How did the reunification of Germany influence the rise of techno music

in Berlin?

Toby Philipp

Senior Project Advisor: Grayson Acri

Abstract

East German cultural policies were aimed towards creating a socialist utopian society by means
of art and music; instead the state gained a monopoly on culture. The East German people
enjoyed limited freedoms, and were generally repressed by their regime – often violently. When
techno music came along after German reunification, it was able to put the spirits of
reunification, and the physical landscape of Berlin into acoustics. Techno allowed people to
escape from their daily lives, through dance, oftentimes all night. Techno in Berlin in the 1990’s
serves as a direct reflection of Berlin’s society at the time. This paper contrasts techno’s rise to
East German social policies, and draws parallels between the two.

12th Grade Humanities

Animas High School,

3/6/2024
1
 An Examination of Techno Music Based on National

Cultural Identity in the GDR

1. Introduction

When we think about the most important events of the 20th century, the fall of the Berlin

wall certainly comes to mind. We can see images and news clips of Germans climbing on top of

the wall, celebrating, and beginning to tear down the graffiti-covered divider which served as the

physical barrier between East and West for some 28 years. The fall of the Berlin wall was

broadcast all around the world, and signified the coming end of Soviet-Socialism, and as the

beginning of a new world era. At the same time around German reunification, new music called

techno, from Detroit and Chicago in the United States started gaining traction, which would give

way to a new subculture of expression, freedom, and one which shone light onto the coming

post-soviet future. Techno became particularly popular in Berlin, the reasons for which will be

examined later in this paper. The introduction of techno as a subculture in Berlin was mostly

significant, because of the parallels that can be drawn between techno, the spirits after

reunification, and the political landscape at the time.

Techno in Berlin ultimately acted as a glue for two people, once divided. Subcultures

such as techno can vary in relevance and can often fly under the radar, though in most cases they

can also resemble core parts of our societies which can’t be seen in more popular culture. In the

case of Berlin, this was techno – a mostly underground culture – which represented both Berlin’s

political, and social landscape at the time of German reunification.

Techno allowed two once divided people to come together in an unrivaled atmosphere,

and to dance with their newfound liberation from division and authoritarianism.

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2. Historical Context & Background Information

2.1 Reunification

The Berlin wall fell in the evening of the 9th of November 1989. This came after months

of protests in East Germany, during “Die Wende” (the peaceful revolution). Die Wende was the

result of the GDR’s (German Democratic Republic, or East Germany’s) totalitarian policies,

unemployment, mass migration, and economic ruin in East Germany. Much of the economic

decline was due to a shortage in raw materials, and the subsequent importation of goods, which

were attached to high tariffs. Furthermore, the state was obligated to provide a welfare state to

the people, due to a fear of social unrest. To add fuel to the fire, the Sozialistische Einheitspartei

Deutschland (Socialist Unity Party of Germany, which will be referred to as the SED) had to

take out multiple loans from West Germany to stay afloat, the most significant of which was a

controversial billion dollar credit from Bavaria (a German state in the South-East). The economic

instability also handicapped East Germany regarding environmental concerns, and subsequently

East Germany became the most polluted country in Europe (Mauerfall 2023).

By the 1980’s, protest became one of the main tools of the peaceful revolution. Although

repressed, and often violently beaten down since the 50’s, the first signs of protest movements

arose in the 60’s among youth who identified as a part of the “Beat Movement.” Subsequently by

the mid-60’s, the movement was denounced by the state and in 1965, 267 people were arrested

during a protest in Leipzig (Mauerfall 2023). In the late 1970’s and early 80’s the Evangelical

church, along with environmental groups became centers for protest among East German youth.

Between the years of 1979 and 1987, around 9,000 religious, and non-religious attended the

annual blues convention in Berlin; blues was a center for youth counter culture at the time, and

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thus took up a large part in the protest movement (Mauerfall 2023). Another movement largely

defined by the evangelical church, were large-scale protests against the arms race – around

100,000 youth in both East and West gathered for the protests (Mauerfall 2023).

By mid-August 1989, the peaceful revolution had taken up steam. Monday mass in the

evangelical church in Leipzig had become a center for protests which had become known as the

Montagsdemonstrationen (Monday demonstrations). By September 1st, 1989, on world peace

day, demonstrations had been held in the small towns of Neuruppin, north of Berlin and Forst,

near Cottbus. The protests called for more democracy and open border policies, under the slogan,

“Friedensbrücken statt Friedensgrenzen” – freedom bridges, not freedom borders (Mauerfall

2023). The movement spread to other cities from there under the wing of the evangelical church,

building on Gorbachev's liberal reforms, and under the slogans, “Wir sind das Volk!“ (We are the

people, a slogan against authoritarianism and in favor of democracy), later“Wir sind ein Volk!”

(We are one people, a slogan calling for unification) (Mauerfall 2023). The brutal repression of

protest in Leipzig on September 11th, 1989, further added to the public outcry; this was followed

up by weekly protests in Rostock, to which thousands of people showed up, and demonstrated

for the release of the imprisoned protesters (Mauerfall 2023). On October 9th, the now coined

“Tag der Entscheidung” (the day of decision), 70,000 people went on to the streets in Leipzig to

protest, a move which wouldn’t be pushed back by the police due to the unexpectedly high

turnout. Furthermore, it was broadcasted on television, an unexpected move, which would

present the event to all of East Germany. The lack of pushback from the state sent a message to

the whole country, and on the 4th of November, between 500,000 and one million people

gathered on Berlin’s Alexanderplatz in protest against the power-monopoly of the SED, and for

democratic reform (Mauerfall 2023).

