The so-called “anti-Semitism resolution“ passed by the German Parliament in November 2024 stipulated, among other things, that “budgetary regulations” should be put in place to prevent alleged anti-Semitic content or actors from receiving public funding for media and cultural work.
The resolution received widespread criticism before it passed, including in the public media – ultimately to no avail.
Concerns have been raised that the resolution will pave the way for further censorship of freedom of expression, academic freedom, and artistic freedom. However, it is not the first policy of its kind. The “anti-Semitism scandals” surrounding the Documentas 2022 and 2023 as well as the Berlinale 2024 have already caused a worldwide stir.
The impact of shrinking discursive spaces
In contrast, the experiences of numerous small artists and employees in the cultural and social sectors have largely gone unnoticed. For some time now, and especially since October 2023, many of them have faced the harsh reality of what it means when the discursive space disappears – or more precisely: is drastically shifted to the right.
The discursive space involves fundamental rights such as:
- Freedom of opinion
- Freedom of research
- Freedom of information
- Freedom of art
These individuals are learning first-hand that “discourse” is not simply an academically dressed-up and clever-sounding term for “discussion”, as is often assumed.
A struggle for physical and social space: Voices from the field
According to Foucault, “discourse” is an instrument of power. It also shows that the “space” does not necessarily have to be an imaginary or social one. It is increasingly about very real, physical spaces: spaces that are denied and revoked from artists, cultural workers, scientists, speakers, and politically or socially engaged individuals.
This, in turn, is often linked to another area that is both a physical and a social space: the workplace. Those who work as freelancers are dependent on spaces in which they can present themselves and their work.
People from the fields of art and culture, social work, refugee aid, and knowledge transfer report on all of this below. Not all of them are willing to give their full names in public. This is understandable, given the experiences they describe:
- Exclusion
- racist hostility
- stalking
- public defamation
- dismissal
They are not isolated cases. And their reactions are multifaceted – fear, depression, anger, protest – but the effect is similar: extreme alienation.
Nadia (30): From German to Palestinian
Until October 7, 2023, she hardly identified as Palestinian, says Nadia. For this reason, and because she is also “German”, she had no problems in her field of work until then.
Political activism and its impact on work as a freelance artist
“It was only the events of October 7 and their consequences worldwide that brought me closer to my own Palestinian identity. This was accompanied by an incomprehensible powerlessness that almost pulled the rug out from under my feet.”
She became politically active. This, in turn, quickly had an impact on her work: “Within an ongoing project, I had the experience that a person working in collaboration began to exert massive pressure on me privately.” She was accused of spreading “fake news”, blackballed by her colleagues and ultimately, this person left the project “because I did not publicly distance myself from my position on Palestine.” Soon after, another person also left the project. Despite this, she notes, “Fortunately, the project could still be carried out successfully because the core of the group remained in solidarity and did not allow itself to be taken over in any other way.”
Facing public scrutiny
Nadia also caught the attention of a neo-conservative online blog called “Ruhrbarone”, first privately and later through one of her music projects, because she performed at a cultural event to mark Nakba Day. The blog spreads open racism against Muslims, Arabs, and Palestinians. Even Meran Mendel from the Anne Frank Educational Center accused the operators of publicly spreading “explicit fantasies of extermination” against Palestinians. Nevertheless, the blog enjoys a wide reach especially in terms of its cultural reporting. Naturally, she is worried about the future: “Those who want to agitate against us and silence us know exactly where it hurts the most: freelance artists are dependent on their external perception, it’s the only way they can make their work accessible to a wide audience. If your reputation is damaged because you have a stigma attached to you, such as “Hamas sympathizer” or “terrorist trivializer” or some other fantasy title, then you can neither pursue your work nor your activism.”
