Showing posts with label West Germany. Show all posts
Showing posts with label West Germany. Show all posts

Saturday, January 27, 2024

The Berster Case: False Narrative & Kunstler’s Defense

The Vermont trial of an alleged terrorist revealed the danger of guilt by association and how disinformation creates a false narrative. 


GREG GUMA



 In the 1970s Kristina Berster was part of the anti-war movement in West Germany and joined an alternative therapy project, the Socialist Patients Collective. But when a political crackdown on dissent swept the country, she became a fugitive. She and members of her group were accused of criminal association. 
        Years later, tired of life underground and fearful about her future, she tried to cross the US border into Vermont to seek asylum. And got caught. Labelled a terrorist by the media and charged with conspiracy, she was technically innocent until proven guilty. But after an extensive FBI disinformation campaign she was widely considered a terrorist until proven otherwise. 
        By September 1978 former Chicago Seven lawyer William Kunstler had taken the case. Along with other defense attorneys and the Berster Defense Committee, he dug in at the Burlington home I shared with Doreen Kraft, Robin Lloyd and our infant son Jesse. Bill eventually moved into a spare bedroom. Evenings were often filled with fascinating group dinners and wide-ranging chats. 
        Over the next weeks we also underwent an immersive course in courtroom dynamics and Bill’s blend of legal jujitsu and theatrics. So compelling were the issues, so high the stakes, that I began to devote most of my time to the case. — Greg Guma 

DOCUMENTARY PREVIEW
Kunstler’s Defense, excerpt from a film in development, 
based on an intimate interview with legendary lawyer
William Kunstler during his defense of Kristina Berster
Bill Kunstler with Jesse Lloyd Guma

False Narrative: Eight Chapters
(Click to read)

Tuesday, April 25, 2023

False Narrative 8: Managing Perceptions

The 1978 trial of Kristina Berster revealed the danger of guilt by association and how disinformation creates a false narrative.  

Vermont endured a manufactured terrorist scare, an attempt to warp public perceptions. The FBI lied, so did the prosecutor. Anyone who supported the defendant was a target. 

Vermont Cynic satire, Nov. 30, 1978


By Greg Guma


Chapter Eight

Managing Perceptions


The jury went out on a Monday afternoon. By the next day it was obvious that a verdict wouldn’t come easily. Jurors were snagged on at least two issues: Kristina’s fear and the justification for her actions. Was sneaking across the border necessary to avoid West German repression? They couldn’t decide, and looked to the judge for guidance.

Facing the possibility of a hung jury on the third day of deliberations, Coffrin called them back and read an expanded definition of the “necessity defense.” Fear of harm, he said, could only be a defense if the harm would follow immediately. Having a gun to your head, or facing a tiger, would be enough. But just having a tiger in the neighborhood was no excuse for crossing a border illegally.

But that didn’t settle it. The jury remained stuck. They asked about the meaning of the conspiracy charge and listened to testimony excerpts. By Friday afternoon they had broken Vermont’s record for the length of a jury deliberation.

The verdict, finally delivered by the exhausted group at sundown on October 27, 1978 was a split decision. Felony and misdemeanor conviction, but acquittal on the conspiracy charge. US Attorney Gray didn’t consider this a victory. The jurors had sent a message through their delay and mixed verdict that they were looking for a middle path. 

Thwarted in court, Gray went to the press and broke the agreement he had made earlier with the defense. He revealed that Kristina once lived in South Yemen. While forced to admit that didn’t prove she was a terrorist, he suggested that it did tend to disprove her innocence of terrorist affiliations. Faced with an unfavorable verdict, he had turned back to a desperate line of defense — guilt by association, plus a racist dog whistle. Presumably, he also understood the potential impact of such a last-minute revelation: a renewed crackdown in West Germany, where the authorities and right-wing press were watching the case and viewed South Yemen as a terrorist training ground.

