Karl-Heinz Bomberg: Therapy cannot erase mental scars, but it can help people live with them.
KK:
You were imprisoned in the GDR and later became a psychotherapist and psychoanalyst. My first question is: what led you to choose this profession? Were your experiences formative in this decision?
KB:
Before becoming a psychotherapist and psychoanalyst, I was a physician, specifically an anesthesiologist. In Germany, there are two paths toward becoming a psychoanalyst: one through psychology and one through medicine. I came from the medical path.
As a young physician, I was imprisoned because of critical songs I had written and performed. After my imprisonment, the state security had to decide what to do with me. They reached a compromise: I would stop my work as a songwriter but continue working as a physician, which was needed in East Germany.
This compromise allowed me to remain in the system, unlike many colleagues and friends who either escaped or were forced out. I stayed, and through this position I remained very closely connected to prisoners and people attempting to escape. Escape was part of everyday reality in East Berlin. It was discussed daily; it was present everywhere. At that time, I believed in the possibility of changing the system from within. I hoped for a “better socialism,” influenced by figures such as Alexander Dubček, the Prague Spring, and ideas of nonviolent resistance, such as those of Mahatma Gandhi.
KK:
How long were you imprisoned?
KB:
Formally, the charge against me was “subversive agitation,” which carried a possible sentence of two to ten years. However, due to a compromise, I was released after three months. I was allowed to continue working as a physician, though under close surveillance and with certain punishments. During that time, I was heavily surveilled.
After completing these punishments, I was able to finish my specialization in anesthesiology. When the Peaceful Revolution succeeded, I was already a fully trained medical doctor. At that point, I began a second specialization in psychotherapy, which in Germany includes psychoanalytic training. I am first a therapist, and second an oppositionist. The Peaceful Revolution was my subject.
KK:
Did your later therapeutic work connect directly to your experiences of persecution?
KB:
Very much so. After the Peaceful Revolution, I began working with survivors, former prisoners and people who had attempted to escape. Even successful escapes often resulted in severe trauma. The fear of being shot was overwhelming, and these moments returned later through triggers. I treated people who had witnessed friends being shot at the border, one falling into the West, the other arrested and sentenced to many years in prison. These were life-and-death moments, followed by long-term imprisonment and psychological damage.
Today, I work therapeutically with such people and teach younger practitioners about these experiences, not to “heal” completely, because healing is too big a word, but to relieve suffering. Psychoanalytic therapy cannot erase mental scars, but it can help people live with them. This work is a special task for me because I know these experiences personally. I can empathize deeply, but I must also maintain enough distance from my own persecution. People from outside often have too much distance; they do not know these experiences. I know them, but my challenge is to create professional distance.
KK:
How would you describe the political trauma these people experience, especially in prison cells?
KB:
Prison trauma includes isolation, guilt, shame, and fear. Political prisoners were often mixed with violent criminals. Guards did not intervene; this was considered part of the punishment. In women’s prisons, such as Hoheneck, young political prisoners were mixed with older guards from Nazi times. Power relations, sexual violence, and forced protection structures were part of survival.
In my own imprisonment in 1984, physical violence was less visible due to international pressure after the Helsinki Accords. Instead, psychological destruction was used, so-called Zersetzung. False messages were delivered: your wife has left you; your children are ill; your friends are dead. This destabilization was systematic.
KK:
How did you personally cope with this situation?
KB:
Meditation and yoga.
KK:
They allowed you to do these practices in prison?
KB:
Yes, meditation and reading were allowed, singing was forbidden. At first, the state security suspected this was conspiratorial, but I argued it was necessary for my health. Believing in a possible release was essential. I accepted compromises to survive. Others who escaped often had no perspective, no education, no professional future. Leaving one’s home is not an easy decision. Even after arriving in the West, many struggled deeply.
Freedom is powerful, but people underestimate the loss of social networks, familiar values, and political awareness. People in the Eastern Bloc were often more politically conscious. The system did not aim to create free individuals, but paradoxically, it produced politically engaged people. I am more socially oriented than many of my Western colleagues. Western societies offered freedom, but also individualism and narcissism.
KK:
You have written several books on trauma. What is the central message of your writing?
KB:
The core message is that chronic and complex trauma cannot be fully healed, but it can be relieved. Psychoanalytic therapy helps people process painful experiences, but something always remains, a mental scar. One of my books is titled Mental Scars, another Healing Wounds. My most recent book, What People Do to People, addresses the dangers of dictatorship and war, and emphasizes the necessity of freedom and responsibility. It analyzes the mechanisms of violence and domination through the lens of human history.
I also draw on the work of psychoanalysts and philosophers who studied perpetrators and victims, such as Erich Fromm, Roger Money-Kyrle, and Stavros Mentzos, as well as historical thinkers like Erasmus of Rotterdam. I see human violence not as something innate, but as something that emerges from social overstretching, inequality, and systems of domination. We now have enormous possibilities, but also enormous dangers. Pressing the wrong button could end everything. That is why peaceful thinking, responsibility, and freedom are essential.
KK:
How does trauma manifest in the everyday lives of former political prisoners?
KB:
Trauma affects many aspects of life. One major consequence is damaged professional development. Many people were unable to study or work in their chosen fields. Even later, it was often too late to rebuild a career.
