Who talks about the East, and who is listened to?

On 3 October, we will once again be celebrating German Unity Day. Yet more than 35 years after reunification, ‘division’ is still the dominant buzzword when it comes to our society. The linguist Prof. Kersten Sven Roth says: It is not only what we say that matters, but above all how we say it. In his book ‘East German? West German? A Misunderstanding!’, he examines how people in Germany have spoken about East and West since reunification. His conclusion: the East is repeatedly portrayed as the ‘other’, the ‘foreign’ and the ‘weak’. In an interview, Prof. Roth explains why ‘the one East’ does not actually exist, why even East Germans themselves use these patterns, and how we can communicate better with one another in future.

Why do we still talk so much about East and West today, even though reunification took place over 35 years ago?

To put it somewhat bluntly: because perhaps we haven’t really even started talking to one another about it yet. As a linguist looking at the history of the debate, one has to say that we’ve basically been stuck with the same tedious clichés for over three decades. The good old ‘Jammerossi’ and the equally familiar ‘Besserwessi’ have never gone away. What we’re failing to do, however, is to talk about it beyond our personal experiences: what do we actually mean by ‘East German’ and ‘West German’? Is the reason why the topic is still so prevalent perhaps simply that we have left it to the routine coverage of the media and the interests of politics, rather than taking the time to genuinely exchange views out of curiosity about different life stories, attitudes and perspectives?

When we talk about the ‘East’: who are we actually referring to? Is there even such a thing as ‘the East’?

Quite clearly: of course not. For me, as a linguist, ‘East Germany’ is, first and foremost, nothing more than a word. And the meaning of words is always a construct. Language deceives us: if there is a word, we are convinced that the thing itself also exists. But that is not always the case. When is someone ‘East German’? If they were born east of the Wall that fell over 35 years ago? How long must they have lived there? Or do you have to know that a ‘Simme’ is a moped and a ‘Jägerschnitzel’ might be a breaded slice of Jagdwurst? What if someone who grew up in Essen knows that too? What about people who were born and raised in Magdeburg but have lived in Cologne for a long time? Do they remain East Germans then? And if so: why are they counted as ‘West German’ votes in all the polls when they’ve answered the questions in Cologne’s pedestrian zone? No, as in other cases, the word itself is simply a claim. It has no clear meaning in this sense.

How is East Germany discussed, and by whom?

Linguistically stable patterns can be identified here, which are in fact so firmly established that they can be detected just as clearly in data from the early 1990s as in data from the year 2026. The most important thing is this: the East is always the ‘other’; this ‘other’ is always a shortcoming or a weakness; and this weakness is a burden on the West and on Germany as a whole. The crazy thing is: it’s not just ‘Wessis’ who talk like this. People who see themselves as East Germans – and describe themselves as such – often turn the tables, but in doing so merely confirm the same pattern. East German rappers portray themselves as underdogs lacking in education and culture, as if there had been no educated circles in the GDR or none in the East today. A professor from Leipzig has written a bestseller in which he, of all people, portrays East Germans as victims. That helps nobody, and it simply isn’t true.

Why is the East still so frequently associated in the media with issues such as the AfD, right-wing extremism, a democratic deficit or social problems?

There are, of course, perfectly objective reasons for this. The AfD’s regional branches in the East often present themselves differently from those in the West or even from the national party. They speak differently, they often take a more extreme stance, and are more radical in their language alone. And there is a far greater number of people in the eastern federal states who respond well to this rhetoric. The election results indisputably bear this out.

However, there is another factor at play which is certainly problematic for political discourse: by linking the undeniable crisis of democracy so closely, in terms of language and communication, with ‘the East’, one effectively turns it into an exceptional phenomenon from a pan-German perspective. Yet it has, of course, long been a pan-German phenomenon. This is what makes phrases like ‘The East is blue’ so problematic. Not only because, as things stand, only a minority of people in the East vote for the AfD – albeit a large one – and the majority is thus rendered invisible in the language used every time. But also because this phrase implies its opposite: ‘(Only) the East is blue’ – which is, of course, nonsense.

There are now several generations who were born after reunification. Yet the identity of being East German or West German still persists. Why?