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 At the same time, in mid-1989, new Hungarian and Czech-Slovak laws, meant to “bring

down the iron curtain,” and allow travel into Austria – a non communist country. This was

exploited by East Germany, allowing thousands to travel into Czechia-Slovakia, and from there

into Austria. On August 19th, around 700 GDR refugees were given permission to cross into the

West in a symbolic act, which would set the precedent for the following months. By September

30th in the overflowing West German embassy in Prague, the West German foreign minister

Hans Dietrich permitted travel into West Germany. In the following days around 17,000 East

Germans filled trains heading towards the West.

The combination of the ongoing protests, and the already occurring migration into the West

ultimately forced the hand of the SED. On the night of the 9th of November, 1989, Günter

Schabowski announced a hastily drafted bill in a press conference, which said that East Germans

would be free to travel to the West immediately. He failed to address key points of the bill,

though by the time these misconceptions were clarified, the first East Germans had already

crossed the border into the West.

2.2 The Origins of House

In order to examine the rise in popularity of techno music in Berlin, we must dive into

some history of the genre. Before techno existed, and what ultimately inspired it, there was house

music in Chicago, USA. In 1980, the electronic company Roland came out with a first of its kind

drum machine, which allowed for musicians to play drums electronically, and without physical

constraints. House artists would loop disco-funk music records by artists such as Funkadelic,

Donna Summer, and Bee Gee, and add drum beats with their new machines. Although far from

the only pioneer, Frankie Knuckles is often credited as being the “godfather of house”, and the

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inventor of the genre. He was a resident DJ in the club Warehouse in Chicago, a predominantly

gay club and would put on house records, which ended up being very popular with the clubgoers

at Warehouse, so much so that the name of the genre became a shortened version of the club:

house (Brown 2023). It is here where it should be noted that Knuckles was inspired to play disco

records by the infamous burning of thousands of disco records by predominantly white, rock

purists. The event is widely known as: “disco demolition night,” and is often said to have deep

roots in anti-black and queer thought (Lynskey 2023). The house genre thus has deep roots in the

black and queer communities of Chicago and Detroit, a fact often overlooked because of the

subsequent popularity of techno in Berlin and other predominantly white cities.

2.3 The Creation of Techno

The white flight from Detroit, USA made Detroit a majority black city for the first time

in its history, and so from the get go, techno was black. When listening to what is considered the

first ever techno song: No UFO’s by Juan Atkins, under the name Model 500, the new wave

synth, Kraftwerk, and disco influences aren’t difficult to spot. Juan Atkins, Derrick May, and

Kevin Saunderson are often regarded as the godfathers of techno and as the “Belville three,”

after the town where they went to high school together. The three were bonded over the fact that

they were some of the only black students at their school, and their shared interest in the bands

Kraftwerk, Parliament, Prince, and the B-52s. Juan Atkins, inspired by the band Parliament,

purchased a synthesizer, which along with his turntables, he would teach his friends how to use.

In 1981 the group started DJing in Detroit, and regularly started getting played on popular

Detroit DJ Charles “The Electrifying Mojo” Johnson’s radio show on WGPR. The group

eventually started to expand their horizons, and started working with other artists, but most

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importantly, they started studying the music of Frankie Knuckles and Ron Hardy in Chicago.

This gave the group a new direction, leading them to create a unique sound; a combination of

beat driven house and rhythmically intense Kraftwerk. Thus, a sound which perfectly represented

post-industrial Detroit was created: techno. These new, post-industrial sounds would eventually

make their way into Berlin, where they led to the rise of a new subculture, and would spark a

new chapter in German culture as a whole. In order to understand the rise of techno music in

Berlin, it is important to examine socialist culture in East Germany, which will help us draw

parallels between these East German cultural ideals, and the rise of techno in Berlin.

3. Research and Analysis

3.1 Bringing High-Culture to the Worker in the GDR

East Germany, after its establishment as a state, didn’t have anything which separated it

from the West culturally; people in both countries spoke the same language, and had a shared

history. When party leaders in East Germany realized that they couldn’t compete with the West

economically or politically, they looked towards establishing East Germany as the only true

successor to pre-split Germany by means of cultural identity. Laura Silverberg lays this out in her

paper, East German Music and the Problem of National Identity, stating:

...a vibrant musical life in East Germany served a key political function by aligning the

GDR with the cultural past. For at least two centuries, music had enjoyed a privileged

role in constructions of the German nation: Germans were the ‘people of music’; music

was the ‘most German of the arts’; and the compositions of Bach, Handel, Beethoven,

and Wagner were national treasures (2).

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The SED recognized the historical significance of music in German society, and identified it as

an important medium for the state to establish its influence on cultural life.

