tolerated, what they'd stood by and watched happen. And there's genuine shock there when they go up and they see the actual reality of what was going on there, because I don't think the human mind was even capable of visualizing that if you hadn't actually seen it.

And the people who worked there didn't talk, or they told a false story, or they were self-deceiving? What do you think?

Well, a lot of them actually lived on site, so they had barracks built for the SS. And so they, yes, they did come into town to drink and to shop and so on, but they didn't actually live in Weimar, a lot of them. And I think that helped keep that a secret. And then the other thing is that they quite often— Nazis were quite open about this. I mean, they wanted the terror of this to really seep into German society. So they had tours. For example, there's one instance that I found where a German-American group who'd come over to sort of see Nazi and tour Nazi Germany, they were taken up to Buchenwald and shown around. So they would sort of tidy up the camp, they'd only show them certain bits of it. So I think it was always a gray area between allowing some of this horror to dissipate so that it would work as terror and it would work in subduing the population, but never enough to really create some sort of public outrage or demonstration or anything like that. So it's a bit of a gray area there in terms of, you know, the, the actual details that people know. But they certainly do know what this camp is and what it's for, not least because it's so closely tied to the town as well. So for example, when later on when the crematorium actually breaks because they put too many bodies in there. The bodies are emaciated, it doesn't work properly. The, the Weimar Town Council sits down and decides to buy a new crematorium, and they're discussing why the old one is broken with the engineers, and they tell them it's because the bodies are unusually emaciated, is because it's not supposed to function at the high rate that you're using it. So they're very well aware of what they're discussing there, and these are Weimar civilian politicians who are basically sitting in the Town Council deciding to buy a new crematorium oven because the old one can't cope with the amount of bodies that they're putting through it.

Why did the Weimar Constitution fail?

How much time have I got?

Americans typically think it's that the proportional representation system allowed too many small parties to enter into government, and that's one factor. But what else is there?

There are plenty of factors, I think. I mean, some of these are inbuilt flaws, like the proportional representation that you just mentioned. Another one that's often referred to Article 48, which was a kind of emergency article that was in the constitution that allowed the president to bypass parliament and the other democratic structures in time of emergency. But if you just follow down this route, then the fall of the Weimar Republic becomes inevitable, right? If you're just assuming that there were all these flaws in the constitution already, so therefore it was bound to fail. And I don't think that is the case. Because when you study this closely, you do see all these kinds of forks in the road as to where things could have done differently. And I don't think the system was set up to fail. I think these things contributed to the brittle nature of this. And I think there was perhaps a degree of naivety there in 1919 to think that you could have this ultra-democratic system without any guardrails. I mean, when you think how long it took, you know, the American Founding Fathers to sort of sit there and really work out every angle and what if we got a mad president, what do we put in there to try and protect against that, those sorts of things. That process is so rushed in 1919 that they just put an ultra-liberal democracy in place which allows kind of extremists to hijack it. So that is part of the reason. I think the other kind of group of reasons is the circumstances under which the system is born. It's basically born into crisis. It comes on the back of the First World War and then runs into economic trouble very quickly. That never really goes away despite the so-called Gilded Years in the middle. But all of that is propped up by American money, even the, the kind of stability years of the or 1920s. And the moment that falls because of the Wall Street crash, you basically get the very economic foundation taken away again. I mean, the subtitle I chose for the book, Life on the Edge of Catastrophe, I'm trying to hint at the fact that that's how a lot of people felt. They were kind of literally balancing constantly for this entire time, really, after 1919, on the edge of their own personal catastrophes. It was always unemployment, hyperinflation, trying to get enough food. People were dying of diseases. There's the Spanish flu, there's tuberculosis, doses. It's always something or other, and people don't feel that the system is giving them stability. So I don't think there ever really is a feeling that this can really kind of work long term, and people do at the slightest whim kind of think, oh, maybe we just need to go back to a system where someone makes the decisions. So the Weimar Republic actually dies in 1930, 3 years before Hitler comes into power as a democracy, and he takes over a system I think that's already given up on being a democracy even at that point. But as I say, I could talk about this for 2 days and still be lining up factors, so it is complex.

And the army is interfering in politics quite early and pretty frequently.