Therapy is one part of addressing this, but social recognition is equally important. Society must acknowledge that what happened was unjust. Germany has developed a compensation system for political persecution. Democracy can help relieve some of the long-term consequences of trauma. Laws have improved over time. Today, former political prisoners in East Germany are recognized at a level comparable to soldiers returning from war zones like Afghanistan, in terms of traumatic impact. Recognition includes both symbolic rehabilitation and financial compensation. In the early 1990s, compensation was paid per day of imprisonment, around 50 Deutsche Marks per day. Later, a victim’s pension was introduced for those imprisoned longer than 90 days.
Initially, people who continued working or earning were excluded. A newer law recognizes that these individuals also suffered. I belong to a minority who managed to study and work successfully, but even so, the law now acknowledges our suffering as well. I began receiving compensation recently, decades after the events. It is symbolic not only for me, but for my family. Germany is often studied internationally for its rehabilitation systems, both regarding Nazi persecution and communist repression. People from Iraq, Cambodia, Chile, Argentina, and Eastern Europe come to learn from this model.
KK:
How does political trauma differ from emotional and personal trauma? Are there experiences even possible to heal?
KB:
Trauma embeds itself deeply in the body and psyche. Therapy, social networks, professional opportunities, and compensation all contribute to relief, but bureaucracy remains difficult. Many former perpetrators remained in institutional positions after the revolution, making recognition slow and contested. Trauma can arise from private, familial, societal, or political causes. Criminal trauma exists, too, but the difference is moral and historical. A murderer remains a criminal across systems. A political prisoner may later be recognized as having been right.
History is full of political prisoners, Vaclav Havel, Mahatma Gandhi, and Nelson Mandela. They were criminalized by law, but later vindicated. I was imprisoned for singing critical songs; after the Peaceful Revolution, this was recognized as unjust. That is the key difference between political and criminal trauma. Emotionally, trauma functions very similarly across contexts, whether it originates in family abuse, criminal violence, or political persecution. The psychological mechanisms are comparable. The key difference lies in historical and moral recognition. Political prisoners were criminalized by the state, but later recognized as victims once the system changed. This recognition matters deeply.
One crucial mechanism in trauma is identification with the perpetrator. This happens both in abused children and in prisoners. When someone depends on an aggressor for survival, separation becomes impossible. This is a highly complex process, akin to exorcising an internalized “devil.” The perpetrator exists strongly within the victim, and finding a new internal position is difficult. The perpetrator becomes part of the self, an invisible wound. Therapy aims to separate from this internalized aggressor. This is a slow, complex process, requiring trust, distance, and sometimes confrontation. Therapy aims to help patients separate themselves from this internalized perpetrator. It can be addressed mentally or directly, for example, by visiting prisons and meeting former perpetrators. This approach is similar to mechanisms observed in abused children, and it is crucial for self-regulation. It is extremely difficult, but necessary. Recovery relies on building post-traumatic strengths and forming supportive relationships. Overcoming isolation is critical, as many victims remain lonely and fearful of others due to their prison experiences. Establishing social connections and professional engagement is essential because humans are inherently social beings.
KK:
In your opinion, do you think the reconciliation can ever be achieved?
KB:
Private reconciliation, with oneself or within one’s family, may be possible. Reconciliation with state security or perpetrators is much more difficult and sometimes impossible. Healing requires both individual therapy and societal recognition. In Germany, legal rehabilitation and financial compensation acknowledge that what happened was wrong. This restores dignity. The goal is not necessarily reconciliation, but acceptance: recognizing that something unjust happened and that one is no longer defined by it.
KK:
Finally, I would like to ask a more philosophical question. After your imprisonment, did you ever wonder whether you had gone too far in your pursuit of freedom?
KB:
Freedom is a central human need. Without freedom, personal development is endangered. However, freedom is not an isolated concept; it exists within social structures, relationships, and responsibilities. True freedom involves boundaries. It is not limitless individualism, but freedom within a social network. This is a philosophical, political, and psychological question.
I believe that striving for freedom is essential, but it must be connected to responsibility, empathy, and social awareness. Freedom without responsibility becomes destructive; responsibility without freedom becomes oppression. True freedom is connected to becoming oneself, not serving the state or authority as property. It is a philosophical, political, and psychological question. For me, freedom was, and remains, worth the risk.
Karl-Heinz Bomberg is a songwriter and author who was imprisoned in the GDR for three months for writing lyrics critical of the regime. The practicing doctor retained his terse and pointed tongue even after reunification. Today, the singer tours Germany and Europe, dissecting the political landscape and social injustice in his songs. Besides his songs, Bomberg has also expressed himself politically as an author, while also publishing several children’s books and numerous scientific articles. He has made himself heard in the media landscape as well, contributing to a number of productions by the RBB and MDR broadcasters and publishing articles in the weekly Focus or the daily Die Welt. He continues to digest his experiences as a GDR citizen as an author of the journal Horch und Guck (‘Listen and Look’). Karl-Heinz Bomberg lives in Berlin with his family and works as a doctor, frequently giving lectures on, among other topics, the psychological effects of repression in the GDR. (Available from https://www.zeitzeugenbuero.de/zeitzeugensuche/zeitzeuge/bomberg-karl-heinz/en)