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La France Insoumise prepares for a hot autumn

Report on FI summer school and larger impacts on the French left


27/08/2025

Members of the France Insoumise party on a float during a parade. Some are triumphantly raising fists.

Well over four thousand people attended the radical left France Insoumise (FI, “France in Revolt”) summer school in Valence, in the South of France, this weekend. Around five hundred of them had spent two days previously at a young people’s event for activists under 26.

Meetings at the summer school ranged from “Introduction to Historical materialism” with Stathis Kouvélakis to “Building a Young People’s Antifascist Movement Across Europe” to “Is the Nation a left wing idea?” Among the 110 debates and round tables, there were meetings on secularism, Islamophobia, the conflict between China and the US, racism at work, housing injustice, defending the climate, building local branches, pesticides, animal rights, police violence, Palestine, extractivism, and fighting homophobia.

While this is a sharply radical organization, it is not a revolutionary Marxist one. Thus, many talks emphasized relying on the United Nations, and changing the laws on racism or sexism. But the insurgent tone of the movement was very real. In a situation where many forces are calling for a yellow-vest style day of action on September 10th, Jean-Luc Mélenchon said in his (two hour!) keynote speech, “We need a general strike on the tenth of September.” He also said that if in coming years the France Insoumise is elected as the government, the role of the activists will not be to obey but “to be in revolt everywhere.”

Islamophobia was spoken of in many meetings and was central to Mélenchon’s keynote––something absolutely unheard of on the French Left. The FI is attacked everywhere in the right wing and left wing press for its principled stand against Islamophobia, and it is now recognized as the leading force which has brought about a sea change in left attitudes to Islamophobia in France. There were also a number of activists present, many of them Muslim, who were pushing for the FI to go further against Islamophobia and demand the abrogation of the 2004 law which bans Muslim headscarves in high schools (the FI is divided on this).

A series of meetings was organized on local politics, since the municipal elections, which happen every six years, will take place in March 2026. Six years ago, the FI was smaller and unable to stand in many towns. This year the plan is to stand in as many towns as possible. Some FI proposals, such as not allowing municipal police officers to be armed, are already hitting the headlines. The talks covered experiences of left councils today, from Naples and across Spain, historical examples of radical left local councils, and debates on specific challenges today, such as reversing the privatization of water supply, building social housing, and so on. Left mayors, who in France are local council chiefs, spoke at several debates 

Stands from various campaigns and political groups were present: Palestine groups, antifascist groups and others. Three far-left groups had their own stands, but the vast majority of revolutionary groups in France––3-4 of which have over a thousand activists and 5-6 with over a hundred––are haughtily dismissive of debating with the France Insoumise, and hardly ever even invite FI people to debate at the far-left summer schools.

While national press coverage on the summer school continues to be largely negative, with a huge smear campaign against the FI, portraying us as antisemitic fans of Putin, mesmerized by the charisma of Mélenchon, there were some more objective reports

All in all, it is a vibrant movement with tremendous potential––I have never been at a political event where the average age of the speakers was so young, though it definitely needs far more revolutionary Marxist input, in particular on the nature and processes of French imperialism.

Red Flag: The New A100 Autobahn — A Monument to Car Supremacy

In his weekly column, Nathaniel Flakin looks at Berlin’s antediluvian transport policy.


26/08/2025

As much as we like to think of our city as avant-garde, on Wednesday we will get a massive reminder that Berlin remains a backwater stuck firmly in the 1950s. At 14:00, politicians such as transport minister Patrick Schnieder (CDU) will cut the ribbon on a new inner-city freeway at a ceremony inside Estrel Hotel in Neukölln. Why not gather outside, on their beloved asphalt desert? Because this project is extremely unpopular, and there will be protests starting at 13:00.

The latest segment of the A100, made of 750,000 tons of steel and 650,000 cubic meters of concrete, is the most expensive Autobahn ever built: the 3.2 kilometers cost 720 million euros (2.3 times more than planned!), working out to 225,000 euros per meter. In other words, each meter of highway could have paid for an affordable housing unit. Instead, five perfectly good buildings with 100 apartments were demolished to make room for this tiny strip through Neukölln and Treptow.

When critics denounce a transport policy from the 1950s, that’s not hyperbole: the plan for a ring highway in Berlin literally dates back to the 1930s, with a first section completed in 1958. Now, 67 years later, the 16th segment is going online.

Catastrophe

From the first day, it’s going to be a catastrophe. If 85,000 cars race down this part of the A100 each day, as predicted, they will be spat out at Treptower Park with nowhere to go. The bridge across the Spree, Elsenbrücke, is currently being replaced, with just a single lane open until at least 2028.

