Anne is not afraid. But he is cautious. That’s because she has decided to stand up against right-wing and racist violence in the German capital Berlin and has faced hostility from right-wing extremists as a result – which is why DW is not using her real name.
The 30-year-old monitors the far-right scene in the Berlin district Marzan-Hellersdorf, documenting right-wing violence, propaganda and everyday racism. “There are neo-Nazis here who want to dominate the streets, who want to project a symbol of their control over the streets, who use stickers or graffiti to show: ‘We are here and this is our neighborhood,'” Anne told DW during a tour of the district.
In different neighborhoods of Berlin, there are young people like Anne who document right-wing and racist incidents to illustrate the extent of the danger. And they want to give a voice to those affected. “There are people who are threatened because their hair is pink,” Anne explained, “or because they wear a jacket from a supposedly leftist brand. We have had several neo-Nazi-inspired robberies here.”
Europe’s largest prefab housing estate
Marzan-Hellersdorf is a world of its own in the German capital. A vast district on the eastern edge of the city, it is full of contrasts: it is home to Europe’s largest prefab housing estate, built rapidly after the Second World War, to what is now a socially deprived area where one in four children is classified as living in poverty. At the same time, the district is rich in nature and green spaces – and attractive for families: Marzan-Hellersdorf is also home to Germany’s largest single-family and multi-family housing developments.
It takes just 20 minutes to travel by metro from Hellersdorf to AlexanderPlatz, the square in the heart of East Berlin with its giant TV tower – the city’s most prominent tourist attraction. But for many, the glittering city center seems too far away: “There are many young people who never leave the district,” says Anne. “It is also a harsh truth that this kind of neighborhood can take a toll on your entire life.”
For years, young neo-Nazis have been trying to gain a foothold in Berlin – especially in Marzan-Hellersdorf. Two groups have been at the forefront of police raids in Germany this week: Deutsche Jugend Voran (“German Youth Forward”) and Jung und Stark (“Young and Strong”). Both of them have become adept at using social media to spread hatred towards queer people, immigrants or political opponents. But here in Marzan-Hellersdorf, they also make their presence felt on the streets – as was the case with a violent attack during the LGBTQ community’s Christopher Street Day celebrations. Police said at the time that the two neo-Nazis were under the age of 14.
Nazi stickers and far-right symbolism
This xenophobia is not always immediately visible in the neighbourhood: many of the streets are beautifully laid out, with lots of flowers and trees. Everything is neat, quiet and clean. But the far-right undercurrent is still part of everyday life. During DW’s tour, a man on a bicycle rode past and yelled, “Heil Hitler.”
In Germany, this statement is publicly banned, along with the Nazi salute and many other Nazi paroles.
A few hundred meters down a busy road, a sticker stuck to a lamppost bears the racist slogan “Germany for Germans” next to the logo of a small neo-Nazi party.
Anne collects stories of people affected by hatred and violence: “People have called me and said: ‘I’m hiding right now – I’ve just escaped from a group of ten teenagers!'” Young people have been brutally beaten. “It’s a huge, escalating violence that people can feel. And if you’re young and anti-Nazi, think twice about how you dress.”
Gordon Lamm, deputy district mayor of Marzan-Hellersdorf, has also witnessed the spread of violence and hatred. A member of the center-left Social Democratic Party, Lemm grew up in this neighbourhood. He says that for some time now, gay people in particular have been targeted: “Unlike other areas of Berlin, there are no gay cafes here that are a normal part of the city’s landscape,” he told DW. “Here in the neighborhood we have less safe spaces. I’m hearing that young gay people are becoming less and less willing to look gay.”
Lamm has observed a growing backlash against liberal values among young people. “According to their views, women should return to traditional roles and men should become breadwinners,” he says. This reaction is also increasing due to increasing social insecurity. “I feel a certain coldness in my neighborhood. People keep to themselves and don’t want to stand out. They don’t want to be approached or looked at strangely. There’s a kind of protective wall that many people try to display through their appearance: hair cut as short as possible and clothes that outwardly show a certain strength, because they don’t want to be seen as victims. I see this again more evident in Marzan-Hellersdorf. It’s done.”
Everyday racism against immigrants
People like Farzaneh are the first to realize this. Like Anne, she is 30 and lives in Hellersdorf. Farzaneh wears a loose scarf on her head. Her family is from Afghanistan, but she herself was born in Iran, and they have lived in Hellersdorf for many years. She met Anne when she complained about everyday racism to the online registry berlin registerWhere users can report racist incidents they have experienced in Berlin.
“In my family’s building, an older woman insulted my mother: every time she saw my mother, she would say something insulting.” Farzaneh herself laughs at the hostility she faces in her daily life: the stars she encounters in the supermarket, on the subway, on the street. This is how racism begins for him. But she fights back. “I’m not weak just because I’m a woman. I can protect myself.”
And despite everything, she loves Berlin: “When I was in South Tyrol for a while recently, I missed multicultural Berlin.” She loves living in Germany and after several years – having graduated from high school and college – now wants to become a naturalized citizen. “The good thing about Germany is: you can at least report incidents [Federal] anti-discrimination office. He does not exist in Iran. At least here, you can defend yourself.”
Barbara Jungnikel also wants to stand up for herself. Once a week, she opens her converted construction trailer in the center of Hellersdorf, which she calls a “café on wheels”, where she invites neighbors for coffee and cookies. Jungnikel is a community teacher for the local Protestant church.
She wants to start a conversation with anyone. “I don’t push the conversation in any particular direction, I don’t want to do that,” she tells DW.
They launched their café project in 2013, when a shelter for refugees opened in the neighborhood. “Rightists from all over Germany came here to march in the streets and shout, ‘No shelter.’ And we, as a church community, were amazed to see how many neighbors just ran after them and yelled with them.”
The café may be a modest starting point for combating xenophobia, but it is proof that every single person can make a difference. Barbara Jungnickel, Anne, Farzaneh, and Deputy Mayor Gordon Lamm – they all refuse to hand the city over to an aggressive minority. They are fighting against what has become a worrying trend in Germany.
This article was translated from German.