Yeah, I mean, they still think that because of the nature of, you know, the Prussian system previously, it's often been said that Prussia isn't or wasn't a state with an army, but it was an army with a state, you know. And that kind of intrinsic self-confidence, if you want to call it that, of the army, that they are kind of really calling the shots. That doesn't really go away. People also often forget that in the First World War, you have the so-called Silent Dictatorship, which is basically the army running absolutely everything under Hindenburg's system, from the economy and culture to, you know, newspaper output and everything else. Again, that they don't just suddenly turn that off in 1919. So they do try and make their influence heard ongoingly. And then the young Weimar Republic has to make a pact with the military because they defend them effectively against communism. Communist and also right-wing putschers. And so they kind of depend on the military in that way as well for security. They do try and build up a new military, but they never go Stalin-style and purge everybody who was there previously. They keep the existing elites largely in place, so they inherit an army that isn't loyal to them, that's still loyal to the old system.

Now, as you mentioned, there's this cliché that Prussia has been especially militaristic There's also the observation that Hitler often had his strongest support in South Germany. How does all that fit together? Both the North and the South are especially militaristic, or?

Yeah, I mean, being coming from that part of Germany myself, that was sort of the Prussian heartlands. I grew up just outside of Berlin. That often annoys me that people still sort of think, well, if only Prussia hadn't been there, then you would've had some sort of lovely Catholic-dominated, more civilian-type Germany. I think that fails to acknowledge the fact that Prussia Prussia also was quite liberal. It's, it's a real hub of social democracy, actually, in the Weimar Republic, which is the reason why the first time it gets abolished, it's by the Nazis. They get rid of kind of Prussia, if you will, because the idea was that it was so left-leaning and so dominated by social democracy that they have to get rid of it. So it gets even more complicated than kind of Northern Prussian militarism, and, and then the South comes in with this kind of cultural contributions to Nazism. I think the other thing is that you do have such a splintered system that it allows the Nazis to build little islands of support, and the central state can't do very much about that. So if the Bavarian state decides that actually they want to allow, say, the Nazi Party to reform after Hitler comes out of prison, and they want to allow him to speak again, or even in 1923, it's partially the Bavarian elites who are plotting against the central state in Berlin as well, then the authority is just not there from Berlin to try and impose anything else on Bavaria. There's separatism everywhere. So even when Hitler Hitler tries a coup in 1923, and then everywhere the Nazi Party gets banned, individual states and regions slowly start lifting those bans again, and the central government can't do much about that. And that's partially the reason why in Weimar the Nazis also relaunched their movement, because the Thuringian government— the state around Weimar is Thuringia— and they also allow the Nazis basically to rebuild from there because there's local sympathy for that. And I think it's that fractured nature of the German state that is the answer, I suppose, to your And all the parts contribute to the Nazis being able to build their movement.

And what about the towns on the sea? You know, Königsberg, Rostock, Wismar, smaller place, but were they more cosmopolitan or not really?

No, I mean, certainly not the East Prussian ones. So like Königsberg and that kind of entire region along the Baltic coast, that was where some of the most staunch support for Nazism was. They had grievances because of the settlement after the First World War, where Poland is founded as an independent state. Late after the First World War, is given access to the sea. And so you end up with a part of Germany, East Prussia, being split off from the rest of Germany, and that creates a lot of grievance and very staunch support for Hitler there, when Hitler basically promises to undo all of that and reunite all of these parts of Germany into one kind of block state again. So they're not as such averse to Nazism at all. They basically think that Hitler is restoring kind of the old Germany as was before the First World War.

So if you had written the Treaty of Versailles, what would you have done differently?

It's always, in hindsight, I think, is always a bit much to sit there as an armchair politician and say, 'This is what I would have done differently.' I think it's the worst of both worlds. It's harsh enough to give Germany grievance, to make it feel like it's punished alone for the First World War, particularly the Article 231 that gives it the war blame basically and says, 'It's your fault and your fault alone.' This is something thing that unites bizarrely all of these fractured political movements in Germany. So even Social Democrats find that unfair. And so that, I think, builds grievance. But on the other side, it wasn't harsh enough to subdue Germany. It wasn't split up. It was still a whole state. It was still powerful enough to do something with that grievance. So I think in a way it would have made more sense to go either way or the other, either make it even harsher and basically create weak Germany in, in Central Europe, or go the other way and rebuild from the beginning, as was the strategy after the Second World War. So this is interesting, the lesson that they draw from that is after the Second World War there is no reparations sum as such that is slapped onto Germany. They basically just say let's just take out what's actually there and then start rebuilding Germany because of the Cold War. But this means that there's now this, you know, quite close relationship between western parts of Germany and the US and Britain and France in particular. Hitler, because they very quickly began to see them as allies. So I would say a decision just had to be made either way. This compromise treaty, I think, is, is part of the problem.