Immediately, there will be demands for more Autobahn: A 17th segment of the A100, cutting a path of destruction through Friedrichshain toward Storkower Straße, is in planning. This would be even more absurd, as it would require tearing down a dozen clubs (though I don’t mind the idea of bulldozing pro-Zionist club ://about blank, the building should be preserved and turned into a less racist venue). 

A Friedrichshain freeway would require a double-decker tunnel under the narrow, historical Neue Bahnhofstraße, followed by a bridge over the Ring Center 2 shopping mall. Cost estimates of a billion euros seem hopelessly optimistic, since construction would take decades. Nonetheless, huge swaths of inner-city land are being kept empty for this pipe dream — with one study showing this could provide space for 8,000 apartments.

Induced Demand

Car lobbyists — known in Germany as Verkehrsminister:innen — argue that there is a fixed amount of traffic and it needs to go somewhere. But no serious urban planner believes this is true. Berlin is currently carrying out an unplanned experiment in what scientists call “induced demand.”

Back in March, a freeway bridge on the oldest part of the A100, in Charlottenburg next to the ICC, had to be closed and demolished. A road carrying 230,000 cars per day was suddenly reduced to one lane. Everyone expected a massive traffic jam in surrounding streets. Yet after a few days, all the cars just kind of disappeared, with numerous drivers choosing other means of transportation.

This is why new freeways never clear up traffic jams — roads don’t reduce traffic, but actually induce it. Berlin will offer yet more proof for this well-established scientific fact starting on Wednesday: the endless investments in car infrastructure will just mean more cars and more chaos. 

Hope

It’s embarrassing that our multicultural, rebellious, queer city is governed by a parochial, car-obsessed bumpkin like Kai Wegner, who commutes into the city each day from his sleepy village. It’s even more embarrassing that Berlin might be the only city in the Western world building new inner-city highways in the 21st century.

The CDU’s transport policy is not an abstract question of personal preferences: Wegner’s government has managed to increase the number of traffic fatalities by over 50 percent, up to 56 people last year. That is several dozen lives extinguished in the name of slightly faster travel for the privileged minority who use cars.

Germany’s car industry, largely owned by Nazi billionaires, is destroying the planet and our city in the name of maximizing profits. The CDU is their political wing. Every euro they spend on roads is a euro that’s missing for keeping the trains running.

Berlin’s history offers some hope. Back in the 1970s, the Red Island in Schöneberg was set to be torn down to make room for a six-lane monstrosity. Yet direct action was successful in stopping that Autobahn.

Just about every European metropolis is building bike lanes, expanding public transport, and opening up streets for people, instead of for cars. Maybe this is just a fantasy, but I imagine that with enough protests, we can drag Berlin’s rulers, kicking and screaming, into the 21st century.

Red Flag is a weekly opinion column on Berlin politics that Nathaniel has been writing since 2020. After moving through different homes, it now appears at The Left Berlin.

Standing in Solidarity with Palestinian Liberation and All Marginalized Voices

We need everyone on the streets. This fight is bigger than any one community

Trans Pride Berlin stands unequivocally with Palestinian liberation and in solidarity with all racialized communities fighting for justice and freedom. Our commitment to trans liberation cannot be separated from our commitment to global liberation.

To our LGBTQIA+ siblings, allies, and everyone who believes in justice: we urgently need you with us. When trans people are under attack (through state surveillance, legal restrictions, and violence) it threatens the freedom of all marginalized communities. When any of us are targeted, we all become less safe. Your presence at Trans Pride Berlin is not just solidarity; it’s self-defense for all our communities.

Learning from Our Past, Building Our Future

We acknowledge the harm caused by last year’s national flag policy, which silenced Palestinian voices at a time when solidarity was most needed. We failed our community, particularly those standing with Palestine, and we take full responsibility for that exclusionary decision. This year, we are rebuilding Trans Pride Berlin from the ground up (centering the voices and leadership of those most impacted by systemic oppression).

Trans Pride Berlin is stepping away from white feminism and homonationalism that have dominated our spaces and community for too long. We reject the sanitized politics that prioritize respectability over liberation, that center whiteness while tokenizing racialized voices, and that align with state power instead of challenging it. True trans liberation requires dismantling these systems, not reforming them.

Our Solidarity is International

We stand alongside the International Queer Pride and Community Dyke March, whose powerful statements on Palestinian liberation reflect our shared values. There can be no queer liberation without Palestinian liberation. There can be no trans freedom without racial justice. There can be no true pride while genocide and occupation continue.

