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Inciting Hatred and Slinging Insults: Exploring the Legal Apparatus of the BRD

Part I: Volksverhetzung


19/03/2025

I attended a small public event organized by fellow Jews and allies, where we gathered to publicly grieve, reflect on, and learn about the ways we have been harmed by Zionism. A speech was given, names of Palestinians murdered in the ongoing genocide were read as people lay on the ground holding flowers. Suddenly, the police swarmed in on a person holding a sign that said “from the river we do see nothing like equality”. The police wanted to detain them to “check over” the sign. They refused, stating that it did not violate any laws, including the Berlin government’s ban on the statement “from the river to the sea“. Nonetheless, a number of armed officers grabbed them and violently arrested them as they stood peacefully with a sign advocating for justice. 

They were charged with Volksverhetzung – one of the main German hate speech laws which criminalizes inciting hatred, and as there is no formal antisemitism law yet, this often implies inciting so called antisemitic hatred. Although this charge was later dropped in the post a few weeks later, the damage was irreversible. During the police attack on the peaceful sign holder, people stood up to verbally defend the protester, but one person made the mistake of calling a police officer an asshole. This man was violently arrested and charged with Beleidigung – a law that criminalizes insulting individuals or groups, punishable with jail time even. Yes, you read that correctly, insulting someone is a criminal offense in modern Germany. Shortly after, a young Palestinian person was also arrested and charged with Beleidigung for apparently insulting an officer in Arabic. He denies this charge completely. 

Since October of 2023, I noticed these two laws seem to offer frequent justification for many other arbitrary and excessively violent arrests of activists in Germany standing against genocide and oppression in Palestine. In March 2024, an activist was charged with Volksverhetzung for wearing a jacket that said “from the river to the sea”. Under Volksverhetzung, he also had a t-shirt confiscated (it was returned after 5 months with dropped charges). Beleidigung was also the pretext used against Udi Raz as grounds to justify a recent arrest; police laughed at her kippah, so she pointed out that this was antisemitic. This was considered an insult to German Polizei, thus a potential criminal offense. These are just a few of the more publicized cases, but these are by no means the exception. 

Although certain German judges have thrown out some of these charges, the brutality and oppression facing those who are in solidarity with Palestine is only getting more severe. For at least the second time in the span of a year, German police forbade all languages other than English and German at a public demonstration on the grounds that they need to check speech for Volksverhetzung (the first case I know of happened here in April, 2024 where people were forbidden to pray in Arabic during Ramadan at a legal protest camp for the same reason). As if this was only testing the waters, the German state is currently ramping up to possibly alter Volksverhetzung law to expand police power and criminalize speech further. While it wasn’t so surprising that the Beleidigung law could be used for such repressive purposes, it was only through a thorough excavation of the histories of both of these laws that I began to understand how German forces could hijack Volksverhetzung, a law seemingly created to fight discrimination and protect human rights, to become a key tool in state violence against vulnerable populations. Through this understanding, it became clear that German police employ both of these laws with their original intentions: persecution, oppression, and maintenance of domination hierarchies. Let’s take a wild ride down into the wacky worlds of German hate speech and insult law.