In order to establish music as a center of culture among its people, the SED looked

towards making once bourgeois art forms accessible to the worker, simultaneously expanding

their influence by means of cultural monopolization. One of the ways in which they made high

art accessible to workers was through so-called “friendship contracts,” between professional

artistic organizations such as the Composers Union and local factories. The friendship contracts

essentially consisted of sending members of – say the Composers Union – to factories in order

to help the workers there with their artistic endeavors (Silverberg 5). This signified the SED’s

promotion of a worker-state to the population, whilst gaining control within cultural life. In sum,

the East German state, “emphasized high art music of the past over new proletarian art forms,

aimed to bring high culture to the workers, and attempted to harness music to bolster the socialist

state” (Silverberg 6). The notion of high art over proletarian art thus reinforced the feeling of

high status among the German people, and the idea that East Germany be the only true

successor; a high class socialist worker-society. Ultimately, the promotion of creative endeavors

forged a new form of high culture among workers, and therefore East German Society. Although

these policies were aimed towards establishing a true socialist Germany, the SED had to

maintain its ties to the soviets, and in the context of culture, this meant adapting socialist realism.

3.2 Socialist Realism in East German Musical Culture

The East German government was very concerned with maintaining its “Germanness” in

policy making and culture, not wanting to appear as a puppet state to Moscow. However the

Soviets at the time were pursuing a doctrine of socialist realism, which was meant to encourage

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artists to create positive imagery of utopian socialist life. This was adapted in East Germany, and

it meant creating culture around already existent music such as folk, and classical music; more

modern sounds were often unwelcome, and seen as Western-bougeoisie influence. Laura

Silverberg notes that: “Western sounds at this time were largely characterized by experimental

pitch organization, abandonment of tonal harmony, and complex, irregular rhythms that

characterized contemporaneous music in the West” (11). Artists in the East who wished to adapt

these concepts were often accused of formalism, and some composers such as Paul Hindemith

were even denounced. Musicologist Karl Laux described him as a “musical cosmopolitan,” and –

because Hindemith was an American citizen who would not return to Germany—concluded that,

“there is no longer a German composer Paul Hindemith” (Silverberg 17). This meant that East

German artists, out of fear of being denounced, wouldn't adopt Western sounds. Western musical

practices were ultimately rejected by the state because they were seen as too complex for the

general public, and were seen as “inadequate for relaying a socialist message” (Silverberg 12).

This led to East German music taking on a sound, filtered through Marxist-Leninist culture,

unlike anything seen in the rest of the world. Socialist realism would thus become integral to the

SED’s cultural policies, and shape the way East Germans expressed culture.

Socialist realism became the core of East German cultural life, and as Silverberg puts it:

Socialist realism did not merely forge connections between music and socialist

ideology. The doctrine also implied an aesthetic and ideological dichotomy between the

Eastern Bloc and the West: in the East, composers aimed for audience accessibility and

embraced national traditions, while composers in the West rejected such traditions in

favor of incomprehensible modernist experimentation (12).

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This draws a clear line between Eastern and Western cultural values, where the East was oriented

towards the collective, and the West towards individualization. Modern-western music principles

were seen as remnants of Nazi Germany, and unwelcome Western influence. As Silverberg puts

it: “According to this narrative, the GDR was the sole heir to and protector of Germany’s greatest

“humanist” traditions, while West Germany—poisoned by American influence—represented an

evolutionary dead end, the logical continuation of German imperialism, fascism, and cultural

decadence” (7). The rejection of modern principles was thus seen as a way for East Germans to

move forward into a utopian socialist society, free from imperialist ideals and exploitation, whilst

still maintaining their German heritage. We can further examine the SED’s influence on cultural

policies through its policies on jazz, and the ways in which it pushed national identity through

the music.

3.3 The East German “Jazz Resolution”

East German socialists believed that jazz was a form of protest music, a representation of

working class values. They also believed that in the United States and Western Europe, this

message had been taken out of jazz by commercial forces, looking to exploit and commercialize

the genre. Helma Kaldeway expresses the SED’s view on jazz in her paper, Dixie and Free:

Socialist Ideologies of Jazz as:

For Communists in both East and West, jazz served furthermore as a vehicle to propagate

ideas: as the voice of the oppressed, it raised social awareness, and as an internationally

popular genre, it transcended barriers of race, class and nationhood to reach the masses

(2).

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Jazz was thus an important medium to propagate socialist ideas. Their view on jazz was that it

served as something to be taken back by the people from the industries in the West, and turned

into a voice for the class struggle. According to Kaldeway: “Corrupted by the industry (in the

West), jazz no longer served as a means for African-American self-determination, and therefore

did not sustain the class struggle (Klassenkampf)” (4). The East German celebration of jazz as

something connected to class liberation can be examined through Luis Armstrong’s 1965 tour of

the Eastern bloc. When Louis Armstrong came to the East, Germans celebrated him as someone

fighting the struggle for black liberation, in contrast to the way Americans saw him: an artist

with relatively few political views. In recalling the events, Kaldeway states that,“During his tour

in March and April 1965, the East German press celebrated Armstrong’s musicianship just as

much as it propagated his historic roots in slavery and segregation and his role in the fight for

Black freedom” (5). He was seen as someone who brought only the highest of artistic standards

along with his “so-called classical jazz with collective and solo improvisation” (Kaldeway 6),

which as we noted earlier was celebrated in the GDR, given the historic roots behind his music,

along with his talent displayed. It was during this time however in the 60’s, when the SED

started pushing ever-increasing isolationist policies.

The party started moving away from its stated goal of German reunification as a socialist

nation, and more so towards distinguishing itself from the West. According to Kaldeway one of

the ways in which they did this was to paint the West as deeply racist:

In the 1960s, the East German media had regularly reported on racial inequality and

aggression against Blacks, including Ku Klux Klan atrocities and clashes between civil

rights protesters and authorities, comparing racist violence in the US to that of the Nazi

regime (5).