Fighting All Forms of Oppression

We stand firmly against antisemitism, Islamophobia, anti-Blackness, and all forms of religious and ethnic hatred. We reject the weaponization of antisemitism accusations to silence legitimate criticism of Israeli state policies and Palestinian solidarity. True opposition to antisemitism means fighting all systems of oppression (including the occupation and genocide of Palestinian people).

We also acknowledge the voices of Jewish queer community members who stand in solidarity against occupation, racism, and antisemitism—their perspectives are an essential part of our movement.

Our anti-colonial politics must include a clear commitment to addressing anti-Blackness, which has long been central to systems of domination across the globe. These systems continue to impact many communities, and Black trans people, especially Black trans women; experience this harm at multiple intersections. Their lives, leadership, and liberation are essential to the broader struggle for justice. We cannot speak of freedom without centering those most affected by these overlapping forms of oppression.

Recognizing Patterns of Repression

We recognize that the same systems used to silence Palestinian voices in Germany are blueprints for silencing all marginalized communities, including queer and trans people. When states criminalize solidarity, ban symbols of resistance, and label liberation movements as threats, they create precedents that will inevitably be used against all of us who dare to resist.

Over the past year, our queer and trans siblings (especially racialized, Muslim, and Jewish community members) have been subjected to extreme police and state violence. We condemn this violence unequivocally. The targeting of our people for their identities, their solidarity, or their resistance exposes the lie that we live in a free and equal society.

This pattern extends to the German government’s proposed registry system for trans people seeking legal gender recognition (a dangerous violation of privacy rights that echoes Germany’s own dark history of registering and tracking marginalized communities). The state also threatens to withdraw the Selbstbestimmungsgesetz and appears ready to follow the UK and US in criminalizing us and stripping away our rights. Any system that creates lists of vulnerable people for state surveillance should alarm us all. We know where such registries lead, and we refuse to accept that trans people should be tracked and monitored by the state under any pretext. 

The fight for Palestinian freedom is inseparable from our fight for trans and queer liberation. State surveillance, whether targeting Palestinians or trans people, serves the same function: control, intimidation, and the systematic erosion of our rights to exist freely.

Our Commitment Moving Forward

This year’s Trans Pride Berlin will be:

  • Anti-colonial: Rejecting all forms of settler colonialism and occupation
  • Anti-racist: Centering the leadership of racialized trans people
  • Trans-feminist: Amplifying trans women’s voices and experiences
  • Pro-sex work: Supporting the full humanity and rights of sex workers
  • Disability justice-oriented: Creating accessible spaces for all bodies and minds

A Call to Action

We call on our community to join us in building a Pride that reflects our true politics (one that doesn’t shy away from global solidarity), that doesn’t sanitize our resistance, and that doesn’t abandon our most vulnerable community members for the comfort of respectability.

Get involved – we need you:

  • Register a bloc for your community (Black, SWANA, Asian, disabled, sex worker, trans fem, and more)
  • Give a speech or performance that centers our politics of liberation
  • Help with logistics – from marshaling to sound tech to accessibility coordination
  • Support organizing through social media, flyering, or community outreach

To our Palestinian trans and queer siblings: your liberation is our liberation. We see you, and we commit to standing with you. Let us unite our fight towards collective justice and freedom for us all.

To our racialized community members: your leadership is not just welcome. It is essential. Help us build something worthy of our collective power.

Trans liberation means liberation for all

Peace is not silence: Part 2

Continuing our conversation with voices from the Hiroshima Palestine Vigil and Nagasaki for Palestine


24/08/2025

A group of 17 people stand in front of the Hiroshima Atomic Bomb memorial holding various signs. There are candles and signs on the ground as well.

In the first part of our conversation, members of the Hiroshima Palestine Vigil reflected on the origins of their nightly gatherings, the reception they’ve received in the city, and their belief that peace must be redefined, not as the absence of war, but as a refusal to look away, wherever violence is taking place.

In this second part, the discussion turns to the deeper historical layers beneath Hiroshima’s “peace” narrative—layers formed not only by the memory of the atomic bombings, but also by Japan’s own history of imperialism and colonialism. Much of this history remains unspoken in official remembrance: Japan’s occupation of Korea, Taiwan, and much of Asia; its use of forced labor and sex slavery from across the region; and the discrimination that continued long after the Asia-Pacific War ended.