The trial ended as it began, with front page headlines and twisted facts. Kristina remained a pawn of governments, imprisoned without bail, interrogated by agents from two continents, and labeled by both to justify extreme tactics. In Vermont, the rhetoric had softened. But beyond the state line the smear campaign rolled on. In New York City, a banner headline the day after Berster’s conviction trumpeted, “No Asylum for Terrorist.” 

That’s how perception management works: When in doubt, just keep lying.

But the story didn’t end there. First of all, the jury had reached some surprising conclusions. Members said afterward that they found Kristina’s situation compelling and hoped that a guilty verdict on minor charges wouldn’t prevent her from winning asylum. The following February, the Judge sentenced her to a nine month jail term, all but two weeks she had already served. Remarking that her story of persecution and flight was credible, Judge Coffrin called for leniency.

It was a strange turn of events, leading some of us to think she might soon be free. But that was not to be. The Immigration and Naturalization Service had begun deportation proceedings.

Gray briefly also considered whether to convene a grand jury and seek new charges for perjury and conspiracy. Kunstler countered by filing a protest with the judge about how probation officials were conducting the pre-sentence investigation. Moved from Vermont to New York City, Kristina had been questioned without her lawyers present. 

        After the trial, I was one of several spokespersons for Kristina and the Defense Committee. Quoted extensively in a Nov. 29 UPI report, I restated Kunstler’s view “that they are asking questions that are irrelevant and that the information is being passed on to the West German authorities.” The next day, a satire appeared in The Vermont Cynic, UVM’s student newspaper. News of her New York transfer apparently hadn’t reached the campus yet.

BERSTER BREAKS OUT, shouted the headline. The story was a black comic tale of escape and death. “Aided by darkness and near blizzard conditions,” it began,  “a small group calling themselves the Green Mountain Boys sprung Kristina from the Chittenden County Correctional Center, where she was being held. Authorities confirmed the incident last night, and said at least two people died in the audacious pre-dawn move.” 

“Prison guard Mike Moskovitz was brought down by a hail of bullets fired by Burlington police as he pursued the gang into the woods surrounding the facility,” the story continued. “Left dead at the scene were two of the gang which sprung Ms. Berster. One of the victims is reported to be left writer Greg Guma, a member of the Kristina Berster Defense Committee, and another body has been temporarily lost by police in the snow drifts in Tuesday’s storm.

“When notified of the incident, the FBI immediately issued a “shoot to kill order.”

In the fantasy, Berster and the Boys made their way to Cavendish, where they sought asylum “in the closely-guarded estate of exiled Soviet author Alexander Solzenytsyn.” (He did live there but his home wasn’t guarded.) Kunstler vowed to defend Berster again, using the necessity defense. “She was being mishandled in jail and had no choice but to escape. Maybe this time Judge Coffrin will listen to me.”   

It was clever enough, just “fake news,” back when it was mostly harmless. But Berster supporters couldn’t fully enjoy it. I just wondered why I was the first to die. 

The defendant herself was skeptical that the US would ever allow her to stay, particularly not as long as that meant defying a close ally. The way she saw it, no one represented US interests in Europe more forcefully at the time than the Federal Republic of Germany. From monetary policy and trade to the stationing of nuclear missiles, it was to Western Europe what Iran, until the Shah fled, was to the Persian Gulf — a regional policeman. But West Germany had also committed itself to a policy of “counterterrorism” overkill that threatened civil liberties.

As the 1970s ended, repression was being legalized globally. After the kidnapping of Italy’s Aldo Moro produced a NATO alert throughout Europe, West Germany took the lead. Other countries, including the US, followed suit with their own commando units and “grassroots” networks of spies. In such a world, what to make of the Kristina Berster case? At the time few people suspected the whole truth. To some, it looked like a human rights issue. Victimized by shifting international politics, a student activist whose only crime was crossing a border to seek asylum had spent almost two years in prison, in Germany and then the US. He was essentially a political prisoner.