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This was in a move to distinguish the GDR from the West, drawing parallels between its dark

past and the 1960’s West. It wasn’t until these isolationist policies that the SED’s cultural

policies on jazz started to shift towards defining itself as something purely East German, and

started to establish jazz as a center in the Kulturlandschaft (cultural landscape). In Kaldeway’s

words regarding the shift in the perception of jazz: “In 1968 leading ideologues predicted a

glorious future for jazz in the GDR: critic Jürgen Elsner, for instance, declared that of all the

genres, it enjoyed an irrevocable position in the cultural landscape of socialist Germany” (7).

It was during this time that the SED started setting up jazz workshops, “led by East German

celebrities such as Alfons Wonneberg and Klaus Lenz, encouraging amateur musicians to

develop their musical interest” (Kaldewey 7). In this move of establishing jazz within the

cultural landscape, professional musicians were essentially subsidized by the East German state

to bolster their creative output. Kaldeway agrees, and states: “What they later recalled as a

‘professionalizing of jazz’ began in the first half of the 1970s, and encompassed state-sponsored

free jazz activities including rehearsals, recordings and tours, making them financially

independent and providing them the freedom of unrestricted experimentation, particularly in

pursuing free forms of improvisation” (13).

Thus jazz became an integral part of East German cultural life, unchallenged, and often

directly supported by the state government by financial means, since to the SED jazz served as

something deeply rooted in German society; something which represented the class struggle; and

as a high art form which was by the people and for the people. Jazz serves as an example for how

the SED controlled cultural life in East Germany, and furthermore its importance, regarding

ideology and the connection to the working class. While jazz acts as an example for success in

the party’s cultural policies, other genres such as rock did not enjoy the same uncontented status

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in East German society, its introduction however would lead to the establishment of new

subcultures, outside of the SED’s cultural monopoly.

3.4 Undermining the Establishment by Means of Music and Subculture

Peter Wicke, in his paper about rock and political change in the GDR, gives us an insight

on the cultural significance of music:

Music is a medium which is able to convey meaning and values which—even (or,

perhaps, particularly) if hidden within the indecipherable world of sound—can shape

patterns of behavior imperceptibly over time until they become the visible background of

real political activity. In this way, rock music contributed to the erosion of totalitarian

regimes throughout Eastern Europe long before the cracks in the system became apparent

and resulted in its unexpected demise (Wicke 81).

The subcultures which formed in Eastern Germany during the 1960’s and 70’s would play a large

part in undermining the authority of the SED, given that the culture was in many ways out of

reach to the authorities.

Inspired by the West, and particularly the United States, rock music entered Eastern

Europe. The SED initially tried to turn rock and blues into political tools to support the socialist

cause by means of anti-capitalist messages, as Michael Rauhut states:

In the fifties and sixties, jazz, rock ’n’ roll, and beat music got caught between the fronts

of the Cold War. The SED used them as a populist vehicle for their anti-Western

propaganda. During difficult political times, it identified the music as a dangerous

medium of ideological diversion, as a ‘neurotoxin,’ which would lead young people away

from the path of socialism (3).

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In the end though, the SED had to concede, and thus accept the adaptation of this new music

from the West. According to Rauhut, the state aimed to incorporate the music into society by

means of socialist messages, and the media preached its autonomy from its Western counterparts

by creating “socialist youth dance music.” Party spokespeople proudly preached that, “Rock

music is suited to promoting the beauty of a life of peace and socialism, to strengthen the

courage to face life, to show pride in achievements, to encourage civic behavior and activities

and also to make contradictions transparent, and use its resources to take sides in the battle of our

time” (Generaldirektion beim Komitee für Unterhaltungskunst 1984). However the idea of

conveying socialist messages through German lyrics was somewhat of a disaster; the German

lyrics have been described as sounding like “fig leaf” (Rauhut 4). The music wasn’t going

anywhere, though it would stay in its Western form, and along with Western messages which

were interpreted by the East Germans, and adapted to resonate with their own struggles and

oppression. It was within rock music where different subcultures such as punks and bluesers

emerged and subsequently surveilled.

These movements were infested with agents from the Ministry of State Security (Stasi),

which had the goal to subvert such youth, as they were seen as“negativ-dekadente Jugendliche”

(negative-decadent youth) (Rauhut 7). This surveillance however only amplified the music’s

power for East German youth who, as Rauhut puts it: “drew much of their substance from their

own country’s potential for social conflict. All the West provided was the raw material, the

stylistic repertoire” (11). Thus the music became a powerful tool for protest in the East, as it

couldn’t be beaten down as easily as traditional protests or opposition; it was a societal shift deep

within East German youth culture.

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 Much of this desire for political conflict in East Germany arose out of the repression

which youth generally faced from their own government. That repression is why the infestation

of Stasi agents – which was seen as a further form of repression – was of any significance to the

counterculture and was able to reinforce their beliefs. The youth thus rebelled through the music,

resonating with sounds from the West and reassessing them to relate in their own oppression.