The modern German Volksverhetzung law, known as Article §130, is rooted in Prussia’s 1794 law code, the Allgemeines Landrecht, which banned expressions of incitement against the kingdom and against certain religious groups, along with speech that dishonored individuals, thereby also serving as the root of Beleidigung legislation (Goldberg 483). It was then written into Prussian law in 1851 as Article 100 after the 1848-49 uprisings to suppress radical leftists and maintain the power of the monarchy. The law penalized “‘whoever endangered the public peace by inciting [anreizen] hatred or contempt of members of the state against each other’ … with either a fine of twenty to two hundred Thaler or a sentence of one month to two years in prison” (Goldberg 483). The article ended up being used for “arbitrary, unjust, politically motivated prosecutions and the widespread muzzling of critical debate on public matters”(Goldberg 487). Echoing modern times, Prussian Interior Minister Otto Theodor von Manteuffel stated that this law embodied a battle between “defenders of law and order and the protectors of civilization versus terrorism.”  Article 100 was reformed into Article 130 in 1871 to apparently focus the law on punishing actual violence rather than arbitrary Feindlichkeit, or hostility (Goldberg 487). Despite the so-called reform, it seemed as though matters only got worse: “Article 130 was used to repress class, ethnic, national, and political differences. Indeed, that law became so identified with government campaigns against organized labor and Social Democrats that it came to be known as the Klassenkampfparagraph” (Goldberg 481) This is the same Article 130 which governs Volksverhetzung today, albeit with some updated wording. It should be noted that shortly after creating Article 130, the government expanded the law to persecute Catholics (Goldberg 487). Amendment 130a was created to silence Catholic critics of the Protestant state during the Kulturkampf (Recall that Hitler also had some problems with the Catholics).  

Unfortunately, Volksverhetzung only became more repressive as time went on. As Germany tried to “Germanize” the Poles in East Prussia, German police, prosecutors and judges used these hate speech laws to suppress Polish nationalism (Goldberg 489). Scholar Ann Goldberg recalls an outcry in 1906 by the Polish community because “popular songs, poems, picture postcards, and other visual images ranging across Polish life”  had been banned and criminalized under Volksverhetzung (Goldberg 490). This is hauntingly similar to the use of Volksverhetzung today if you replace the word Polish with Palestinian. Palestinian slogans, images, posters, protests, speeches, flags, t-shirts, instagram posts and even the traditional keffiyeh have been criminalized. 

Amir Ali, a Palestinian who who resides in Munich, told Al Jazeera in October of 2023: 

“I was even forbidden to walk inside the city for 24 hours because I was wearing a keffiyeh. There’s a crackdown on all pro-Palestinian voices across Germany, and in my opinion, they don’t want anybody to speak up about the crimes against humanity being committed by the Israeli state.” 

Scholar Ann Goldberg continues on Polish persecution under Volksverhetzung: “What rankled was not only the repression but also the biases of the authorities and the blatant partiality with which justice was meted out, sparing German racist hate speech against Poles, even when it outrightly called for violence” (Goldberg 490). This has a haunting resonance today. Take for example, cases of “from the river to the sea”; as previously established, Palestinians and those in solidarity are attacked and arrested by the police and charged with Volksverhetzung when they even hint at the phrase in regards to liberation of Palestine, but when the line is used favor of Israeli genocide and illegal annexation of Palestine, they are protected (watch this video here). And we must of course remember that the German state itself calls for, justifies, and funds the ongoing genocide in Gaza while using Article 130 to silence those who speak out. 

Although Volksverhetzung law was originally designed to repress minority groups and leftists, in the 1890s, a grassroots Jewish advocacy and defense organization, the Centralverein deutscher Staatsbürger jüdischen Glaubens, attempted to repurpose the law to help protect Jews from anti-Jewish hate speech (Goldberg 483). Their attempts had some scraps of legal success, but ultimately failed, in part due to widespread anti-Jewish racism within the courts (Goldberg 494). Even at the time, some Jews were skeptical of repurposing the law to fight anti-Jewish racism, and others were openly against it (Rohrßen 149). The German left generally agreed with the latter group, and sought to abolish these laws as they saw them as a threat to basic democratic principles (Goldberg 494). 

With the installation of the Third Reich, there was no hope of repurposing the law to fight for protection of vulnerable groups. Furthermore, the Nazis understood the original purpose of the law and attempted to make it even more repressive. While they never officially ratified a new version of the law, a suggested version put forth in 1933 was highly influential in how the law was to be interpreted and later re-written (Rohrßen 125). This suggestion gives us an invaluable glimpse into the fascist reinterpretation of Volksverhetzung, which still has echoes today. A Nazi jurist suggested updating the wording to focus on protecting the “peace of the people” from public discussion, printed matter or other writings which included “inflammatory” words on state affairs (Rohrßen 126). It should be understood that to Nazi Germany, and perhaps the modern German state, “people” are defined as Aryan Germans (just as, for example, America defined “all men created equal” as wealthy landowning white christian males). And we know that Hitler sent legal scholars to the US to study American apartheid and Jim Crow laws (Teter 216-217). Echoing article 130a (recall it had been used to persecute Catholics), it would be considered “especially serious” if civil servants and religious officials committed these crimes. For all “especially serious” violations of this law, deprivation of citizenship would be one possible consequence (Rohrßen 127).