But there was even more to it. Berster’s case demonstrated how a government crusade against terrorism can become an excuse for self-serving propaganda, threatening anyone who actively attempts to change the way a society is run – from civil libertarians, lawyers and prison reformers to anti-nuclear protesters and feminists. Across the country, despite claims that the excesses of COINTELPRO were over, new reports were surfacing of harassment, covert agents provoking violence in nonviolent groups, wiretapping, political grand juries, and illegal surveillance. At the decade ended a chill set in, and terrorism became an excuse for virtually any tactic the government found effective. Like an unseen virus, demonization and repression were spreading. 

Returning to West Germany in late 1979, Kristina Berster was freed after the original charges against her were dropped. A “complex arrangement” was worked out between the two governments, making it possible for her to voluntarily return without a deportation order. She went back to school, continued her prison reform work, and eventually became a psychologist.

But her US misadventure revealed a few things — for example, that public officials, working with intelligence agents, were ready to lie in court and sanction illegal surveillance, and that some media outlets could be manipulated to distribute rumors and false narratives. Though the evidence remained circumstantial, it also appeared that Vermont had experienced a manufactured terrorist scare, an attempt to warp public perceptions for political advantage. The FBI had lied, so had the prosecutor. Anyone who supported the defendant was targeted for surveillance. There was even a simulated terrorist “siege,” a staged media event that played in the government’s false narrative.

It looked very much like a covert operation to influence public opinion, what would soon be named “perception management” by the Department of Defense. Basically, this involves both conveying and denying information, as circumstances require, “to influence emotions, motives, and objective reasoning.” That was the DoD’s definition, founded in a Pentagon document. The goal is to influence the perceptions of enemies, but sometimes also friends, and ultimately to provoke the behavior you want. 

As the Defense Department puts it, “Perception management combines truth projection, operations security, cover and deception, and psychological operations.” 

In the Reagan years the same tactics were euphemistically labeled “public diplomacy,” and expanded to explicitly include domestic disinformation during the Bush I administration. In those days it was mainly about stoking fear of communism, Nicaragua’s Sandinistas, Qaddafi in Libya, and anyone else on the Reagan and Bush hit lists. 

Clinton modifications were added in Directive 68, which still made no distinction between what could be done abroad and at home. When Bush II took office, the name was changed again, this time to “strategic influence.”

Unmasking such covert operations can have high costs, like being watched, losing your job, or worse. In this case, at least the victim was set free and the true story did get out — to some extent. National outlets ignored the verdict, of course. But the Village Voice did buy my feature story, and then send a “kill fee” shortly before publication. In other words, they paid me not to run it. A shorter version later appeared in WIN, the War Resisters League monthly. 

Alex Cockburn gave two main reasons for the Voice’s late decision to back out: the suggestion that Andreas Baader might have been murdered in jail, and, more to the point, an ownership change. Australian press magnate Rupert Murdoch had just bought a controlling stake in the parent corporation. 

Back in Burlington, Jim Martin, the editor who fired me, lasted only a few months. Before the end of the year I was back, this time as co-editor. And a government “perception management” campaign had been derailed. Enough people had seen through the fog of information war. But the battle was just beginning.


NEXT: MAY DAY & THE FIRST RED SCARE

Greg’s investigation of covert operations and perception management continues in another eight-part series on the infamous MKULTRA program: Unwitting: The Secret War on William Pierce.

Staff of the Vanguard Press outside our College Street office. Greg is behind the hat. The weekly hosted a crew of hungry young journalists, activists and thinkers who shook up the status quo. An alternative newspaper wasn’t a political movement, but the dividing line was less than obvious.


False Narrative: Eight Chapters

Thursday, April 13, 2023

False Narrative 6: The Crackdown

 In the 1970s constitutional rights in West Germany were seriously eroded by repressive laws, censorship and a job ban. Dissent was no longer being tolerated. The prescription for crisis was prior censorship, confiscations, blacklisting, detention, a Radical Decree, and much more.