And why, in your view, does antisemitism so take off in Germany? Because earlier in history, sometimes Jews would go to Germany for a better life, or it was not obviously worse than many other places, though there was always plenty of antisemitism there. But how and why did it explode?

Yeah, that's a very good question because you do see it, you know, across Europe. And even in the 1920s, you still get an influx of Jews to Germany from the East because they find much harsher conditions there in many states. So for example, I saw that, that there were lots of people at Munich University who were complaining that suddenly lots of Hungarian Jews would kind of turn up and enroll at the university because they introduced, you know, quota for Jewish Hungarians at their universities. So even then, there's still a degree of tolerance there. I think partially it's because antisemitism tends to always be a symptom of a society in crisis. Kind of the worse it gets, the worse antisemitism gets. So that's partially, I think, an explanation for that, is that particularly because it's economic grievances, people then look for scapegoats for the Great Depression, but also hyperinflation. And they see that the Jewish Germans who are largely in middle-class and upper-class kind of social environments, Germans, that they are still doing reasonably well for themselves. And so, you know, this kind of narrative of they're exploiting the poverty of the others is particularly easy to exploit in a situation like that. And then there's also— I mean, a journalist put it quite well recently for— on a different reason, but he said, to be German means to walk down every cul-de-sac to the end. And so, you know, the idea that there's antisemitism already latent in society, that it becomes Hitler's own obsession— people are working towards the Führer, as Ian Kershaw, the historian, about it, you know, they're kind of finding more and more extreme ways of dealing with things that are already latent in society. And the system that Hitler sets up allows this to happen. So rather than saying, you know, you sit there with your anti-Semitic grievances and prejudices in your head, or you talk about it in the pub, somebody will say, why don't we do something about it? Because that's what Hitler wants. And then they need to be heard amongst the field of competitors, and they find the most radical and the most extreme solution. And take that forward. And this is something that spirals very quickly out of control. I mean, most historians now agree that there wasn't a master plan that led to Auschwitz, basically, in the 1920s within the Nazi movement, despite the rhetoric that you see there. It's bit by bit, the escalation that you see is due to the radicalism of the Nazi movement and the way that people follow orders and go along with it.

And to what extent did people think it was weird that you had a highly nationalistic movement, but it's led by an Austrian with a very bizarre accent.

Yeah, I mean, that is certainly an aspect of this. I described that a bit in my book as well, because Hitler didn't even have citizenship, German citizenship, when he wanted to become president in 1932. He stood for the election then against Hindenburg. He actually needed to become a German citizen very quickly so that he could even exercise his passive electoral rights, and that was a problem. So they— all the Nazi leaders were falling over themselves to try and find a way of giving him citizenship. It's certainly not something that's automatically there. He himself always argued that he always felt German. He was from the far western part of Austria by the German border where he sort of was born and where he grew up, in Braunau am Inn, which is literally just the other side of the border. So he argued that actually his accent is Bavarian, and it does have that, you know, because it is so close to the German borders. It's that sort of, you know, being Catholic, being Alpine, being from that region. It's not an obvious distinction, I would say, in the way that people think think of it now. And then people also forget that in Austria there was a huge movement in the 1920s because Austria was basically— after the First World War, it was split from its own empire and it became the small German-Austrian rump state, and it suddenly feared for its own existence and survival because it was so small, having previously been an empire. And so there's a huge movement, even from left-leaning and progressive Austrians, towards a unification process with Germany in the 1920s, which is forbidden in the Treaty of Versailles. So they're not allowed to do that, but the movement exists. And so it's not an unnatural position for Hitler to say— well, he's certainly not alone in that— for Hitler to say, actually, I'm German, we're all Germans because we're Austrians and we should be part of this. Look at the 19th century when there were debates about a Greater Germany that included Austria at that point. So he's harking back to that and he's saying, actually, we shouldn't be in two separate countries. And this works for many Germans. And you actually see a much higher than average proportion of Austrians serving in concentration camps as well SS-Guard, which is an interesting development. There's almost a more fervent, more extremist type of Nazism going on in Austria. They almost feel like they have a point to prove that they want to be part of the same system. And you see the same with Kristallnacht, with the pogroms against Jews in 1938. They take a much more violent turn in Austria, where in Germany it's mostly shops and synagogues and so on that are being attacked, although people also die and get murdered and arrested. But in Austria, It's very much targeted at the people themselves, at Jews, because of this kind of emotionality of wanting to prove that you're part of this. So it's not as odd as it looks today when we're looking at, you know, two very distinct states there. Basically, that isn't really the case in the 1920s, where there's still arguments about some form of unification of Germany and Austria, which Hitler of course ends up doing.

