Arabs in Berlin say they feel scared, isolated, and confused by recent crackdowns
Written by Safa
Read this post in Español, Italiano, عربي
March 9, 2024
In Berlin, Arabs are reaching out to one another, extending private sanctuaries to grieve over Gaza. While the stifling of pro-Palestinian sentiments isn’t new, recent crackdowns in Germany have struck a deeper chord. Israel’s latest war on Gaza has killed at least 28,663 Palestinians and wounded 67,984 others so far.
Since October 7, Germany has intensified its crackdown on Palestinian identity and solidarity, stifling peaceful expression. Protests have been banned or cancelled, and authorities target individuals displaying Palestinian symbols, like the flag and keffiyeh. Furthermore, legitimate resistance phrases like “Free Palestine” and “From the river to the sea” have been criminalized.
Global Voices interviewed six Arabs in Berlin who expressed concerns about the crackdown on dissent and the erasure of Palestinian identity in Germany. For safety, their identities are undisclosed, and pseudonyms are used.
An overwhelming sense of fragility
Fouad, a 30-year-old graphic designer and Iraqi refugee living in Germany for a decade, expressed disappointment with Berlin’s lack of commitment to peace and freedom, stating:
“Though the crackdown isn’t new, this is the first time I’ve truly felt like a refugee in Berlin, which I used to see as a sanctuary. Germany is once again failing to stand on the side that calls for peace and freedom. It pains me that my tax money aids oppression. There is a negative energy everywhere. I feel watched, and I’m on high alert — I don’t feel safe.”
Fouad is not alone. Hanan, a 25-year-old Egyptian who moved to Germany as a teenager, is dismayed that her eight years in Germany have been marked by insincerity: “I felt safer before. I’m not afraid to confront racist comments or stares. It’s just that I used to feel safer in the company of genuine people who shared the same values and principles in life. Now, everything feels fake.”
Omniya, a 39-year-old, Egyptian-Polish woman born and raised in Germany, echoes their sentiments, feeling an ever-present risk of displacement. She expresses a similar longing for safety: “When I was a kid, one of my parents was deported. Now, politicians are discussing mass deportations. The right-wing party, AfD, is gaining power in parliament and garnering support, aiming to transform Germany into an ethno-state.
If AfD succeeds in implementing its agenda—along with other parties leaning in that direction— it could have severe consequences. I wouldn’t say I felt ‘safe’ before, but I felt ‘safer.’ Now, I feel very unsafe.”
Souad, a 36-year-old US-born Palestinian educator in Germany for over 10 years, shares feelings of confusion amidst the unpredictable regulations in the country. She pointed out:
“Germany changes the rules by the day, yet they are not officially documented anywhere. It is incredibly confusing. One day, saying “Free Palestine” is acceptable; the next, it’s ‘verboten’ (forbidden). Another day, discussing “genocide” is fine; then suddenly, it’s verboten. We will find ways to express ourselves, but we need clarity on what’s on their list. Why play mind games with us when our people are being slaughtered?”
Rania, a 40-year-old Palestinian-German humanitarian born and raised in Germany, questions the state of the political landscape in the country:
“It’s not fear that overwhelms me when I read the crazy headlines (labeling us as the new Islamists and advocating for deporting us), but sheer anger. The same anger I feel when the government I voted for abstains from the UN ceasefire referendum.
My true concern: Is there still a political party that individuals who identify as Black, Indigenous, and People of Colour (BIPOC) can trust?”
Marwa, a 35-year-old Jordanian engineer on a three-month fellowship to Berlin, felt unsettled throughout her stay.
“I felt unsafe in Berlin since I arrived at the airport. I was the only passenger stopped by the police for inspection because of my hijab and Arab Muslim looks.
My insecurity heightened since October 7, coinciding with the increased hate speech against Arabs and Muslims. Now, I feel compelled to justify why I am Muslim, why I am Arab, why I support Palestine.”
Echoes of post-9/11 Islamophobia and anti-Arab racism in Germany
Following Germany’s response to October 7, the interviewees drew parallels to their past negative experiences after 9/11. Their reflections underscore the enduring effects of discrimination, spanning different countries and contexts. They noted a reemergence of fear, grief, and Islamophobia in their lives. Souad pointed out:
“At 13, living in the US during 9/11, I endured one of the toughest periods, as Arabs and Muslims were dehumanized. Hearing white people celebrate the deaths of Arab and Muslim civilians left lasting scars. It took years to overcome the pain, but these recent months in Germany have reopened that wound.”
Omniya echoed similar disbelief and distress, saying:
“My current experience with the crackdown feels retraumatizing, given that I was coming-of-age during 9/11. Back then, I couldn’t believe how George Bush spoke about Arabs and Muslims and how everything led to the attack on Iraq. Now, witnessing the genocide in Gaza, I recognize parallels to the post-9/11 climate, evoking the same feelings.”
In contrast, Fouad shared his foreboding feelings about the future, explaining:
“The moment I saw the news [on October 7], I immediately thought of the consequences and felt grief for what’s to come. I contemplated how the West would interpret it. It brought back memories of 9/11 and the surge of Islamophobia that ensued.”
Friend’s reactions deeply hurt
The interviewees conveyed a profound isolation stemming from a lack of empathy from German society and feelings of betrayal in personal relationships and societal dynamics.
Hanan felt hurt after a former friend belittled her grief about Gaza, which she had shared on social media:
“This is the hardest one so far. I think about the good moments we shared as friends, yet I now feel very distanced from everyone. The feeling of betrayal impacts my sense of safety more than the ‘unsafe’ and violent racist comments we were used to before October 7.”
Omniya also feels isolated. She clarified:
“I feel extremely lonely all the time. German society not only fails to understand, but doesn’t want to understand. Even close friends have no idea of the depth of my sadness. They don’t reach out, and if they do, it’s for other reasons.
They are clueless about the impact on Arabs here. This isn’t confined to my friends; I see it everywhere. As Arabs, we share a collective feeling, but white people seem oblivious to it. Currently, I feel I cannot trust anyone.”
Rania explains the careful attention she gives to details when discussing Palestine:
“I shared statistics on civilian casualties in Palestine from the last two decades. As I clicked ‘share,’ my heart pounded, and I closed my eyes. I’m aware that most of my followers don’t want to read this content. However, I know what I’m talking about. I know my math. When I mention that the media doesn’t report on ‘our people,’ I’m addressing a specific issue.”
She said the Palestinians symbolize more than just the struggle for Palestine. “They represent the disregard for Arab lives that don’t matter, the BIPOC lives that don’t matter, and they are victims of colonialism.”
Four months since October 7, the situation for Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank continues to deteriorate. Despite the International Court of Justice‘s order for Israel to prevent acts of genocide, attacks on displaced Palestinians, mostly children, persist. Oxfam has declared “a humanitarian crisis of unprecedented severity and scale” in Gaza, highlighting the severity of the situation.
Germany’s export of millions of euros worth of weapons to Israel contradicts its commitment to human rights. The recent affirmation of support for Israel by the German Federal Government ignores the plight of Arabs and Muslims within Germany. This inconsistency cannot go unchallenged, as lives continue to be disregarded in Gaza and beyond.
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This article was originally published on Global Voices. Read the original article.