The struggle for solidarity in the face of backlash
The answer to this can only be solidarity, she says, especially among artists, but also from consumers. So far, however, this has largely failed to materialize. Art and cultural spaces in particular have refused to do so, often not out of conviction but out of fear of losing public funding: “This racist and inhuman blog publicly incites hatred against all artists and cultural workers who try to support Palestine in any way. And the funding bodies and politicians, as well as most artists and cultural workers and publicly funded spaces, tuck their tails and nod like doddering dachshunds. Or remain silent, embarrassed. There’s nothing in between at the moment.”
The failure of institutional support for Palestinian solidarity
One example of this is a socio-cultural center in the West German city of Bochum, which claims to combine “culture with socio-political content”. A photo exhibition with pictures from Gaza was supposed to take place there last September. It was all organized by the left-wing international law expert Norman Paech, who was also supposed to come to Bochum for the opening. However, following an article in the online blog “Ruhrbarone”, the center withdrew its commitment – out of concern for the loss of its funding. According to Paech, the exhibition was already in Bochum when the decision to cancel the event was made. In this context, Nadia also emphasizes the dilemma of these institutions:
“Ultimately, the responsibility lies with the politicians. Such institutions depend on funding and have to pay their salaries and so on.”
Rahim (37): A political refugee in Germany
Rahim is a Syrian Arab who came to Germany as a political refugee and worked for several years at a socio-cultural center. Shortly after October 7, 2023, people from his team wanted to publish a public statement on the events in and around Gaza.
“I was against it and I said: so many wars have taken place, but we never spoke out. Why now with this one? And that was the beginning, where you quickly saw that there were different opinions here.”
From open dialogue to division
Until then, the center had been open to a wide range of opinions, to exchanges and the presentation of different points of view. Now it had become “typically German”, as Rahim says:
“I was the only one who was pro-Palestine. Everyone else, all the Germans, were pro-Israel without question. They had these typical German narratives in their heads.” He had the feeling that “everyone had the same opinion without having studied the topic and formed their own opinion.” In addition, “of course they were all for peace”, which ultimately meant that they were silent about the crimes against the Palestinians.
Rahim continued to work at the center for almost six months. “During these four or five months, we didn’t have any discussions about this topic, even though it was an issue everywhere, including in Germany.” Nevertheless, he has the feeling that some people have realized over time that something is wrong: “They know that what they believe in somehow doesn’t correspond to reality. But they don’t want to deal with it, they just want to get on with their lives. Because it bothers them.”
Racist rhetoric and its aftermath
In December 2023, an event was held with a representative of the so-called “Research and Information Center for Anti-Semitism” (RIAS), who also sat on the executive committee of the German-Israeli Society. The speaker had made such openly racist and anti-Muslim statements that even some of Rahim’s colleagues admitted afterwards that this event had been a mistake.
However, this didn’t change anything in the long term. After a Palestinian cultural group’s request was met with the response that they would first need to have a personal conversation to “get to the bottom of it” – a response contrary to how similar requests were usually handled – Rahim felt the measure was full: “This other guy was immediately invited and even paid. And these people only wanted to dance or do theater, symbolic things. And that was scrutinized as if they were criminals.”
Resignation as a stand
Rahim then resigned. It wasn’t a difficult decision for him:
“I knew I had to do this now. Fortunately, I found another job straight away. But that didn’t bother me at the time. It was much more important to me that it was the right thing to do. The people in Gaza lose much more than we do here.” Nevertheless, the whole thing still visibly weighs on him a year later. “It hasn’t been talked about to this day. And it still makes me angry.”
Samar (41): From Karachi to Darmstadt
Samar was born in Karachi and grew up in Germany. She has lived in the City of Darmstadt since 2006, where she works in the social sector and has also been involved in refugee aid on a voluntary basis for almost ten years.
She interprets, fights against deportations, and gives talks.
Commitment to social justice and refugee aid
Her main focus is Pakistan, the country of her parents. Until October 2023, she was invited by various organizations as a speaker and expert.