This ideology is still prevalent today, although now under the guise of the war against antisemitism. Felix Klein, Federal anti-antisemitism Commissioner, while making a sweeping condemnation of many Muslims, was in favor of  denial of citizenship for those who inflamed the German state through critique on Israeli war crimes and genocide.  The state of Saxony-Anhalt was the first German state to require a commitment to “Israel’s right to exist” as a prerequisite for citizenship, and indeed the whole country followed suit in June 2024, requiring all applicants for citizenship to commit whole-heartedly to Israel. Invoking its namesake of upholding a [white] Christian Democracy, the CDU proposed to cut “humanitarian protection” for non-German nationals (ie deportation) and a revoking of citizenship for German dual citizens if they receive a prison sentence of one year for “crimes with anti-semitic motives.” As previously established, these “antisemitic” crimes are often prosecuted under Volksverhetzung and most often applied to racialized, peaceful protestors, Jews included (refer to my article for more cases). What’s more, the German Left: Social Democrats, the Greens and Free Democrats – also hope that “antisemitic attitudes or actions”  will rule out naturalization. As antisemitism has been redefined to mean Palestinian people, Muslims, leftist Jews and critics of state violence and genocide, one must wonder how far we have come from Germany’s darkest years. As we keep exploring the history of this law, we must realize with heavy hearts, we have not come very far at all.

The Volksverhetzung law did not change much in the postwar years. Actually, in some ways, it remained exactly the same: “Although Section 130 of the German Criminal Code was subject to significant fluctuations in its interpretation, its wording had remained unchanged since the creation of the Reich Criminal Code and the provision was therefore not affected by the denazification efforts”. (Rohrßen 151)  Once again, some considered abolishing the law. However, after the Holocaust,  “anti-antisemitism and the Jewish cause became synonymous with democracy” (Goldberg 495) and West Germany was having trouble with its image as a post-Nazi democratic state. There were hundreds of widely reported anti-Jewish incidents, including vandalizations of cemeteries, carried out in West Germany between the end of 1959 until February 1960. West Germany needed a quick way to deal with its damaged image as a violent, racist state that failed to denazify. One quick fix was to sweep German dirt under the blue and white flag: to symbolically make amends to the Jewish people through funding the Israeli military. And another method was to attempt, at least on the surface, to protect human rights through repurposing Volksverhetzung. 

Given the precedent of Jewish activists attempting to use Article 130 to fight anti-Jewish racism, Germany nobly decided to repurpose the law to ‘protect’ Jews and other non-white and/or non-Christian populations; in 1960, Germany finally updated the 3rd Reich wording of the Volksverhetzung law. The Jewish community, however, had an important warning, which had been vocalized since the 1890s (Rohrßen 149). Jewish Germans advocated that the law be used to protect all vulnerable groups, not solely Jews. The fear was that isolating Jews as a separate and privileged group would “play into the hands of antisemites” (Goldberg 497). Jewish German leadership recommended the wording “parts of the population (Teile der Bevölkerung)” rather than specifying certain races or nationalities. Although the language remains non-specific, politicians have been racing to change that: alarmingly, new CDU Chancellor Friedrich Merz recently advertised that he will greatly expand police power and control through changing Volksverhetzung law to focus on “anti-semitic perpetrators” by further criminalizing anyone who questions Israel’s “right to exist.” Furthermore, aforementioned Felix Klein, Federal Anti-Antisemitism Commissioner, has also been fighting since at least August 2023 to change the language to be specific. Germany has also singled out the Jews as a “separate and privileged group” by creating the vast array of Antisemitism Commissioners who often employ this law. Recall that no other religious or racialized group has a single commissioner for their “protection,” and only a microscopic 0.33% of the German population is Jewish. The fact that Jews can also be persecuted for “antisemitism” through this Article 130 reveals Germany’s true intentions.