To the extent you have fondness or nostalgia for cultural creations of the Weimar era, what is it for I wouldn't say I'm personally sort of nostalgic in that sense.

I mean, as a historian, I always find it a bit, you know, it's my job to analyse what happened in the past rather than to crave something from there, if that makes sense in an emotional sense.

But there's Rilke, there's Thomas Mann, there's incredible cinema.

No, absolutely.

Amazing music.

And I do appreciate that. And especially the creativity of the 1920s. I mean, there's something about the utter devastation of the First World War that creates this absolute creativity and creative freedom that you see, and the willingness to experiment in the 1920s. I mean, when you look at films like Metropolis or M, or, you know, they're so innovative. The whole idea of the kind of vampire movie in the 1920s with Nosferatu, that's a kind of German creation because they're looking at these really dark, twisted horror themes as well. So I think that that's certainly something about the 1920s that's incredibly precious, this kind of kind of willingness to just break the boundaries, try again, start from scratch, because the world that people had come from and that they knew had gone. They knew that the First World War was an absolute kind of turning point. It wiped the slate clean and you could start again. And people, because of hyperinflation and all those things, people also felt they had nothing to lose. There wasn't like this kind of fear now when you think, oh, can I really say this? Can I really do this? Will I get canceled? What will it do to my career? Where people were almost hedonistic in a way, you know, that they would just go out and try things because of this absolute kind of dizzying state where there are no certainties, where there's nothing to cling on to. So that's unique, I would say, to that time period. And it created this absolutely dazzling cultural scene that you see in the 1920s, particularly in Berlin, of course.

Who is the great underrated German thinker or writer?

In the 1920s?

Well, anytime.

Oh, an underrated one. Now I have to really think, because rather than coming up with the kind of obvious answer, For me, it's von Humboldt, but I'm an American classical liberal, right? So— Yeah, and I wouldn't really put him as underrated. I mean, he's one of the sort of stars, I would say, of the German self-image and self-appreciation in lots of ways, both of them, the brothers.

But he's identified with building up state education, right? And in that sense, he's underrated because he did other important things.

No, that's very true. And the impact, certainly the long-term impact perhaps isn't quite as well understood. But of course, he does feature large in Germany and you do have things like named after him and, you know, people sort of refer to him. Referring to him in that essential way as part of the, of the kind of central strand of German culture that comes through. Well, because my brain's kind of permanently stuck in the 19th and 20th century, I'm gonna pick someone from there. I think Gustav Stresemann, who was the foreign minister in the Weimar Republic, and as such, you know, he was more than just a politician. He really had a big kind of idea as to where he would take Germany, how he would tackle the problems, and I think he got a long way along that in the 1920s. He really rehabilitating Germany in the world. He was presenting an image of a country that was recovering, restoring its kind of morality, and people believed him. I mean, he did rebuild, you know, Germany's position in international treaties and so on. He had an idea as to how to take the economy forward, and then he died just before the Wall Street crash happened. And so forever in my head, there's been this what-if moment. How would he have dealt with that? Because he He had solved seemingly unsolvable problems before in terms of dealing with hyperinflation and those kinds of things. And, you know, to me, it's this kind of idea of he almost saved Germany and therefore Europe and the world from this catastrophe that was befalling it later on. And that tantalising moment of had he not died there and then, could he have done something about it, perhaps makes him underrated because he never got the opportunity to. And we might be living in a completely different world today if he had survived. Survived.

Let's say you're mayor of Weimar today. You have more or less absolute power. How would you improve the city? What would you do? What should they be doing better?

I would certainly— I mean, maybe that's because I'm a historian rather than a mayor. I think there is a lot of focus in Weimar, or obsession almost still, with the things it's always been obsessed with. So it's culture, it's Schloss, it's Goethe. You know, you go there and it's basically impossible to escape these things. And there's very little emphasis on its role actually in the 20th century, because there's almost an uncomfortable notion there that if we go there, we have to deal with this legacy as well. So I would be a bit more brave with that and try and show visitors, of whom there are still many that come to Weimar, a town that is comfortable with its own history and goes back not just to these kind of cultural stars that it's harboured and but actually, you know, a more kind of nuanced picture across the board. So trying to show the people who come there basically Weimar across the ages, rather than just focusing on this kind of glory days, on the golden years of what people call the classical Weimar, basically, because it's a very artificial place in many ways. You know, you go there, it's super neat, super clean, looks after itself, it's very confident about these visitors coming in and out because it's been so used to that. But it shows the world a very, very narrow image of itself, namely, you know, that of the so-called classical era, when Goethe and Schiller lived and worked there.