“Even after October 7, there were dates set to speak,” she says, ”but then they were canceled. Because of alleged anti-Semitism.” Several refugee organizations, human rights groups and initiatives against detention pending deportation also turned their backs on her: “They simply stopped responding to my emails, my pleas or requests for support for people in detention. And I was also invited to events less and less often.” She’s not the only one to feel the effects of this; it’s mainly affecting those she’s trying to help: “I try to solve the clients’ problems on my own, but it’s very difficult for me to do it alone. Above all, I don’t have the financial resources. I used to get them from supporters and groups.”
“Solidarity” fades when Palestine needs it most
Samar is now very resigned when it comes to refugee solidarity in Germany:
“All these people who canceled me are ‘for human rights’ and are fighting for a ‘fair asylum policy’ – but when it comes to the Palestinians, human rights, and solidarity with refugees stop with them. That is inhumane and hypocritical.”
Paulina (36): A Palestinian identity in the diaspora
She is Palestinian from Bethlehem, but was born and raised in the Arab community of Santiago de Chile – “the largest Palestinian diaspora in the world outside the Arab countries,” as she proudly emphasizes.
She works in various cities in Germany’s largest federal state, North Rhine-Westphalia, as a dancer, choreographer, dance mediator, curator, and project manager in various initiatives.
The shock of the aftermath of October 7
When asked what impact October 7, 2023 had on her personally, she replies first and foremost: “Since then, I have been in a state of severe shock, as I have to observe the genocide of the Palestinian people live every day. The extent of the destruction of lives in Gaza, of communities that have already been displaced and dispossessed two or three times, is particularly shocking.” Only then does she talk about herself and her life in Germany: “I can hardly bear the hatred against Arabs and Muslims. Both were already there before, but it has become even worse since October last year. The most common violation I experience is being denied my identity as a Palestinian: I am not allowed to exist.”
She is now insulted all too often: statements such as “Fucking Arabs” or “Fuck Palestine” are now part of everyday life.
These hardships did not stop at her working life: she was once intimidated by a project manager of a well-known cultural center and stalked on social media. As her client, he had access to personal data, including her private address. “As a migrant and woman of color in Germany,” she feels defenseless in this situation: ”If something happens to me – who do I call? The police? They are particularly violent against Palestinians.”
Racialized rejection
Paulina also receives many rejections in application processes, often explicitly on the grounds that the topic of Palestine is “dangerous”. Three people also withdrew from long-term projects with her – “quite suddenly, always out of fear of getting involved in the topic of Palestine.” Among her colleagues and at the university, she encountered almost nothing but disinterest and rejection. “Everyone goes to queer parties, where, by the way, Arabs are often not welcome. And they find it “annoying” that I post about Palestine on Instagram. I’ve received complaints, including from the manager of a well-known queer bar in my city.” At one event, colleagues of hers had also thrown a person out of the venue for wearing a kuffiyeh. “Afterwards, they even defended this racially motivated act,” she reports angrily.
The absence of solidarity with Palestine
Although there is so much talk about intersectionality, Muslims and Arabs in Germany experience “no solidarity from feminist, queer, left-wing, BIPOC, or climate activism spaces, as is the case in other contexts,” she notes with resignation. “For us Palestinians in Germany, the political discourse is a circus. It’s absurd to see colleagues getting upset about cuts in the cultural sector, but not giving a minute’s thought to the problems of racialized and migrant people – who they ultimately treat as ‘sub-human’. It is equally shocking to observe that everyone is afraid of the AfD, while the entire majority society, with its coldness and indifference, is already dangerously close to fascism. We are experiencing a mixture of naivety and arrogance at the highest level – and we are supposed to endure this while we witness the genocide of our people in Palestine day and night.”
When asked if she is afraid of the future, she promptly replies: “I’m not afraid.”
She then adds: “Only financial worries and depression. I am privileged to live in a rich country like Germany, and yet enduring such an extremely racist society is unhealthy. Every time I express my emotions, I am not met with empathy, but with rejection. That destroys me psychologically.”
Ibrahim (26): From Duisburg to political rap
His friends call him Ibo. He performs publicly under the stage name “Tenor” and makes political music. He was born and raised in the West German City of Duisburg and his parents are from Turkey. He studies and gives rap workshops in schools, youth centers, cultural associations, and youth prisons in Duisburg and the surrounding area.