As we further investigate the language used to rewrite the law in 1960 and the way this language was interpreted we might be included to crinkle our noses at the ranking fishiness, a fragrance specific to German law.  The new version of Article 130 added language on penalizing attacks on “human dignity, or Menschenwürde (Goldberg 495).  Although Germany had developed refined definitions of human dignity in relation to modern notions of human rights, jurists chose to define dignity in terms of military doctrine and the old Prussian honor codes it referred to: “The result was some noticeable, and sometimes distressing, limitations on the reach of German hate-speech legislation. As a leading critic of the jurisprudence of § 130 would complain twenty-five years later, the habit of looking to military law, and more generally to old-style ideas of personal honor, rather than to the great ideals of the constitution, survived” (Whitman 1341). We will shortly return to a deep investigation of German honor, but suffice it to say that this old notion of militaristic honor had nothing to do with human rights but rather with maintaining social, racial, and class hierarchies through deadly violence, and was even a fundamental ideology of the Nazi regime. 

Although Article 130 eventually lost the wording on human dignity, “Hate-speech regulation was accordingly not construed to require a general climate that guaranteed minorities an equal sense of dignity; it was understood as something like a more “humane” and philosophical law of insult. This left little room for a law of hate speech that would address itself to the deeper structure of social relations-indeed, no room even for a law of hate speech that would require tavern-keepers to take down signs excluding Turks” (Whitman 1342). There was indeed a 1985 case where “no entry” signs against Turkish people were allowed under Volksverhetzung law. Apparently, if we want to further understand Volksverhetzung, we must explore the laws and philosophies which it orbits around: German insult law and German Honor. 

© Jason Oberman, all rights reserved, 2025

Works Cited:

We will be publishing parts 2 and 3 of this article on theleftberlin.com soon

Water Integrity Network

Clean Water needs Clean governance


The Water Integrity Network (WIN) is the leading global research and advocacy partnership dedicated to clean water governance.

WIN focuses on corruption risk prevention and awareness raising, knowledge sharing and technical assistance for integrity since 2006.

We champion integrity to improve water and sanitation management and service delivery for all, including the poorest and most marginalised.

By addressing corruption in water and sanitation, together we can transform water and sanitation management and service delivery to reach everyone, including the most marginalised.

We work as a global research and advocacy partnership, focusing on:

  • awareness raising for integrity,
  • training and knowledge sharing on clean water governance,
  • technical assistance to water and sanitation organisations, to assess integrity risks and prevent corruption.

​Join and support us to ensure transparency, accountability, participation, and anti-corruption shake up the water and sanitation sectors for good.

In Tuesday, March 5th, the Water Integrity Network and Uhuru Productions, with support from Brot für die Welt and the Rosa Luxemburg Stiftung, invite you to this free film showing on Day Zero in Cape Town: Capturing Water. 

Capturing Water brings fresh insights into water activism and hope from Cape Town, South Africa, and a lesson for water activists everywhere facing major climate-related ravages in their cities.
The film shows the human realities of water scarcity and the decisions and empty promises that lead to day zero scenarios.

Capturing Water introduces different activists as they work tirelessly for their communities’ rights to water and life: a working class activists mobilising against water cut-offs without the dignity of discussion, an activist farmer litigating to stop city plans to cement over an aquifer that provides affordable food to thousands of people, and a suburban activist tirelessly engaging the city to stop sewage flowing into life-giving wetlands.

Afterwards WIN will moderate a discussion on water justice, city politics in times of climate change, and the dynamics behind “day zero” announcements. Seating is limited, please RSVP here to attend. 