In Nagasaki, for example, tens of thousands of Koreans and Chinese were brought under colonial rule and forced to work in arms factories, mines, and shipyards. Many were killed in the atomic bombing, yet their stories remain marginal in national memory. Survivors were denied Japanese citizenship after the war, excluded from equal compensation, and often faced language barriers and bureaucratic hurdles that prevented them from receiving support. This selective remembrance—the centering of some victims while erasing others—shapes how Japan understands its past, and in turn, how it responds to violence in the present, most starkly the genocide in Gaza.

Here, the Vigil’s members—Rebecca Maria Goldschmidt, a Jewish and Filipino anti-Zionist artist and Sailor Kannako, an artist and clothing store clerk from Hiroshima; are joined by Lisa and another member of Nagasaki for Palestine (NFP). Together they draw parallels between the forgotten victims of Nagasaki and the silenced voices in Gaza, reflecting on how histories of both victimhood and perpetration must shape solidarity today.

Do you see similarities between what happened in Hiroshima and Nagasaki and what’s happening in Gaza, not only in the destruction, but also in how the victims are spoken about or potentially even forgotten?

Rebecca: There are many parallels simply in the everyday, desperate reality of the situation of Gaza and the aftermath of the bombs: the mass death, the lack of food, thousands of orphaned children, contamination, cultural and societal collapse, psychological and physical illness and disease, no work, the terrorization of civilian communities and the crushing of morale to force defeat. 

Additionally, even though they were used during wartime, the atomic bombs were part of the US weapons development and testing program and part of the 2,000+ nuclear weapons tests that were done worldwide. The US and Japanese governments also relentlessly studied the hibakusha up until this day. The data they gleaned from the effects of the bomb on the human body (and still do, as the studies continue) provides them with priceless data that continues to inform technological “progress”.

Palestine, as we know, is also a laboratory to develop and improve “battle-ready” weapons on a human population and document their impacts. What connects Hiroshima, Nagasaki and Gaza is not the fact that they are all “locations of bombings”, but the context of their destruction as part of a legacy of weapons technology development and testing, and the ideology of white supremacy that necessitates, designs, and enacts these horrors.

Japan’s own imperialism and settler-colonial endeavors during the war also parallel the occupation of Palestine. Japan has more in common with Israel than it wants to admit—the overt massacre of babies and children, intentional starvation, sexual violence, prisoner torture, etc. I don’t see the Hiroshima-Nagasaki victims as being forgotten at all, I see them as being deified and their stories utilized to justify re-militarization, despite struggling for decades to be seen and heard. I see the millions of victims of Japanese imperialism—1 million Filipinos, 2 million Vietnamese, 10–20 million Chinese, etc.— also being eclipsed by the stories of Hiroshima-Nagasaki victims. Even the Korean and Chinese hibakusha are erased by the Japanese victimhood narrative.

Most people in Japan don’t know the details of their own family’s participation in imperial war crimes, and the government actively advances historical revisionism. This is just one reason why we have seen such a rapid rise in anti-foreigner hatred and open xenophobia during Japan’s recent elections. 

Do you think confronting these erased histories could change how Japan responds to the genocide in Gaza or other struggles for justice today?

Rebecca: Japan has cultivated both a self and public image of pacifism, but with the 80th anniversary of the bombs, a lot of hidden stories are coming to light that are challenging this “nation of peace”.

I came to Japan to better understand the Japanese military occupation of the Philippines that I had heard about from my grandmother. Why was it that no one talked about it even if it was the most violent period in Filipino history? Most Japanese people I talked to had no idea there even was an occupation in the Philippines. That was shocking to me, so when the Gaza genocide started, it made sense that people ignored it. Of course within the anti-war movement there are many Japanese people who are confronting these issues head-on, whether around Okinawa or the sex slavery issue. I have a lot of respect for them as I also take responsibility for the shameful actions in my own zionist family history. I can see the overlap between people who acknowledge Japanese historical atrocity and can draw parallels to what is happening again in Gaza and in other colonial contexts.

Recently in Japan, politicians or famous people have been making revisionist comments, like the Battle of Okinawa “wasn’t that bad”, or that the rape of Nanking never happened. I think in order for any society—Israel, Japan or Germany—the first step toward “atonement” is acknowledging that these crimes are real. In the case of Gaza, however, denial continues, despite this being the most documented genocide in history.

Clearly both “Peace education” and “Holocaust education” systems have failed miserably. Even if people do know what happened, no one was taught what to do when it starts happening again—just look at the ICE kidnappings in the US or the poor treatment of migrant workers in Japanese detention.