The fallout after October 2023
“As someone who draws attention to injustice both as an artist and as a political figure, I have always campaigned against the suffering of the Palestinians.” This was apparently not a problem until October 2023. But then two of his projects were terminated at short notice. “The reason was my stance on Palestine. I have two principles: Firstly, every oppressed people has the right to defend themselves. No one has to endure violence. And secondly, I stand for a free Palestine where people of every religion and origin can live with equal rights. That is the stance for which I was dismissed.”
Dismissal without dialogue
However, the way the whole thing went down was particularly disappointing for him:
“The most fatal thing was the way it was handled. Both projects with me were simply stopped without even talking to me. It was only afterwards that I was even offered a conversation, which of course I could no longer take seriously.” He has deliberately not gone public with his case so far: “It was difficult for me because the facilities are important and useful for the children. I was thinking about the children – ultimately in complete contrast to the institutions themselves…” He has recently been in contact with one of the two institutions again. “They have reflected on their misconduct and are now more aware and sensitive to the suffering and resistance of the Palestinians.”
Shared experiences and hidden identities
Ibrahim also knows other people who had a similar experience to his own. In one of the two projects, he worked with a friend who was also dismissed. However, he finds the case of a colleague who “came out” to him in confidence as a Palestinian particularly bad:
“Everyone else thought she was Moroccan. That was a conscious decision on her part to escape the current anti-Palestinian racism in social work.”
Daniel (29): Local history museum guide
Daniel has worked at the Historical Museum in the city of Frankfurt since 2019, and from 2021 has also been a guide to local history during the Nazi era.
Palestine protest and the loss of work
That came to an end in June 2024: “At the end of May, I was one of the press spokespeople for the Palestine protest camp ‘Hind’s Garden’ on the Goethe University campus. On June 12 and 18, I was then called by my supervisor. She told me that there were “concerns” about my statements at the camp and at a demonstration and that I would therefore “for the time being” no longer receive any assignments as a guide and public relations officer from the museum. However, she didn’t tell me which specific statements this was supposedly about. That’s why I couldn’t take a position.”
He then demanded an interview, which he has been refused to date without explanation.
A personal connection to Palestine raises the question of safety
Daniel’s parents are Georgian and his father is a practicing Jew. When Daniel’s mother was pregnant with him, they fled their home. They almost went to Isdud/Ashdod, a city that should have been part of the planned Arab-Palestinian state according to the 1947 UN partition plan, but was depopulated and annexed by Israel in 1948. As Daniel had emphasized in one of the speeches objected to by his superior, Isdud/Ashdod is only about 35 kilometers away from the Gaza Strip.
“Would that have been a safe space for me if I had become a soldier today who had to kill Palestinians?” he asks rhetorically. “Perhaps I would be protected if I were directing drones financed by the West from afar, with which I would massacre civilians. Perhaps I would be protected if I were a sniper shooting children from a great distance. But I wouldn’t be in a shelter. No state that does this can demand that those affected don’t defend themselves.” Security only exists “when all people are free and live in equality.”
Daniel is one of the few who are fighting back and going public.
A solidarity campaign for Daniel grows
More than 1500 people and 45 organizations and parties have now signed an open letter to the museum under the motto “Let Daniel work again”. Among them are numerous scientists and professors, teachers and educators, politicians and cultural workers. At the same time, a dispute had developed at the Hans Böckler Foundation, which is close to the trade union and where Daniel was a scholarship holder until the summer. He had campaigned for solidarity among his fellow scholarship holders and some had signed the open letter. As a result, they were threatened – albeit indirectly – with the loss of their funding. In the meantime, the Böckler Foundation’s Scholarship Conference has passed a resolution criticizing the Foundation’s actions. In the letter, those responsible are accused of “stigmatizing” Daniel, “prohibiting” an open discussion among the scholarship holders and “trivializing” and “distorting” the “alleged genocide in Gaza”.