Tuesday, March 25, at 5:00 pm.
Kino der Kulturbrauerei, Schönhauser Allee 36, 10435 Berlin

We hope to see you there!

“Courtrooms are where state power plays out in real time”

Interview with an activist from Justice Collective about their new campaign, Racism on Trial


18/03/2025

Thanks for speaking with us. Could you introduce yourself?

I lead Justice Collective’s efforts to bring more people into courtwatching as a form of activism. As a jurist, I’m also responsible for translating legal knowledge into accessible tools for activists and others to engage critically with the justice system. One of my recent projects was coordinating the development of our legal guide for courtwatchers, which you can download on our website, Racism on Trial.

How did you get involved with the group?

I had known about Justice Collective for some time before I started courtwatching about two years ago. Studying law made me realize that the legal system not only defines ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ behavior, but in doing so, it also upholds existing power structures, often ignoring the social impact of these norms on marginalized communities. This led me to question whether the punishment system itself should be challenged. Learning about abolitionist ideas reshaped my understanding of justice, and through courtwatching with Justice Collective, I found a way to expose the injustices embedded in the system.

How did Justice Collective start? What’s the aim of the collective?

Justice Collective began as a grassroots initiative in Berlin to challenge the justice system’s role in perpetuating harm, particularly toward marginalized communities. It grew out of a recognition that the justice system is not neutral—it disproportionately targets Black people, People of Color, migrants, and other vulnerable groups. Our goal is to demystify the courtroom and expose the structural racism that happens there. Courtrooms are spaces where state power is enforced, and we aim to hold them accountable through courtwatching, documentation, and advocacy. We also connect our work to broader abolitionist movements that push for alternatives to policing, punishment, and prisons.

You recently launched a campaign—could you describe it? What are the goals?

We recently launched “Racism on Trial,” an online platform that aims to reclaim space to discuss and resist punitive politics and racist criminalization. The campaign shines a light on the racism that occurs daily in courtrooms, which is often hidden from public view. The platform features a case archive, our findings on how the criminal legal system upholds injustices, and contributions from impacted communities, activists, and advocates on resisting racist criminalization. It also includes resources like a glossary and our legal guide for courtwatchers. Our goal is to equip more people to observe trials, document injustices, and push for accountability, ultimately building a community that challenges the system from within and drives systemic change.

Why is this work important right now?

Courtrooms are where state power plays out in real time. Decisions made in these spaces determine people’s lives, and the system disproportionately targets marginalized communities. Racism in the justice system isn’t just about individual judges, prosecutors or the police—it’s structural. It’s built into how laws are written, enforced, and interpreted. Right now, we’re seeing a rise in punitive politics across Europe, particularly targeting migrants, refugees, and marginalized groups. These policies are enforced in courtrooms, and without public
accountability, they continue unchecked. This work is critical because people rarely know what happens inside courtrooms. Courtwatching brings transparency and accountability to a space that is often hidden from public scrutiny.

Have you had any big successes so far?

One of our biggest successes is building a community of courtwatchers in Berlin. Courtwatching isn’t something many people are familiar with, but we’ve been able to raiseawareness and get people involved. The launch of Racism on Trial is another milestone. It’s a concrete resource that allows people to engage with the justice system in a meaningful way, even if they don’t have a legal background.

Any events coming up in the future?

Yes! We’re inviting people to join our collective courtwatchings where we go to court every other week. We’re also working on a few contributions to share stories from courtwatchers and discuss abolitionist ideas in the context of the justice system.

You can find details on our website or through our Instagram: @justice_collective_berlin.

If people want to get involved, how can they find you?

The best way to get involved is to visit the website racismontrial.org, where you can download our resources and learn more about courtwatching.

You can also follow us on Instagram (@justice_collective_berlin) for updates on events, workshops, and campaigns.

We’re always looking for more people to join the movement, whether you’re interested in courtwatching, sharing stories, working on our archive or organizing events.