By Greg Guma

Chapter Six

The Crackdown

Despite the growing risks facing her in West Germany, Kristina Berster continued to fight for small improvements like allowing prisoners to see and hear one another. But reforms faced new obstacles. Not only did public sentiment harden against the Red Army; the Right, prodded by the Springer newspaper chain, pushed through more repressive laws. 

A Decree on Radicals, passed in 1972, denied “a position of civil service…if the candidate has been politically active in either an extreme rightist or leftist group.” Any doubt about a person’s support for the “free democratic basic order” would henceforth be sufficient grounds for blacklisting. It was an effective job ban in a country with 16 percent of workers in this sector.

The Decree also permitted the executive branch to create political isolation without directly banning political parties. Instead, it created a category of “constitutional enemies.” Acts no longer had to be proven; the job ban punished attitudes, and the enemies list extended to “sympathizers” who were indifferent to or critical of the state’s war on terrorism.

A prominent target was writer Heinrich Boll, who had criticized the demagoguery of the Springer press. One of the country’s leading authors, he had won the Nobel Prize for Literature for his ironic novels on Post World War II Germany and its changing psychology. Nevertheless, conservatives tried to ban his books and the police harassed his son. His hate mail was signed, he once said sardonically, while the complimentary notes were apt to be anonymous.

By this time, Kristina and her co-defendants became convinced that a fair trial was impossible. There was considerable evidence that the outcome was rigged: exclusion orders against their lawyers, poor treatment of prisoners, new repressive laws and right-wing propaganda. In an open letter to the court they announced that they weren’t showing up, and instead intended to hold a counter-trial at which they could present themselves for public judgment. A huge audience, traveling from across Western Europe, attended the event. But many left confused.

Disagreement erupted over the use of violence. Many who attended were attracted to it; Berster rejected the idea. Nevertheless, she was also persuaded that the official trial wouldn’t be just, and stuck with those who decided not to appear.

She didn’t believe she would have to become a fugitive — at first. But when “wanted” posters went up it seemed clear that she wouldn’t be free for long if she remained in West Germany. By 1973 the national mood was grim, much akin to the repressive climate of the Nixon years, especially when the anti-war movement splintered and the country reeled from police violence and politically-motivated assassinations. By the time Bacchus, the informer whose testimony had originally implicated Kristina, recanted she was out of the city, living on the edge, cut off from family and friends.

Maybe leaving had been a mistake, she thought. But it was too late to turn back.

Five years later, while Berster was in Montreal looking for a way into the US, a German lawyer back home was being convicted of “conspiracy” for assisting his clients to maintain their identities. Kurt Groenwold, who had defended Red Army Faction leaders during the intervening years, was sentenced to two years in jail because his assistant provided support for the suspects. Defending “enemies of the state” in anything but a perfunctory manner had become grounds for a conspiracy charge.

It was the first in a series of similar cases. The court rejected Groenwold’s argument that his clients had the right to determine the nature of their own defense. Such a defense would “promote the ideas of the defendants.” And those ideas were apparently too dangerous to be heard.

The new crackdown on left-leaning lawyers was not a surprise. German attorneys had already been disbarred and indicted on similar charges. This served as a major incentive for William Kunstler to take Kristina’s case after she was caught at the border. Groenwold’s conviction reminded Kunstler of what had happened to Kristina’s first attorney.

After an early attempt to disbar lawyers in 1971, the federal parliament had passed amendments pointedly labeled “Lex Baader-Meinhof.” They provided prosecutors with legal grounds to bar overly-aggressive lawyers, to limit the number of lawyers on a case, and to exclude defendants from their own trials if the court believed that “they willfully caused their own unfitness.”

On March 11, 1975, Groenwold was excluded from the Baader-Meinhof trial. Three months later he was disbarred. He had “only been disbarred,” he thought, “perhaps because of my wealthy family associations…I have been lucky for now.” But criticism of the constitution or government had become a crime, and lawyers could now be jailed for objecting to prison conditions.