Subcultures such as the bluesers ultimately enjoyed a much more extended life-span than in the

West, mostly due to Eastern cultures not being subject to market chains and industrial

exploitation. Bluesers and punks thus acted as groups which went against socialist norms, and

were taken as a threat to the SED party leadership. What made them significant however, wasn’t

the fact that they adored blues and rock music, but rather the messages carried within the music,

their stylistic choices, and the symbols which they used.

3.4 Stylistic Expression in a Socialist Landscape

Style eventually became a driving factor within the punk movement of the 1980’s. Erica

Carte, author of Style Identities and Individualization In 1980’s East and West Germany, a

chapter in the book German Division as Shared Experience Interdisciplinary Perspectives on the

Postwar Everyday can tell us why style in the GDR played a particular significance. The

significance of subculture can not be understated as Carter puts it:

One of Dick Hebdige's primary insights was to appreciate that subcultures are not

separate from the dominant culture but are busy reworking the dominant culture's norms

and values, often responding to some of the same concerns and socio-economic

conditions as the rest of society. Subcultures do this through bricolage - or hybridizing -

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 the material culture available to them. Common objects are thus appropriated into new

networks of symbolic meanings (3).

The socio-economic condition in East Germany was deteriorating in the 1980’s, and its society

was mostly characterized by authoritarian repression, and the lack of self-expression. This desire

for self expression was pursued by punks during the 1970’s and 80’s. It would be a mistake to

characterize punks as one homogenous group; they were rather a conglomerate of many different

subgroups, all with different ideologies, with the core of generally being anti-establishment.

Carter can give us some general categorization for the punk movement in the 80’s:

In the early 1980s, punks began to split into different subgroups, each with their own

style, music, attitude and politics (or lack thereof). The Ur-punks begat hardcore punks,

leftist skinheads, ska-punks, fun punks and racist skinheads. Following punks were other

subcultural groups including new romantics and goths (called Gruftis in the GDR), small

groups of teds (teddy boys) and mods, poppers (preppies), hip-hoppers, more extreme

forms of heavy metal (heavys) and, at the end of the decade in West Germany, skaters (3).

The punks were a fluid group, free of social confinement, as the meaning in their symbolism was

completely up to interpretation. The rise of punk culture came after the bluesers, who were often

characterized by their long-hair, and thus persecuted by security forces such as the Stasi for their

unwillingness to settle into established society – many of them were hitchhikers (Tramper), who

followed blues festivals all around the Eastern Bloc. Long hair had long been a part of East

German life, and thus it was easy for punks to chop off their hair, and wear short styles, which

was seen as a disruption of norms in youth-style, and as a commitment to the punk culture by

“altering one’s body” (Carter 6). The group's goal was ultimately chaos, and thus they employed

a symbol commonly used by anarchists: the A. The symbol varied in meaning from group to

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group, and whomever you consulted on the matter, but the fact remained that, as one GDR punk

put it at the time: “it was the 'symbol of symbols' and stood for true anarchy, not the dysfunction

of the authoritarian GDR government, which, he specified, was chaos” (Carter 6). This unkempt

the theme of chaos within the punks sphere; most of the symbols used by the movement were

ripped from conventional meaning, “that they were placed into a cacophony of 'bad' taste,

unconventional clothing and collaged texts meant that they could be understood collectively as

signifiers of chaos, even if their individual meanings could not always be deciphered” (Carter 7).

Punks appropriated anything they could get their hands on without significant meaning towards

any of the objects. Grufties for instance, wore upside down gothic crosses without affiliation to

the church or satanic circles, and racist skinheads appropriated the simple braces and work

trousers from originally left-leaning, working class skinheads (Carter 7). This meant that the

symbols were also much harder to persecute for the Stasi, since the symbols varied in meaning

so vastly, and were difficult to interpret. For punks, their individual expression came before

political engagement, as the search for one’s own lifestyle was seen as equally important, and

thus should come before changing society (Carter 11). The search for the individual self

therefore became synonymous with anti-establishment beliefs, and directly acted as a way to

undermine the SED. These styles were also more in line with Western ideologies, an alignment

which had been underway ever since the Blues movement of the 1960’s.

The counterculture movement had been around ever since the bluesers, and with

ever-increasing frustrations with East German life, youth looked for inspiration outside of the

Eastern Bloc. Carter expresses the immediate effects on the cultural leadership as:

Within the repressive GDR state, the self-expression practiced by punks and other

members of the style-scenes had even greater significance. By flaunting their ostentatious

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 styles in public spaces, young East German members of the style-scenes were breaking

the state monopoly on control of legitimate cultural capital (15).

The creation of these unofficial youth cultures thus directly correlated to a decrease in the SED’s

stranglehold on East German cultural life, and therefore, East German society. The expression of

individual styles in East Germany was as powerful as it was, because of the lack of control the

SED was able to exercise over it. The effects of punk-expression weren’t what caused the wall to

fall – there were larger societal factors which broke the wall off of its foundation – though the

punk’s search for the self and their individualisation most definitely laid much of the groundwork

for the initial cracks; in showing a new way to the East German people, with their ostentatious,

flaunting styles. We already know what happened by the end of the 1980’s: the toppling of the

East German government, and the fall of the Berlin wall. Though even with the Wende, and

subsequent celebrations the counterculture movement wouldn’t slow down, though

it also couldn’t remain the same, and thus it evolved into techno, a movement centered around

self-expression, and one which again shook cultural norms in now reunified Germany.