Because it is such a wonderfully simple category. An either/or. We humans love it when complex things are simplified. And this is often achieved through language. Of course, there are also actors who have a vested interest in this. We are living in a golden age of populism in its various forms. It thrives on simplification and on offering people simple identity frameworks. And even if it may sound overly culturally pessimistic: the shift of a large part of the political discourse to social media is making a devastating contribution to this. Complex reality doesn’t fit on TikTok. ‘East German or West German?’ certainly does.

And yet I must correct you on one point: there is no such thing as a ‘West German’ identity. No Bavarian and no woman from Lower Saxony sees themselves as West German. We don’t even talk about the West as the West. The West is always the ‘zero point’ in the background of our talk about the East. In my book, I argue that we should change this. We must finally put the discourse on a two-pronged footing. I think that would then help to break down some of the entrenched divisions.

How can we – politicians and the media – talk about East Germany differently, without constantly drawing new boundaries between East and West?

By talking more about visions for Germany and Europe rather than about those for East or West Germany. Artificial intelligence, climate change, a dangerous gap between rich and poor and, as the PISA results have once again confirmed, dramatically different educational opportunities – none of these are, in themselves, East German or West German problems. Anyone involved in politics in a democracy must have something to offer. Democratic forces cannot simply parade the term ‘democracy’ like a monstrance – because that, after all, is just a word. They must be clear in their own minds as to what exactly the promise of democracy is. We need a language of utopia. Why will things be better in the future? If we cannot articulate that, we stand no chance.

Populists all over the world – as the Polish-British sociologist Zygmunt Bauman has so aptly described – are currently building their success on ‘retro-utopias’. In other words, on a past that never existed. With Trump, America is to become ‘great again’, whilst here we are to restore a former, ‘normal’ Germany. Whether that refers to the GDR or the old Federal Republic is, of course, cleverly left open. One resonates better in the East, the other in the West. If the other parties simply respond with ‘We must defend our way of life’, it won’t cut it. For that, too, is a backward-looking formula. Democracy thrives on confidence in the future and the constant expectation that things will not simply stay as they are, but will improve. To achieve this, we need a language capable of expressing that.

What can the media, politicians and we as individuals do to ensure that different experiences and voices are heard more clearly?

I think the media and politicians need to broaden their perspective once again so that the full diversity of opinions and voices – which certainly do exist but are simply drowned out by the general clamour – can be heard. Recent years have been characterised by an increasing narrowing of topics, arguments and patterns of speech. This is particularly evident in the way the rising AfD is being dealt with. If you look at the recent election campaign in Saxony-Anhalt ahead of the state election in September 2026, you’ll see that, essentially, no party from the established political spectrum managed to set its own agenda there. Instead, they all essentially limited themselves to distancing themselves from the AfD. This is legitimate and obvious given the party’s manifesto – but it is, of course, not enough.

The new national team manager, Jürgen Klopp, recently made much-noted remarks about wanting to ‘reclaim the flag’ for us. If democratic forces wish to put forward a credible alternative, they must, to some extent, reclaim their own language. But I actually believe that it is not only politics and the media that have a responsibility here, but also academia – particularly the human sciences, which, for various reasons, are presumably on the cusp of a renaissance as guiding and orienting disciplines.

Take my own discipline, which deals with language and communication. Our responsibility as applied researchers could also lie in reflecting on spaces and opportunities where a diversity of voices, open exchange and the joint development of hopeful utopias are possible. This is conceivable in sports clubs as well as in workplaces, from the church to allotment associations. The East, in particular, demonstrated impressively in 1989 the power this unleashes for the cause of democracy when such spaces succeed in overcoming speechless isolation. Magdeburg, too, has such a history. A citizens’ university and applied linguistic social research, as practised at the University of Magdeburg, could play a key role in organising such spaces beyond party-political boundaries and the immediate pressures of political action.

If you could choose one thing we in Germany should talk about differently in future, what would it be?

What? About the future and the areas in which we, as a society, must and can improve. That is the age-old promise of the Enlightenment, which remains a mission for us as a university in particular. Especially at a university like ours, which is named after Guericke, an early pioneer of the Enlightenment. But to me, the ‘how’ seems more important than the ‘what’: face to face rather than mediated by deliberately destructive algorithms, and guided by the magnificent maxim of the philosopher Hans-Georg Gadamer: ‘The other might be right.’ To have good reason to believe that they are mistaken, I must have truly listened to them.