“Always the so-called liberals and social democrats come to power and make the state bigger and more powerful,” said Groenwold. “They think that if they do the work of the fascists, then the fascists will never come to power. But always, the fascists eventually come to power and then the social democrats are arrested by the very policemen they hired.”

In 1978, the Bertrand Russell Tribunal concluded that constitutional rights in Germany were being seriously eroded by repressive laws, censorship and a job ban. Perhaps those chilling effects were the price of its national preoccupation with order. In any case, dissent was no longer being tolerated. The prescription for social crisis was prior censorship, confiscations, blacklisting, detention, the Radical Decree, and much more.

There was also an unanticipated side effect: a new generation of terrorists. Even Andreas Baader, locked up for five years by the time former SS official Hans Martin Schleyer was murdered, disapproved of such actions. On the eve of his own mysterious death from gunshot wounds, Baader told a chancellery official that he had never approved of, and would never approve of, terrorism in its current form of brutal actions against uninvolved citizens.

By then, however, both the state and its enemies had gone beyond symbolic bombings and police riots. Despite protests from former Red Army supporters that terrorism provided an excuse for more repression, the violence of the new generation continued, capturing the imagination of disaffected young people. Danny Cohn-Bendit, who had moved to Germany from France after the 1968 student uprising there, concluded that the German Left was trapped in a battle that was a product of German society itself.

None of this made it into the court record during the Berster trial. It was one of several ironies of her situation. Rejecting the violence that had enveloped her homeland, she had left Germany only to be haunted by its specter, then exploited by the US intelligence community to justify excessive counter-terrorist tactics. 

Guilt by association was a cheap shot. But it made good copy and provided a flexible excuse for almost any tactic in response.


Next Week: Staging Terror


Monday, April 10, 2023

False Narrative 5: The Therapeutic State

 The Red Army Faction was launched in 1970 with the robbery of three West Berlin banks. Dark clouds began to descend as the government turned to extreme responses. Years later, Kristina Berster’s trial in Vermont revealed the long-term impacts — disinformation and guilt by association.




By Greg Guma


Chapter Five


The Therapeutic State


When Kristina Berster moved to Heidelberg in 1970 to study, Germany’s younger generation was restless and angry. The rhetoric had turned revolutionary since the days of “Ban the Bomb.” It paralleled the trajectory of American dissent. The American “New Left” had also passed a tipping point, sparked by the Chicago police riots and “days of rage” that launched the Weather Underground.

In West Germany, protests turned violent during demonstrations in Berlin and the 1968 bombing of two empty department stores in Frankfurt by Andreas Baader and Gudrin Ensslin. The purpose of the destruction, announced Baader, was “to light a beacon” against the consumer society. “We set fires in department stores so you will stop buying,” added Ensslin. “The compulsion to buy terrorizes you.” A radical anti-capitalist analysis, it struck at the core of German complacency in a time of intense economic development.

The couple and their accomplices were caught and convicted. But not before they found support from one of Germany’s leading leftist journalists, Ulrike Meinhof. Released in 1969 during the appeal of their cases, Baader and Ensslin went underground — with Meinhof’s help. On September 29, 1970, with the robbing of three West Berlin banks, the Red Army Faction was born. Attempting to justify the crimes, Baader explained that the first problem of the revolution was financial support.

Dark clouds began to descend. West German police turned to automatic weapons and extreme tactics. Anyone who looked like a “nonconformist” risked spontaneous interrogation. Roadblocks became common on the autobahn; new search, arrest and gun laws were passed. The excuse for such a broad extension of police powers was the nationwide search for the Baader-Meinhof group. It didn’t matter that the fugitives were responsible for only five of the 1,000 robberies committed during their heyday. 