In all these contexts, political education around state power, the roots of racism and ethno-supremacy, how “victimhood” is weaponized, necrocapitalism, the list goes on—all of this must be exposed alongside the images we see, otherwise we really are just on a carousel of repeated atrocities with more efficient technology every time. Just “knowing” is not enough for people to take action. There has to also be a sense of political agency and a culture of caring for other people who might not look or act like you, but whose lives are still inherently valuable.

Nagasaki’s victims included many Korean and Chinese forced laborers whose suffering is rarely centered in the city’s memorials. What do you think this says about whose suffering is recognized, and whose is left out, in Japan’s culture of remembrance?

Lisa from NFP: In Nagasaki, it is believed that around 20,000 Koreans and about 650 Chinese laborers were exposed to the atomic bomb. My grandmother recalled that Korean laborers also worked outside the weapons factory she was in, but she had no idea what became of them after the bombing.

At the same time, the hypocenter of the atomic bombing in Nagasaki, Urakami, was located about 3km from the center of Nagasaki city. It was home to many Kakure Kirisitan, hidden Christians, who had preserved their faith in secret through over 250 years of persecution. However, as reconstruction efforts prioritized the city center, many of them were left behind, unable to receive adequate medical care or compensation due to poverty, social discrimination, and isolation. 

In Nagasaki, there are relatively few testimonies from Christians in Urakami who survived the atomic bombing. Testimony collection and oral history projects have often focused on survivors living in the city center or those who were more socially visible, leaving many marginalized voices unheard. I believe this represents a significant difference in the culture of memory between Hiroshima, where the city center was the hypocenter, and Nagasaki.

Anonymous from NFP: Many Chinese and Korean people who were forced to work in Mitsubishi’s arms factories and related facilities in Nagasaki had been kidnapped by the Japanese army during the occupation. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for their families to find out about their situation after the bombing.

There are separate memorials for Chinese and Korean victims in the corners of the Peace Memorial Park, and ceremonies for them are held separately. There is also a separate museum that exhibits not only information about the bombing victims but also the crimes of the Japanese army in the Asia-Pacific region before and during the war.

As a Japanese person who grew up in downtown Tokyo in the 1980s, I did not learn these facts in school. I hope that the standard Japanese education curriculum will teach them, so that we can truly regret what must be regretted, instead of trying to forget.


​​In light of this selective remembrance, how do you think we can build genuine solidarity today? Not just symbolically, but in material or political terms? For example, how should solidarity with Palestinians be demonstrated beyond words or gestures?

Sailor Kannako: To me, solidarity means to empathize with others and to keep acting in ways that complement each other’s shortcomings. To do this, I think it’s necessary to face our own experiences and continue to speak in our own words, with our own feelings, so that emotions such as regret and anger—the triggers of empathy—don’t fade away. I have seen the suffering of the Palestinian people ignored and misunderstood by the international community for many years.

In Japan, when women experience sexual violence, their complaints are often not believed, and it’s often said the victim was at fault. I’ve had a similar experience, and I imagined that Palestinians have felt a similar deep regret and anger. That feeling made it impossible for me not to take action. If the world that once hurt me is now hurting someone else, my wounds will never heal.

People in Gaza are now asking, “What crime have we committed?” I think those who were burned by the atomic bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki must have been filled with that same regret and anger. My experience may be insignificant compared to their pain, but it’s connected. I believe that only by trusting our own feelings and summoning the courage to speak about Gaza in our own words can we build strong bonds of empathy and create lasting, enormous solidarity.

What do you wish people outside Japan understood about Japan’s relationship to Palestine, or about protest in Japan in general?

R: Protest in Japan is usually considered a nuisance, laughable, something done by irrational people. The Japanese public is also generally unaware of the reality of what is happening in Palestine and Gaza. Therefore, the people who are taking the risk to speak up, often against the wishes of their families, workplaces, and communities, are actually pushing up against massive societal and cultural pressure.

No one is a hero, the genocide is still ongoing, and I still think we could do much more from Japan—but the people who have fought bravely for Palestine in Japan against their own set of constraints do work very hard. Everyone tells us about the one guy in Tokyo who stands alone every day on the street yelling about the genocide. Yes, he’s awesome, but the story is misleading because he’s not alone! In Tokyo, there is a strong solidarity movement led by Palestinians, and there is an extensive network throughout Japan, even in very rural areas, that is cross-cultural, intergenerational, and interfaith, trying its best to be intersectional and inclusive.