3.5 The Rise of Techno in Berlin

The beginnings of techno music were mentioned in an earlier paragraph, though merely

in the context of the midwestern United States. To explain why techno ultimately became so

popular in Berlin, one must look at the city's landscape, post reunification. In Christiann Lim’s

documentary, Sound of Berlin – A Journey Through the Capital of Electronic Music, Dimmitri

Hegemann, founder of Tresor shares his perspective on the rise of techno:

That Berlin became so popular for this electronic music community was: (A) because the

fall of the Berlin Wall created an incredible atmosphere; (B) that there was no curfew and

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 no restriction; (C) all of these abandoned places in the eastern part of the city; (D) that the

authorities left them space - the politicians were preoccupied solving other problems,

such as traffic and to bring together two entirely different systems (14:37).

We can examine this, starting with the abandonment of the East. The East was left mostly empty

because much of the property in the East was seized by the state after the establishment of the

GDR in 1945, and thus it was difficult to figure out who these buildings actually belonged to,

since the West German state couldn’t simply annex said buildings, so they were left empty.

Furthermore, most SED businesses and factories were forced to close due to being outcompeted

by their Western counterparts, and open borders led to migration into the West, due to higher

wages and job availability. Thus squatting in abandoned buildings became common practice,

given the gray areas associated with property ownership. The creative-class youth who wanted to

celebrate their newfound freedoms were especially fond of this confusion.

It was quite rare that the police did shut down illegal parties, and when they did show up,

there was often too much confusion about property ownership to shut the parties down, and thus

they had to stand by. Thomas Andrezak, aka. Tanith recalled in the 2008 documentary

Sub-Berlin: The Story of Tresor that:

One time we had a bunker party, for which we used an official letterhead from the senate

to forge a permission. The federal border police showed up because they had recently

become the owners of the property, but when they saw the documents, they let us go

because they thought it was former senate property. We all ended up having a beer

together, it was nice. No one knew what was legal at the time and what wasn’t.

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This wasn’t an isolated incident either; permitting processes for these parties didn’t exist at the

time, and the property rights were skewed, which left police empty handed in their enforcement.

Andrezak further notes on the topic of setting up illegal parties that:

Back then we broke into a lot of spaces, and the police just stood there and watched

because they didn’t know whom they belonged to. They thought we might have old

ownership rights or whatever – nobody cared. It was normal to just open every basement

and to have a glance inside (Sub-Berlin 22:51).

This was significant because the West at the time was packed full, built on to the last meter, and

populated; East Berlin thus offered new opportunities, not only with its space, but with the ease

of accessibility to these spaces. Reunification didn’t magically bring the two countries together,

there was systemic change needed, and that change would take time. Most of all, it would take

time to find documents regarding property ownership, and the establishment of new laws as a

reunified state, in this case particularly those regarding nightlife. As for reunification on the

ground, the opportunities became endless. Authorities simply had better things to do than to shut

down these fairly innocent gatherings, given the complications of bringing together a socialist

and capitalist country into one, two countries with different motives, ideals, and culture.

Another aspect within the rise of techno in Berlin, as Hegemann mentioned earlier was

the lack of a curfew. West Berlin hadn’t had a curfew in place since 1949 curfews because of a

man named Heinz Zellermayer. During the time from 1954-49, bars closed around 9pm in the

West and at 10 in the East. The hour difference led West Berlin to raise their curfew by an hour,

which led the East to do the same; it became somewhat of a “curfew standoff” (Allyn 2).

Zellermayer, fed up with the back and forth and with a whiskey bottle in hand, made his case to

the Brig. Gen. Frank Howley, the commandant over the American sector of West Berlin, that a

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lifted curfew would represent Western values and be good for the economy (Allyn 2). The

British sector disagreed, though after a 2-1 vote passed by the Americans and the French, the

curfew was lifted in the West. Up until the Mauerfall (fall of the wall), West Berlin didn’t have a

curfew, and when the wall fell, this rule carried over into the East. The lift of the curfew left East

Berliners to roam freely in the night, and to use the aforementioned abandoned buildings to

exercise their liberation from an authoritarian regime in an ecstatic atmosphere

post–reunification.

The last aspect in the rise of techno was the spirit – it was electric. A country which had

been divided for more than 40 years had now been allowed to come back together, and the clubs

allowed for this celebration to be exercised freely. Techno therefore took this incredible

atmosphere from reunification, put it into sound, and that sound resonated with people from both

East and West. People from the East were unbeknownst to this lifestyle of drug use and staying

up all night, dancing to exotic beats from the West. Johnnie Stieler, Co-founder of Tresor,

expands on this: “For all of the East German kids, music was pretty much the only drug - apart

from fucking, maybe” (Sub-Berlin 27:38). And yes, music may have been their only drug, and

that is surely in part why these electric beats sparked so much enjoyment, but it was more than

that; the freedom which was allowed to them was something they hadn’t experienced within their

lifetimes, and the futurism, drugs, expression of styles, and culture only made the appeal

stronger. They’d grown up in a society whose culture was mostly defined by the SED, and

techno showed them freedom. Techno was post-revolutionary, in a time of new and unknown

things, it shed light, and gave hope for a bright future. The appeal of techno led them flocking

into clubs such as Tresor, where the parties ran from Thursday to Tuesday.