Book Review: Perfect Victims by Mohammed El-Kurd 

We should defend all Palestinians, not just the “perfect victims”


17/03/2025

I was somewhat skeptical when I set out to read Mohammed El-Kurd’s latest book, Perfect Victims. I’d been following El-Kurd as a principled voice on Palestine for years, but as he says himself at the outset of the text, so much has already been written on the topics he’d be addressing in the book (see for example, Judith Butler’s writings on “grievability” and Achill Mbembe’s Necropolitics, among plenty others.).

Namely, he asserts that under the Western gaze, Palestinian death is quotidian and negligible, and that Palestinians themselves lack narrative credibility when it comes to their own accounts of loss, grief, and resistance. Yet, they must still appeal to Western audiences, through presenting themselves in the most immaculate light possible, in order to garner enough sympathy to galvanize those residing in the imperial core. 

In many ways, this dynamic exists for all oppressed groups today. Women get put on trial when they publicly accuse a man of assaulting them. Black people murdered by the police must be presented as upstanding citizens who would never hurt a fly in order for their deaths to circulate in the news. God forbid any of them did something that could be interpreted as a provocation; God forbid they tried to resist. 

But El-Kurd’s addition to this discourse still feels refreshing. He cuts through so much of the propaganda that (still) shapes discourse around Palestine, daring to speak with clarity in a way that made it abundantly clear that what he has to say still needs to be said: The moral character of Palestinian victims of Israeli occupation and genocide is irrelevant. 

Not only does he describe the ways that the stories of martyrs were dropped in the western media once it was ascertained that they died resisting their annihilation. He argues that Palestinian must first be defanged to be grievable. But he also unflinchingly goes a step further than most are willing to go, at least publicly, and certainly in Germany.

He asks, “But what about the other [Palestinian victims]? The others who suffocate under this shrinking definition of humanity? … What about those without halos, the angry men who wander the streets with mouths full of venom, the children whose shoulders are burdened by the straps of rifles, the women who choose an explosive path?”

In this context, he references an interview on CNN with Christiane Amanpour who attempts to advocate for a sympathetic stance towards the Palestinians, but is quick to clarify: “And I am not talking about Hamas.” To which El-Kurd contends: “Through her resounding exclusion of Hamas from the category of those entitled to ‘live with rights and dignity,’ Amanpour effectively suggests that the supposedly universal Declaration of Human Rights can be conditions upon one’s political affiliations.” Moreover, “When the [Israeli] sniper finds your bedroom in the scope of his rifle, he… does not care whether the photograph beside your bed is of Nasrallah, Gandhi, or Haifa Wehbe.”

Still, this line of argument isn’t exactly new, even if El-Kurd’s contribution is valuable as applied to the case of Palestine. What is particularly striking about this book, however, is that he argues that the reflex to qualify support for the Palestinian cause with a rejection of antisemitism is itself a logical fallacy. This is something that in Germany feels especially stunning. 

Here he gives the preposterous example of the IDF claiming they found a copy of Mein Kampf in a Palestinian child’s playroom, justifying the confiscation of the home on these grounds and turning it into a military base. El-Kurd points out the trap of trying to argue against such allegations as the intended effect by the Israelis: to distract from Israel’s crimes. 

Instead of falling into antisemitism in any discourse in favor of the Palestinian cause, he poses the question, even if? Even if there was a copy of Mein Kampf in a Palestinian child’s playroom, does it justify occupation, apartheid, and even genocide? Yet, very often, one must argue as if it does. As he writes, “Does your venomous sentiment undermine your status as a victim? Does it rewrite history to absolve the soldier of his sins? Does it justify the crime?” 

But, El-Kurd asks, what if Palestinians hate their occupiers?—Israelis who themselves insist on committing their atrocities in the name of Judaism? Why is it that Palestinians are expected to constantly temper their grief and rage toward them, as they collect their loved ones’ limbs in bags? Does it change the quality of Israeli atrocities against them? Or in other words, must victims be “good” and possess all the “right” views to deserve human rights, to deserve life? 