AfD is relatively weak there, is that correct, compared to the rest of East Germany?

Comparatively, but it's still there. And people also vote for the far left, Die Linke, in higher numbers as well. So it's still a place where, if you look at it across the board, where the numbers are still relatively high, but not as high as the rest of the state of Thuringia around them. I think that's because it's always been socially different from its environment. So Thuringia itself is quite working class, lower middle class. It's got lots of small businesses, things like garden gnomes, for example, famously come from there. You have these small craft industries. That means that people tend to go with whatever the working classes are doing, and they're currently voting for AfD, so does Thüringen. But Weimar itself is very middle class, very not just middle class, but a particular branch of the middle class is the educated, the professorial, types, the intellectuals who move there. And so you end up with quite a small c conservative kind of culture there that sets it out a little bit from the rest of the region there. So the numbers are a little bit lower.

And putting aside both tourists and student populations, who are the immigrants who move into Weimar?

There are actually fewer, a lot fewer than you would expect, kind of given Germany's overall population. So when you walk through Weimar, you see a few kind of foreign students, particularly at the Bauhaus University, which is sort of modeling itself on that tradition and therefore attracts some, but largely it's the people who run the kebab shops, who run the takeaways, who drive the taxi into town, that kind of part of the population. And it's not huge, it's just a few people, basically much, much smaller than in lots of other places.

What's the biggest issue in purely local politics there? Not immigration, not AfD, not European Union, but—

Yeah, I mean, most people, when I go there and speak to people, most people are very concerned with the state of the economy and with interference they feel is coming from the state without it being helpful. So they feel that it's too much regulation. You know, it's still a place that's dominated by lots of kind of small independent places like, you know, little shops and that kind of thing. And people feel that their own personal kind of progress is being hampered by the way that the state— Berlin in particular, which seems very far away from Weimar— is setting the parameters for their economic activity. So that was certainly the biggest issue that I heard a lot, is that people were grumbling about that, about the regulation, the taxes, and so on.

Now, there's a common sense that the German Mittelstand, you would call it, is disappearing, that there's more competition from China. In general, employment in manufacturing is going down. A lot of German sectors, such as automobiles, don't seem well-poised to do well over the next 10 years. How pessimistic are you about that?

I mean, it would be odd not to be pessimistic because all the experts are telling us to be pessimistic, as do the people in the field. And you do see entire industries breaking away at the moment. I mean, there's a huge issue, particularly with energy, that isn't being addressed and isn't being resolved. So if you have a part of the— or if you run a part of the economy that relies on stable and affordable energy, then there isn't an obvious solution. This isn't the kind of temporary crisis that you just have to sit out and hope that it'll go away. But actually, the structural things that are wrong with the German economy don't seem to be going anywhere. So I'm quite pessimistic at this point, but I'm hopeful that the election results that are coming in thick and fast now, and you begin to really see that in politicians that it's beginning to sink in just how pessimistic other people are and how fed up they are, that this is now hopefully leading to some reforms. And there's certainly talk of that at the moment in Germany.

But say at a deeper level, what do you think went wrong? So German trains, they used to almost always be on time.

Time.

Now they're quite typically fairly late. Things Germany for a long time was very, very good at seem to be fraying. What's the deepest structural model of what's going on there?

I think the biggest problem is complacency. I think people were so used to the idea of this system always going that way. When you look at whatever is 20 largest German companies today, they're all 19th century, or a lot of them are 19th century companies like Siemens, Bosch, you know, kind of the big companies that you'd expect, chemical industry, electronic engineering, that kind nothing. And because these things survived, like, two world wars and the complete moral and economic destruction that the Second World War brought, and came back, bouncing back afterwards with the economic miracle in West Germany, I think people thought that they would always just carry on running no matter what you do with them. You don't have to look after the system, you don't have to reform it, you don't have to modernize it. As a result of that, I think people didn't really think, how do we get this, or how do we adapt this to the 21st century. So when you look at things like startups, say, in Germany, the rate is much, much lower there than it is in comparable countries because the innovation is lacking. People just thought, you know, let's, let's run with the existing thing, it served us well, without having the kind of nimble-footedness that made the system great in the first place. That innovation of the 19th century, that zeal, I think has gone to a large extent.