Every movement has its internal struggles, but we are proud to be part of a truly unique moment in history. The movement for Palestine in Japan did not start on Oct. 7, there have been decades of researchers, artists, students, and activists who have supported and engaged with Palestinians and I feel grateful to be part of this lineage. We are standing with the Palestinian people and the entire world against domination, fascism, and up against a lot of our own ghosts. But we continue to fight in the tradition of many of our ancestors, from the anti-war and anti-nuclear movements, the student, women’s, queer, and environmental movements, and other decolonial peoples’ struggles for dignity, equality, justice and liberation.

Finally, are there any ways people can support your groups?

Follow us on Instagram @hiroshima_palestine_vigil and @nagasakiforpalestine

Buy the zines written by young people in Gaza that we have translated into Japanese:
Gazagazagaza.base.shop

Make a donation to one of the projects we have been supporting:
@GazaSoupKitchen
Challenge Classes
Eman Al-haj Ali GoFundMe

Never stop talking about Palestine!

“People are praying for the IDF in synagogues”

Interview with Wieland Hoban about his new book “Germany’s Jewish Problem”

Hi Wieland. Thanks for talking to us. Could you briefly explain who you are and what you do?

I’m a composer, translator and author, and chair of the ‘Jüdische Stimme’. A book of mine is coming out soon. It’s the paperback version of a book that came out at the end of last year in eBook format, with a different publisher, and a different title. 

The book was originally published by Battleground books and was called “German Apartheid Politics”. The paperback edition is called “Germany’s Jewish Problem: Genocides Past and Present”  and will be published by OR Books. 

Which of the titles do you prefer?

I suppose they have a slightly different angle. The original title is maybe slightly more insider-directed. It touches on a lot of things, but doesn’t spell out exactly what we’re talking about. The word apartheid is about support for the apartheid state of Israel, but there is also apartheid in the unequal treatment of the Palestinians in Germany and their supporters. 

I guess the paperback publisher felt that the title needed to be more obvious, to grab the reader. They’re a bigger publisher, so they think a bit more in this way. 

“Germany’s Jewish Problem” is quite provocative, and is a formulation that could be used by someone with antisemitic intent. But this is a left wing publisher that has also brought out several books by Norman Finkelstein. So it’s clear that it’s about what’s problematic about the way Germany deals with Jews and Jewish history.

What slightly concerned me at first was that the Palestine connection is more hidden, but the subtitle of “Genocides Past and Present” touches on that.  I think it’s a well chosen title. It’s a different flavour, different angle, but I think it works.

It is most definitely more provocative, for better or worse. Could you explain what you think Germany’s Jewish problem is? 

Well, I wrote a whole book about it! But it’s a collection of articles written over more than four years. They all circle around the issue of Palestine-Israel, but also German perceptions of Jews, German perceptions of the whole Palestine issue, memory culture, and the ways this is connected with general racism. Experiences from my activist context also flow into that. 

The book’s perspective is clearly located in Germany. That’s where I live and what I’m mainly commenting on. There are two articles focused purely on Palestine, because they’re about a trip I took there in 2022. But the rest are about German perceptions – the aftermath of the Holocaust and the near annihilation or exile of Germany’s Jewish population.

This created a huge gap in society that people may not immediately think about when they consider this huge mass murder. Of course, there was killing, there was violence, but there’s also this erasure, this very big gap, this lacuna that was left over.

Practically every synagogue you walk past is now a former synagogue. Some of them have been turned into museums, or maybe you can get a tour of them once a week. But Jewishness was erased as a presence that’s not just physical, but forms a part of the country’s culture and discourse.

Even with a government-initiated influx of Jews from post-Soviet countries. It’s been very difficult to establish any sense of normality in relations between Jews and non-Jews in Germany. There’s often a kind of over-compensation, a philosemitic approach to Jews.

The majority of people in Germany have rarely met Jews, unless they’ve been to the US. There are an estimated 225,000 Jews in Germany, so it’s very difficult to have a general sense of Jews as ordinary people who are part of the country’s population. Many people have an image frozen in time of Jews as the victims of the Nazis, who were the parents or grandparents of many Germans.

In some cases, this leads to an over-compensation which means that people want to have a particularly favourable idea of Jews. They make a point of doing what they think is supporting Jews. Including supporting Israel, going on holiday in Israel, or cultivating connections to Israel thinking this somehow revives Jewishness.

But Germany contains at least as many Palestinians as it does Jews. And Palestinian people are an unwanted and disturbing presence in the equation, because the very existence of these Palestinians is an indictment of Israel. Why are they in Germany in the first place? It’s because they’re exiled. They’re refugees or migrants. 