He writes, “Here is where I stand. […] it is not my fault that [the Israelis] are Jewish. I have zero interest in apologizing for centuries-old tropes created by Europeans, when millions of us confront real, tangible oppression, living behind cement walls, or under siege, or in exile, and living with woes too expansive to summarize. […] Most of all, I am tired of the false equivalence between semantic ‘violence’ [against the occupier] and systemic violence: only one party in this ‘conflict’ is actively engaged in the intentional and systematic eradication of an entire population. I know this […] will be taken out of context, disseminated, and disfigured, but I will never be the perfect victim.” 

As many have done, El-Kurd also uses the response to Ukraine as a foil, citing an article in the New York Times where some expert in psychology argues it’s actually natural and even healthy for the Ukrainians to hate their Russian occupiers and to engage in armed resistance against them. But he doesn’t reduce this identitarianism, where in contrast to the Palestinians, they have the backing of the west simply because they’re white. He emphasizes that who is humanized in Western discourse has a lot more to do with what currently serves the interests of the empire. 

And much of this book is really about carving out the discursive space for Palestinian anger and grief—without qualification and even if western audiences have been conditioned to feel uncomfortable with it. “If we are assessing a certain ideological project (say, capitalism, Zionism, so on) why not judge it based on how it materially manifests rather than on the perceived attitudes of its subjects?,” he asks. “When Zionism’s most recent manifestation is genocide […] What difference does it make how the grieving grieve? Curating the native as ‘respectable’ is a misplaced priority because it redirects critical scrutiny away from the colonizer, which in turn neglects the innate injustice of the colonial project. This misplaced focus insinuates that the oppressed must earn what they are already entitled to: liberty, dignity, and human rights.”

In doing so, El-Kurd also points out that Palestinians aren’t really allowed to exist under the Western gaze as civilians or regular people. When they’re not cast outright as (inhuman) terrorists, they’re expected to speak for all Palestinians, with a palatable political solution for a free Palestine polished and ready anytime they might express their anger or, dare we even say, hatred toward their occupiers. And he makes the point that he is not a Palestinian politician in a tie, let alone the occupying forces themselves who really ought to be the ones answering for the state of things in the occupied territories over the last 76 years. 

Indeed, this book is about humanizing Palestinians by refusing the idea that they must qualify their rage or be perfect victims in order to be worthy of an end to apartheid, occupation, and genocide. 

Knowledge is power: your voting rights in Germany

Breaking down who can, and how, to vote


16/03/2025

Voting is widely considered a civic duty and the bedrock of democracy. From the moment we reached voting age, many are instilled with the sense that it’s the responsibility of a moral citizen to use that ballot. No matter how inconsequential an election may seem. 

However voter apathy, it appears that fatigue, confusion, and a feeling of powerlessness has led to fewer and fewer voters turning up to make their decision. In the face of futility, this is simultaneously unsurprising and disappointing. It’s understandable that this has been happening. Yet as per Dan Tiwari’s op-ed published in the Daily Orange last November, “The right to cast a vote is a privilege that should not be taken for granted.”

One of the most powerful tools in one’s arsenal to empower is education. In my own experience as an expat in Berlin, the complex bureaucracy can culminate in a dispirited surrender to the system. You can end up so befuddled by the criss-cross of information that your own rights and entitlements feel uneasy and opaque. Knowing and truly understanding what you are entitled to can be a gateway towards liberation. In the example of voters’ rights, such understanding can allow for democracy to be confidently engaged with with less fatigue and uncertainty. 

Let’s have a look at your rights as a voter in Germany and the E.U. 

Germany’s Electoral System

Simply put, the German Basic Law (the Grundgesetzt) states that representatives must be elected through general, direct, free, equal and secret elections. This means that all citizens have the right to vote, regardless of their sex or income. Article 20 of the document asserts that Germany is a state of law and democracy. 

Every four years, parties stand in the general elections to the Bundestag, the German federal parliament, which forms the legislative branch of government on federal level alongside the Bundesrat. 