You've now lived in Britain for quite a while. How do you feel that shapes your interpretation of East German history and Germany in in general?

I always find it helps because you sort of sit outside. I sometimes joke that I live in exile, so you can kind of, you know, observe your own country perhaps in a slightly less cautious and fearful way. I feel that people who live in Germany and their careers depend on what they say and what they write, they tend to be a bit more cautious than people who don't. And then also Germany has got a bit of a habit, I suppose like the US, because it's quite large, quite dominant for where it is. It tends to not look across its own borders. It tends to kind of interpret issues within its own ecosystem and thereby doesn't see that other countries either have the same problems and have dealt with them in some way that might actually be useful to look at, or that the problem that they have is distinctly German. So say, for example, when the AfD began to rise, the far-right party in Germany, people immediately said, oh, this is an East German problem because it's larger in the East and much larger in the East than it is in the West. And so they ignored it for a long time. They basically looked at that and said, well, this is just East Germans not understanding how democracy 'Oh well, they're only a fifth of the population, doesn't matter.' Had they looked a little bit further, they could have seen what's going on in France, in Britain, in Eastern Europe, in the US, and in other places. They could have seen that actually the patterns there are not dissimilar. You have basically a working-class population that is deeply unhappy about things and is trying to find a way of expressing that. And they could have addressed it perhaps a little bit earlier and actually taken it seriously. Feel living outside of Germany, but still close enough and having relatives and friends and people there. And I go there a lot as well, so I have enough of a foot in there to follow events, but I feel I'm far enough away as well to have an outsider's perspective on these things.

Let's say someone pays you a good stipend so you can live where you want, put aside work commitments, family commitments, where in Germany would you actually want where would you pick to live? That was what you had to do to get the stipend. Where would you pick?

Well, if I had to live in Germany, which I really rather avoid, so I'm very happy in Britain, that would be my first choice. But if I had to live in Germany, it would definitely be somewhere northern rather than in the south, because that is the second people always think of in Germany when they think of Germany in east-west terms. But actually, the north-south divide is much older and much deeper, I would say. So for someone like me to go to Bavaria, say. It feels like you're in a foreign country. You don't really know the social conventions. They're very conservative, very Catholic, still a very different culture compared to kind of the northern half. So definitely in the north. And I always feel more comfortable the further north I get. So I like being in Hamburg, for example. I like being by the coast. People are very calm and often a bit aloof as well. But I quite like that sort of a very calm, to me, quite sort of polite, cautious way of being rather than the sort of brash culture that is associated with other parts of Germany. So I'd probably end up somewhere along the coast.

Hamburg to me is the most British part of Germany, of course.

Yeah, people say that. Yeah, they say it's the most British city in Germany. So that's maybe part of the reason.

For you on the map, where does North Germany stop and South Germany begin?

Well, people joke that there's a Weißwurst-Äquator, a sausage equator, basically south of which they eat this white sausage that is famous at the Oktoberfest. It's kind of like a squishy sausage that you have to cook and boil and then suck out of its skin. If you like that, you tend to live in the south, and then if you don't, you live in the north. And that is usually kind of along the River Main, which crosses Germany horizontally. About a third or so is south of it and two-thirds is north. That tends to be sort of about right, I would say. It's also in terms of the geography, if you look at it and The north is quite flat. And then once you get to Thuringia and Hesse and areas like that in the center of Germany, it becomes more mountainous, which is also associated with different types of cultures. It's that kind of foresty mountainous image that people have of Germany that starts about halfway down and then becomes more pronounced the further south you get until you get to the Alps as well. So I would say, yeah, probably the top half to two-thirds. It's a bit larger than half, I would say, the top.

For my final question, just to plug your book again. Katja Hoyer, Weimar: Life on the Edge of Catastrophe. Finally, what will you do next?

I haven't really quite decided yet. I think I want to really delve down into one particular story or case or individual, something really quite distinct and specific, because I think that kind of— I've looked at the bigger picture for so long now, these kind of telling these big stories that happen over decades, that I think just looking at one particular issue might be an interesting— or person or whatever— might be an interesting thing to do. So I'm bouncing around different ideas there at the moment. And sorry to be a bit sort of guarded still about that. It's just that whilst I'm still having these ideas swirling around, the moment you say anything, people come back and say, yes, do that or don't do that. And you end up kind of being influenced by that. So I tend to make a decision at some point and then, yeah, release it.

Great. Katja Hoyer, thank you very much.

Thank you.

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