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3.6 Tresor Club

When Tresor opened in March of 1991, in one of the vaults of a former department store

on Leipziger Straße 126-128, by Potsdamer Platz in the former East, it was different from

anything around at the time. It had a certain mystique surrounding it: the prison-like metal bars,

the deposit boxes, the meter thick walls which would trap any condensation and make sweat drip

from the ceiling, and the thumping base which would break Bose’s “unbreakable” speakers

because of the echoes from the walls. Josh Wink, an early DJ at Tresor describes his experience

in Tresor as: “It is really creepy, but it’s perfect. I don’t do drugs, and I feel like I’m on drugs

when I’m in there” (Sub-Berlin 3:08) This was the story for many, and while drug use was

definitely a part of the culture – ecstacy in particular, as it could act as a stimulant to keep

dancing for days – the club created a space so unique that it could be a drug in its own regard.

The music and bass were aggressive, amplified by the soundproofed space, it was dark, scary,

and dirty, and still people flocked to it. As Hegemann put it: “These extremely acoustic beats

were like an acoustic neurotic. You could literally take off!” (58:31). Alan Oldham, a Chicago DJ

(alias T-1000), and one of the pioneers of techno expressed that as an artist he felt that he had

arrived when he stepped into Tresor (Sub-Berlin 3:20). Tresor was the new center for techno as it

represented everything the genre stood for in a physical space; the dirty post-industrialism, and

industrial futurism. Techno paved a way towards a brighter future for people in a dark present,

and Tresor showed that way forward. Suffering from cigarette burns due to the darkness was

common, and still the people didn’t want to leave. Tresor also hosted several creative spaces,

including a gallery for photographers to show their work – a relatively new concept at the time.

Many artists preferred these rooms over their apartments, since they were heated and dry,

opposed to many of the apartments at the time, which often only had small wood stoves and in

22
the case of rooftop apartments had leaks in the ceiling. It thus acted as a sort of artistic-cultural

hub for people to express artistic endeavors with both body: in the form of physical art; and soul:

in the form of dance.

The first parties weren’t advertised on big posters in the city, it was in the underground,

and the way the information spread kept it that way. Andrezak, speaking on some of the methods

states that:

There were several information channels, word of mouth being the most important one.

There were also some funny things such as so called ‘party lines’ you could call, and the

answering machine would tell you where the illegal parties would be next weekend

(18:40).

The methods used worked. Regina Baer, the manager at Tresor from the first day of the club’s

existence recalls: “Saturday night at 12, we were still cleaning up, and put some overalls on to

hide our dirty clothes. Then the doors opened and I couldn’t believe my eyes: People were

queuing up onto the street, waiting to get in. It was crazy” (18:27). Tresor was an immediate

success, and its success remained throughout the years, at first because of the club’s

norm-breaking attributes, and the openness for experimentation which the club allowed; later the

status of the club as one of the pioneers, but it didn’t change – it maintained its character all the

way through until its closing in 2005. Much of the character was defined by the sense of

community. According to one of those interviewed in Sub-Berlin: “Tresor is family, Tresor is

more than a club. If I hadn’t had this Tresor family, I would’ve had many more problems with

my position in this reunified Germany.” (1:03:50). This sense of community was significant, not

only because it forged new connections between Eastern and Western people, but also because of

the commitment which laid within the community. Many of the people in Tresor would go

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weekend after weekend, and some even got tattoos of the Tresor logo. Tresor most definitely

played a part in unifying the youth from East and West; its cultural significance is undeniable,

which is why it came as such a shock to everyone when it was announced it’d be torn down.

Tresor was forced to shut down in 2005 due to its prolonged short-term lease having run

out. The space was purchased by investors, and subsequently office buildings, shopping malls,

and residential spaces which to this day are largely empty were built in its place. The demolition

of Tresor can be seen as symbolic for both Berlin, and techno as a genre: Berlin is to this day

becoming ever-increasingly gentrified, which is pushing out its creative class which has been

thriving on the relatively low rents for apartments and work space; and techno as a genre is has

widely risen from the underground, and into the commercial. Ultimately, Tresor stands as a

beacon for techno lovers both in Berlin and worldwide, and the attributes which it brought to the

table back on its first day in 1991 still define techno until this day. It was reopened in a different

location, in an old power station, though its future is still unstable; multiple investors have made

efforts to purchase the space which is seen as being catastrophic if put through. Hegemann says

that, “Techno was the soundtrack of reunification,” and with the closing of Tresor in 2005, a new

era began, one evermore defined by its commercial influences.

3.7 Post-Reunification

The next era in techno can be viewed through the lens of club Berghain in Berlin.

Berghain, which opened only a few months before the closing of Tresor, is oftentimes regarded

as the most exclusive club on earth; its policies, which are stated to be in place to keep the

culture intact, lead to around 60 percent of people being rejected from entering the club. Phones

are taken at the entrance, taking pictures is strictly forbidden, and the door policies are oriented

24
towards people wearing all black. Although the club does this in the name of inclusivity,

Berghain’s policies are rather exclusive, and the door policy, which is meant to create a unique

environment mostly encourages people to conform to the norm, thus leading to homogeneity. It

is also this exclusivity which creates somewhat of a status symbol for those who make it in. This

is in contrast to Tresor, whose door policies made the club accessible to virtually all people, and

even catered towards tourism in hopes of bringing the genre to a wider population. And although

Tresor has more open policies, which can be seen as either good or bad, Berghain’s policies do

serve a purpose: their conservative policies are meant to maintain culture against the influence of

social media and the ever increasing commercialization of techno. Berghain thus isn’t exclusive

for the sake of exclusivity, but rather as a reaction to the changing culture within techno.