Elections to the Bundestag are performed in what is referred to as “proportionally representative” manner. Citizens cast a vote first for the candidate in their constituency and a second vote for the party’s state list. Essentially, this is to make sure that each group of voters gets a fair share of seats in the government. 

German federal elections can only be voted in by individuals with German citizenship. Citizenship is generally acquired by descent. As of January 2024 the rules of granting citizenship were eased, with the hope it would attract more skilled workers to the country. This allows international residents to apply for citizenship after five years, or in unique circumstances three. This meant that the federal elections in February 2025 saw around 14% of Germany’s adult population – those living in Germany but who are not citizens – were excluded from the vote. 

It is possible for German citizens living abroad to cast their vote, but you must be listed in the voters’ register. A postal ballot scheme is made available for Germans who are temporarily abroad during voting—but make sure to fill it out at least three weeks in advance. 

Due to Germany’s system of compulsory residence registration, every German citizen is automatically registered to vote in federal elections. Before an election, voters typically receive a reminder in advance to present to their designated polling station, alongside a valid photo ID. This means you don’t have to rush out to register—everything you need to vote should be in your possession by the time the voting day rolls around. 

Can non-German residents vote in Germany? 

Non-German citizens who are EU residents are able to vote in local elections and European Parliament Elections. It’s currently not possible for non-EU citizens to vote in any elections held in Germany. 

EU Citizens who are at least 16 (or 18, depending on the election) years old and officially registered as a citizen in Germany are eligible to vote for their local councils or for European Parliament elections. 

If you are registered at least 42 days before an election date, you are automatically registered on the voters’ register of your municipality of residence, and should receive a notification of the upcoming ballot at latest by the 21st day prior to the election. 

EU citizens entitled to vote in Germany can make a choice as to whether they vote in Germany or their home country. If it is their first time voting in a European Parliament election in Germany, they must apply to be in their electoral roll via this application form. They will then be automatically registered for future elections. 

European Parliament Elections

The European Parliament Elections take place every five years, the most recent of which took place in June 2024, and the next scheduled for 2029. The parliament consists of directly-voted members by the people of the EU to represent their interests. The EU Parliament functions as a legislative body for the EU, and exists to promote equality for all. 

Berlin Local (Municipal) Elections

All Berlin residents over the age of 16 who hold an EU citizenship, have been registered as a resident in Berlin for three months, and have registered to vote six weeks prior to the election are eligible.

As with German residents, once registered as a resident, you are automatically included in the electoral roll and will receive a voting notification by mail a couple of weeks prior to the election

Voters must bring their voting notification and a valid photo ID to present at the polling station

Berlin is divided into twelve districts, with each district having its own local government and its own district council. Berlin residents periodically vote for council members during the local elections. These districts are administrative units that primarily take responsibility for local borough issues, such as urban planning, youth services, green spaces, culture, and traffic. While the local districts do not have the same autonomy as the Berlin Senate, they operate to address day-to-day issues. As such play a really important role in community lifestyles.

Conclusion 

No matter where you are, it’s important to know your rights, so you can exercise your voice and help make changes. It’s also important to ensure that the people around you know their civic duty and feel confident in stepping into that role. As an expat, while you may not feel like you belong entirely to a city or country, the act of engaging in improving the area can help you to tether yourself to its development. 

The phrase “every vote counts” may sound contrived, but it is a fundamental truth. Showing up to cast a vote—even if the result is not what you wanted—is a key part of the journey towards improving lives and society at large. 

To take a more granular look at voting rights in Germany and the EU, you can find further information on the European Union website and Deutscher Bundestag. 

Each district of Berlin has its own website which expands on their governance and current initiatives, and include the profile of their elected officials: Mitte, Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg, Pankow, Charlottenburg-Wilmersdorf, Spandau, Steglitz-Zehlendorf, Tempelhof-Schöneberg, Neukölln, Treptow-Köpenick, Marzahn-Hellersdorf, Lichtenburg, and Reickendorf.