Chapter 400: Comrade Betelich’s Speech

Chapter 400 -45: Comrade Betelich’s Speech

「Three days later, in the main hall of the Leipzig Automobile Plant.」

More than eight thousand workers crammed into the hall, with another thousand standing in the corridors outside. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, cheap tobacco, and an indescribable tension and anger.

Werner walked onto the stage, and the microphone let out an ear-piercing screech of feedback.

The workers below stared at him, their eyes filled with suspicion, anger, and a flicker of hope.

These men and women in faded work clothes were mostly in their forties and fifties, their faces etched with the lines of time and toil. They had spent their entire lives at this plant, and now they had to listen to a stranger decide their fate.

Werner waited for the crowd to quiet down before speaking. “Comrades, I know what you’re thinking.”

He hadn’t used a casual address like “brothers,” but instead the term “comrade,” which the East German workers were accustomed to.

The word was already becoming outdated after reunification, but in this hall, it still held power.

“You’re thinking, ‘Is this man from East Berlin here to trick us again? Is he going to feed us a bunch of pretty words only to sell us out to the West Germans in the end?'”

Someone from the crowd shouted, “Exactly! We’ve had enough of that bullshit!”

Werner nodded. “Yes, you’ve had enough. So today, I won’t be saying any of that.”

He pulled a document from his pocket and held it up. “This is the acquisition proposal from Volkswagen. They’re offering thirty million Marks to acquire the core production lines and equipment, and they’ll keep two thousand jobs.”

The crowd immediately erupted in an uproar.

“Two thousand? What about the other six thousand?”

“What gives them the right to fire us just like that?”

“Tell those West German bastards to go to hell!”

Werner waited for the noise to die down a bit before continuing, “I know you’re not happy. Why should a West German company be able to come in, buy whatever they want, and fire whoever they please?”

He paused, his tone growing heavier. “But I have to ask you one question—if Volkswagen doesn’t come, how much longer can this plant survive?”

The crowd quieted down some.

“You know the answer in your hearts,” Werner said. “Since the wall came down last November, have you been able to sell any of the cars from this plant?”

He looked out at the faces in the crowd, which were gradually falling silent. “Last week I passed by Alexanderplatz and saw a used car stall. A Wartburg, in 80% new condition, was priced at five hundred Marks. It had been sitting there for a month, and nobody wanted it. Next to it was a West German Volkswagen Golf, a ten-year-old car, rusted, with an oil leak in the engine. It was priced at five thousand Marks, and it sold in three days.”

Some in the audience began to murmur, their voices growing quieter and quieter.

“Why?” Werner continued. “It’s not because West German cars are ten times better. It’s because now, whenever East Germans see a Wartburg or a Trabant, they see a poor man’s car, a symbol of backwardness. They’d rather borrow money to buy a West German car, even if it’s secondhand and falling apart, as long as it has a Volkswagen, Audi, or Mercedes-Benz logo.”

“This is reality. The wall that fell wasn’t just made of concrete; the walls in people’s minds fell, too. Before, everyone could proudly say, ‘This is a car we East Germans built ourselves.’ And now? Now, everyone wants to throw their Wartburgs into the Elbe River and trade them for a West German car to prove they’re no longer second-class citizens.”

The hall fell completely silent.

Werner knew he had struck a nerve.

In recent months, he had witnessed firsthand the complex mentality of the East Germans—they were nostalgic for the equality and security of the past, yet eager to embrace the wealth and freedom of West Germany; resentful of the West Germans’ arrogance, yet desperate for their acceptance.

“If no one buys the cars, the plant has no income,” Werner continued. “Your February wages were paid by the Treuhandanstalt. Your March wages were also paid by the Treuhandanstalt. How long can they keep footing the bill? They have thousands of other factories to deal with. They can’t keep giving you blood transfusions forever.”

“In another six months,” he said, looking out at the crowd, “this plant won’t need the West Germans to shut it down; it will collapse on its own. And when that happens, you won’t get a single pfennig, and you’ll have no one to turn to.”