The presence of so many Palestinians here is down to the injustice of the Nakba and then the occupation. This confronts those Germans who support Israel because they want to support Jews. 

There’s a big tangle of things here, connected to a general racism, especially towards Palestinians. This reveals racism in areas where one maybe didn’t think that it was present.

To add  to the entanglement: you’ve talked about the German government in the 90s encouraging Jewish migration from Eastern Europe. But another major case of Jewish migration to Germany is of Israelis. They are largely coming because they don’t want to live in Israel anymore. How do they fit in with the general experience?

That’s an interesting case because there’s something quite contradictory about it. In this idealization of Israel, the “only democracy in the Middle East”, Israel is meant to be a “protective space” for Jews, which is a phrase that makes me think of a nature reserve for Jews.

Or a safari park?

Yes. And you still find Germans talking about how Israel is necessary for the safety of Jews, which, of course, means that they’re not safe here. According to this view, we can only be safe by going to Israel. But Israel is clearly not a safe environment for anyone. 

So people are coming from Israel, this supposed protective space, to Germany, which is supposedly unprotected, what does that say about this idea that Israel is protecting Jews? Because clearly they don’t want to be there anymore.

In some cases, that’s not for explicit political reasons. It’s easy for Israelis with German ancestors to get German citizenship, which then makes them EU citizens, and offers various advantages. And in urban Israel Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, the cost of living has got higher and higher. So in some cases, it’s more of a pragmatic, economically motivated decision than an escape from the political surroundings. 

But of course, there are those of a more Leftist persuasion, including many members of Jüdische Stimme.  They leave because they’re in conflict with that society, or because they see no future. Depending on how much Germans think about it, this could unsettle their narrative. 

Then, when Israelis come to Germany, they realise fairly soon that Germans have this unnatural way of dealing with them, both as Jews and as Israelis. There are things that can be rather troubling, uncomfortable or just downright bizarre.

If  they are in any way politically active or just move in political circles, they find Germans who are generally liberal, or even left of liberal, but who use language about Israel echoing the Israeli right wing and the way they talk about Palestinians. So many Israelis coming to Germany realize quite soon that they’re in a place that doesn’t deal with them in a normal way.

I moved to Berlin 20 years ago from Stuttgart, where there weren’t many Israelis at all. At the time, most Israelis who I met were musicians who said that they’d come to Berlin so they could play music. Some of them had wanted to play with Palestinian musicians in Israel. But few wanted to talk about Palestine, because that was “politics” and they’d left Israel to get away from politics. More recently, Israelis in Germany – at least in my circles – have been engaging more with Palestine. Is this just a subjective thing, or do you have a feeling that this is something which is happening in broader society?

That’s difficult to say. I guess I would have a similar kind of experience to you in terms of which Israelis I deal with. But certainly you still find Israelis in the culture scene who are critical of their government, and don’t want to live in Israel, but they also don’t want to deal with this in their art, or to talk about it all the time. I guess they don’t want to be reduced to that. 

There’s also that expectation by people here that if they meet an Israeli, then immediately this Israeli should give their position on the so-called conflict. Sometimes one does encounter some resistance to and resentment of that.  Among those who define themselves less overtly in political terms, there may be some discomfort, and a wish that they could just exist outside of this.

Let’s go back to Germany’s attitude towards Israelis and Jews. Do you think this is something that’s immutable, or can it change? Is it changing?

I think it can change. It’s difficult to say how long that will take and to what extent the change is occurring now. Because most of society isn’t really aware that there are Israeli or ex Israeli Jews who are opposed to their state at a fundamental level.  Not just against the excesses of the Netanyahu government, but the whole ethnocratic Zionist project. To be fair, it is a relatively small proportion of the Israelis here who go that far in their analysis. Plenty have a more liberal view – the classic two-state mentality. 

The dominant discourse in the media and politics is that to oppose the very nature of the Zionist project is at best an unjustified hatred of Israel and at worst antisemitism. This is put in the context of an irrational world view. It is viewed as  completely different from, say, being against segregation in South Africa or the USA.

It’s common in politics to see religion as somewhat off limits, something that you’re not going to criticize politically. Because religion is based on a whole different belief system. It’s not about the kind of rational analysis we would apply with geopolitics. For most people, there’s a taboo on demonstrating outside a place of worship. 

But the sad fact is that almost all Jewish institutions and organizations worldwide, including Germany, propagate Zionist politics. Some are more explicit and vehement in a very crude nationalist way. Others may be more liberal, subtle, and moderate, but are still ultimately contributing to this. 