Witnessing the isolation of prisoners and the alienation around her, Berster couldn’t accept it and do nothing. She was already steeped in political ideology and radical therapy. One US thinker who exerted a strong influence was Thomas Szasz, who wrote about the “myth of mental illness” and emergence of a therapeutic state. Szasz also inspired William Pierce, a Vermont mathematician who shared his story of covert harassment and involuntary commitment, years after blowing the whistle about security procedures and high-tech repression in the 1950s. That story is chronicled in Unwitting: The Secret War on William Pierce. 


Andreas Baader and Gudrun Ensslin in October 1968,

caught in a light moment by the Associated Press.


In Law, Liberty and Psychiatry Thomas Szasz proposed, “The parallel between political and moral fascism is close. Each offers a kind of protection. And upon those unwilling to heed peaceful persuasion, the values of the state will be imposed by force: in political fascism by the military and the police; in moral fascism by therapists, especially psychiatrists.”

Berster was fascinated by the emerging critique of institutional psychiatry, and repelled by German psychiatric units where patients had no rights and anything could be interpreted as crazy. A new criminal psychiatric unit was under construction in Heidelberg, geared toward mind control and the use of complete isolation. During the dispute over it, someone tried to set fire to the site.

The violence escalated with the shooting of several police officers. In response, the German government widened its dragnet to root out the conspiracy. Help came from an informer, Hans Bacchus, who had read books on guerrilla warfare before leaving the student scene. He subsequently supplied the police with a list of people he accused of radical activity or terrorist sympathies. One of the names was Kristina Berster.

Arrested again, she was charged with having “built up a criminal association.” The maximum sentence was five years. Even pre-trial detention meant serious time. Some suspects were being detained in solitary for long periods. It was exactly the type of treatment she had been protesting.

Berster spent the next six months in detention, watching the erosion of her right to legal counsel. Her lawyer’s office was raided. Police alleged that Eberhard Becker had photographic files of the Heidelberg police department’s employees. Although the evidence was never produced, he was barred from participating in her trial. Obstruction of justice charges were later leveled at two other attorneys representing defendants in the case.

A pattern of harassment aimed at defense lawyers was emerging. The pressure intensified with laws that permitted their exclusion from certain cases and holding trials without the presence of defendants. In reaction, more young people joined the Red Army Faction.

In early May 1971, the Red Army decided to strike at political targets in retaliation for the bomb blockade of North Vietnam. They hit an officer’s club in Frankfurt, the Augsburg Police Department, the parking lot of the State Criminal Investigation Office, and finally, on May 24, the US Army’s European Supreme Headquarters in Heidelberg. 

A month later they were caught. At first, many people thought the country would finally return to normal, the end of the state of emergency and attacks on civil liberties. Instead, the “emergency” was institutionalized.

Red Army leaders were locked in “wipe-out detention,” a luminous white world of total sterility in which fluorescent lights were always on and every window was covered. Their soundproof cells, filled with nothing but white noise, were in a section of Köln-Ossendorf prison called the Dead Wing, a place off limits to all visitors except lawyers and relatives. Reading material was heavily censored, and other prisoners were never seen or heard.

When Jean-Paul Sartre saw Baader after two years in the Dead Wing, he said, “This is not torture like the Nazis. It is torture meant to bring on psychic disturbances.” As it turned out, West Germany was merely ahead of the curve in developing extreme prison wards. Since then the same tactics have been introduced both in the US and Russia.

Such confinement is “the most effective way to destroy personality irreversibly,” Kristina told me during our jailhouse interview. “Humans are social. When you cut that off, when people are not able to talk or relate to others, an internal destruction begins. You become catatonic, and somatic problems begin.”


Next: The Crackdown


RAF leaders ended up in the notorious Stammheim Prison. Ulrike Meinhoff hanged herself there in 1976; Andreas Baader allegedly shot himself on October 18, 1977, known as the “Stammheim night of death.” The photograph was part of a project by Andreas Magdanz.