Someone shouted from the crowd, “That doesn’t mean we should let the West Germans slaughter us!”

“That’s right! We’re East German workers, not slaves!”

Werner raised his hand, signaling for quiet. “I never said you should be slaves. What I’m saying is, we have to recognize the situation for what it is, and then fight for the best possible terms.”

He walked to the front of the stage, his tone softening slightly. “I used to work for the Department for Commercial Coordination. You may have heard of it. I’ve seen too many factories, too many workers. After the wall fell, some plants refused acquisition by West German companies, saying, ‘We’d rather go bankrupt than sell out to the capitalists.’ And the result? Three months later, the factory was liquidated, the workers didn’t get any severance pay, and their families were left with nothing.”

“Other plants had their unions negotiate directly with the West Germans,” Werner continued. “And the result? The West Germans came with their calculators, running numbers on labor productivity and asset-liability ratios, completely baffling the union reps. In the end, they signed some confusing agreement, thousands were laid off, and the severance pay was pathetic.”

He paused. “I don’t want the Leipzig Plant to end up like that.”

The commotion in the crowd subsided.

An old, white-haired worker stood up, his voice choking with emotion. “Comrade Betelich, I’ve heard of you. I heard that in Berlin, you helped those… those people who were arrested. You helped get them out.”

Werner nodded. “I’ve done some work in that area. It was nothing.”

“I also heard you were nearly arrested yourself,” the old worker said. “But you didn’t go along with them.”

The hall fell silent once more.

Many in the crowd had apparently heard this detail. Werner, a man within the system who helped dissidents, held a special status in the minds of the East Germans: not a traitor, nor an accomplice, but an “insider with a conscience.”

“So,” the old worker sat down, his voice still trembling a little, “we want to hear what you have to say. Are you on our side, or the side of the West Germans?”

Werner looked at him, then at the entire hall. “I’m on the side of reality.”

He held up the document in his hand. “I spent three days negotiating with the people from Volkswagen. I secured three conditions for you.”

“First, the layoffs won’t be arbitrary,” Werner said. “I’ve obtained a detailed list of plant personnel, and on it, I’ve marked the cadres who were just coasting, the Stasi informants, and the corrupt department heads. I will have Volkswagen lay off these people first.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd as people began to whisper among themselves.

“The veteran master craftsmen in the workshops, the skilled backbone of the workforce—they will be prioritized for retention,” Werner continued. “It won’t be based on connections or seniority, but on actual ability.”

The atmosphere in the hall began to soften.

“Second, those who are laid off will not be thrown out on the street,” Werner said. “I’ve spoken with the Treuhandanstalt and the local government. We will launch a job creation program called ABM. This program was originally used in West Germany to combat unemployment, and now it will be implemented on a large scale in East Germany.”

“How will it work, specifically?” someone shouted.

“I will establish a Labor and Structural Development Company,” Werner said. “Workers who leave the automobile plant can be placed on the payroll of my company to perform public service work—demolishing abandoned factory buildings, cleaning up polluted sites, maintaining parks, caring for the elderly in the community. Their wages will be subsidized by the Federal Government, amounting to eighty to ninety percent of their original salary, for a period of two to three years.”

“During this time, you can participate in vocational training. You can learn to use computers, study accounting, learn to operate a forklift, or repair home appliances.” He looked at the crowd. “When new job opportunities arise in the future, you’ll have new skills. I promise you, as long as you’re willing to work, you will not go hungry.”

The voices from the crowd grew even quieter.

“Third, the plant’s kindergarten, clinic, and sanatorium will not be closed,” Werner said. “I will set up a charitable foundation to spin off these facilities from the factory and hand them over to the local government, or have my foundation manage them in trust.”

He paused, his voice softening. “Your children can continue to attend the kindergarten. Your families can still go to the company clinic for medical care. In the summer, you can still vacation by the sea in Rostock. I know that this plant is more than just a job to you. It’s your life, your home. And I don’t want to see this family completely broken apart.”