It’s hard to find a Jewish museum or an exhibition about some form of Jewish culture that doesn’t have sponsorship from the Israeli embassy, or the Israeli ministry for diaspora affairs. Or that doesn’t serve supposedly Israeli food in the interval (by which they generally mean Palestinian or Arab food like falafel and hummus).

It’s very difficult to find mainstream Jewish spaces that don’t have an implicit pro-Israel bias. Meaning something which excludes anti-Zionist, or even non-Zionist Jews. If you’re someone who goes to synagogues, there are prayers for Israel and its defenders, which means the IDF. So you’re sitting there praying for an army that’s committing genocide. What kind of politics is that?  Is that a situation where we can say that religious institutions are off limits politically?

We know how in Western societies, people talk about mosques where they claim that radical and militant ideas are being preached by imams. But how should one politically or morally assess the fact that people are praying for the IDF in synagogues? 

This is something that has to change in the long term. It is a long project, and not everyone is interested in it. Not all Jews are religious, and the ones who come here tend to be secular Israelis who are not really interested in religion. But I think for anyone who cares about Judaism or Jewishness in a broader sense, this is something that has to change.

We’re doing this interview with theleftberlin.com. Most, but not all, of our readers are neither German nor Jewish. What’s the role of our readers in this discussion?

I think they have the advantage of not having this German view on things. They haven’t grown up with mainstream indoctrination. So it’s often easier for them just to relate to Jews as normal people, and in many cases as migrants. 

There’s a sense of migrant identity that comes in here. You have a mobile identity that makes it more natural for you to connect both personally and politically with other groups of people. This is something that you can see in Berlin. Without wanting to overly generalize, there’s a natural kinship or alliance. 

In the left wing area of society, which is your readership, communities from migrant backgrounds are far better suited to really having normal and fruitful relationships with Jews than Germans are. Because they don’t have this baggage and they’ll often have similar insights as Jews about German society,

Most Jews you’ll meet here are white, Ashkenazi Jews. White Germans will feel able to speak to them about non-white people in the way they would speak to other whites. Some of them will assume that there is natural enmity between Jews and Muslims. They may feel free to make anti-Muslim comments in front of Jews, because they assume that there is agreement. 

While those Jews aren’t on the receiving end of that racism, they will get quite a clear view of it. That will make them natural allies of those migrants who really are on the receiving end of that racism.

Where can people get hold of your new book?

It’s up for pre-order on the OR books website, and copies will start shipping in October. It won’t be available on the wider book market until April, because this is the way OR books do things. They sell directly for a while before handing it over to Amazon and all the other other retailers.

If you want to read the eBook version, that can be ordered and downloaded at most online stores. There’s a brief pause at the moment, and it’s currently only available at the Google Play Store because there’s a change of distributor, but from mid-September, it will be back in all  mainstream online stores.

And you’ll let people know about that from your blog?

Sure.

What are you doing next? You just announced that you’ve got another book coming out. What’s that about?

This book is not about Germany. It’s called “After Zionism: Towards a New Jewish Left”, and will be published by Verso. When I chose that title, I was aware that this is a pretty bold claim to make. So I feel that I’m putting a certain pressure on myself to deliver some kind of vision. 

It starts by taking a look at Zionism, not just in the sense of its political manifestation in Israel. But also in the ways of thinking sometimes even even among Jewish people who don’t really support the project. The critique is sharpened by insights from Palestinian thinkers like Ghassan Kanafani, Steven Salaita and Mohammed El-Kurd. It’s thinking about ways to overcome Zionism, not in the sense of just leaving it behind and moving on, but in defeating it. The same way as we fight against racism and fascism. 

This is connected to various left Jewish traditions and histories, one famous example being Bundism. And uncovering things like the buried Arab-Jewish (Mizrahi) identity. Through fighting against Zionism, and drawing inspiration from various traditions, we can move forward to a left Jewish culture and politics. I’m not suggesting a sort of separatist movement. I’m suggesting something that’s very much part of a wider politics, part of the overall leftist struggle, but drawing on a particular kind of Jewish thought and practice. 

I said before that Jewish institutions need to be overthrown, or at least eroded bit by bit. That’s something that’s also part of this vision. Maybe some would call this utopian, but it’s trying to push through the ruins of Zionism, and to bring together the wealth of progressive and diasporist thinking as an antidote to nationalism, reinforcing solidarity across all groups in society.

I think that’s the place to end this interview. I’m sure we’ll talk again about the new book when it’s nearer to publication. But thanks for talking to us, and good luck in all you’re doing.