Berghain’s no pictures policy is particularly important to the club, and it is easy to see

why. Social media has become an integral part of our society – for the better or the worse.

Platforms such as Instagram are flooded with videos of DJs playing the newest, unreleased

tracks, and the comment sections love it. Instagram feeds can be flooded with thousands of

videos of DJ’s playing their sets, along with the crowd’s energy, and the feeling can come

through the screen. This was especially powerful during the COVID-19 pandemic, since people

couldn’t go to clubs given the restrictions, and during that time social media kept the culture

going. However the social media culture also carried over into the post-covid era. It’s now

normal to see videos of entire crowds recording the DJs; the culture has largely shifted from

being about the experience of going clubbing, and over into the likes, views, and the “popularity

contests” of social media.

The largest shift within this new social media culture however, is the conformity. It can

sometimes seem as though techno culture is simply one big club, and everyone tries to fit in by

25
doing the same thing. The culture has thus shifted away from individual expression, and into

consumption for the sake of fitting in. This shift is also highly important to commercial forces,

who have an easier time mass producing products for mass consumption, rather than catering to

the individual. The culture is still expressive and different from any other culture, that shouldn’t

be misunderstood; though within techno as a subculture, the ever increasing sameness can be

easily identified. This shift is due to the hyperconsumption of goods and personalities which

everyone wants to match. In sum, techno, which started as a genre about individuality away from

watchful eyes, and subsequent expression, has turned into somewhat of a social media popularity

contest, where the purpose is to have everyone’s eyes on oneself. The change of techno to

someone as Dimitri Hegemann is catastrophic to the culture, since it’s become something which

isn’t a reflection of reunification anymore. Reunification is what defined techno in Berlin and

vice versa; though with a shifting culture and norms, the beginning of techno has been uprooted

into something new. Techno’s significance as a subculture is undeniable, though it can also serve

as an example for subcultures and subcultural evolution worldwide.

4. Conclusion

The reunification of Germany was one of the most significant events of the 20th century,

and techno was the soundtrack to it. The combination of the atmosphere, political landscape, and

vacancy in the East allowed for a new type of freedom to the people of Berlin; techno took

advantage of this. This freedom was particularly significant for those from the East, who had

lived under authoritarian rule and without much say regarding cultural life, as we examined

earlier in this paper. The liberation from their regime and the newfound ways of expression

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sparked new desires, and allowed for Eastern youth to express their individuality for the first

time in their lives.

The expression allowed within techno was a defining factor; DJs could experiment in any

way they wished, with the only rule being constant rhythm. The culture among the people in

contrast, was one of experimentation with new styles and norms. The dance, which was also

mostly experimental, made time and societal norms fall away, and allowed for one’s true self to

come out on the dancefloor. It was through the dissolution of these societal norms which allowed

techno to act as a liberating force, and particularly for Easterners in their newfound liberation,

techno was a reflection of their reality. Techno showed the people of Berlin a future apart from

the authoritarian East and division, and into a techno-futuristic reality. In the case of Tresor, the

club built a community surrounding the music, and allowed for new connections to be made

among club goers. Techno put German reunification into acoustic sound, and allowed for the

high spirits to be danced out. Thus the introduction of techno music and techno clubs in Berlin

acted as a sort of glue for the two people from opposite sides of the wall. Its rise in popularity

was entirely defined by reunification, and the hope which came along with unity. Techno

expressed the physical and social landscapes of Berlin, which gave it a natural place in the space

of culture. Given the element of transition into a capitalist society, we can also examine

reunification through techno.

The story of techno acts as a sort of contrast between the Soviet East, and the subsequent

introduction of capitalism. In the East, culture was controlled by power in the form of the state.

When said power was stripped, German society gave way to techno, something which wasn’t to

be exploited or regulated. Subsequently, after the joys of reunification had leveled out, the genre

was picked up by yet another form of power: the market forces of Western capitalism. It is there

27
where we can see the shift from one side of power to the other, from party control, to market

control; it was in the 1990’s when techno, and subsequently Berlin’s culture were free from

outside influences.

Techno meant liberation from repression and power, and clubs such as Berghain want to

maintain that culture. Examining techno is significant, not only because it, along with past

socialist policies on culture, can give us a view of the societal shift Germany experienced after

the fall of the Berlin wall; though also because of its cultural value. East German cultural values

were aimed at maintenance and duration, and as something to be enjoyed by the people. In

contrast, capitalist values are to create shareholder value, and maximizing profit. The significant

part about techno as a subculture is that subcultures as a whole give us insight into the most core

parts of our societies, and they will always exist within human society. What the examination of

techno music has shown us, is that in the context of capitalism, commercial forces will inevitably

have interest in subculture, as a means to be exploited. It is thus under capitalism, where the final

evolution of subculture is commercialisation, into merely another product within the industrial

chain. This is in comparison to the socialist model, where subcultures were meant to live out

their lifespan, as long as they represented socialist values. Both of these models ultimately

represent the same thing. Techno however, was in the middle in the late 90’s, and it was that

perfect middle where the genre thrived. Berlin in the 1990’s was a city for the people, for

expression, and for experimentation, and techno was at the heart of it all.

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