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Berlin and the cultural cost of control

A city more interested in order than openness


10/11/2025

Back in 2017, when Orania.Berlin, the luxury hotel at the western end of Oranienstraße, first opened its doors, it’s likely more than one lukewarm bottle of Sterni had “Berlin is over” muttered into it from across the street.

Lavished with handwoven Luribaff carpets and Japanese silk curtains, “Berlin’s coolest grand hotel” was a new kind of Kreuzberg arrival, one that didn’t just move in but repackaged the fading smell of anarchy around it as ‘boutique ambience’. Sitting on a low-slung designer couch behind a floor-to-ceiling glass façade, guests could look out onto a scuffed up Oranienplatz and feel, for a moment, like they were part of the furniture. Like they were part of the myth of a city built on art and friction. Like being there was a creative act in itself.

The promise of inclusion

But while guests behind the glass cosplayed the city’s creative identity, and that familiar three-word prophecy floated through streets being steadily smoothed out for consumption, artists arriving in Berlin were cautiously optimistic about a different kind of shift. Beyond the warnings of paperwork, waiting rooms, and Kafka-esque loops of registration (all the things Germany truly excels at), new spaces and collectives were taking shape, and the cultural scene was finally trying, or at least pretending, to catch up with the diversity already shaping the city.

In the same year, the Berlin Senate had launched Diversity Arts Culture, a project aimed at addressing structural racism and underrepresentation across the city’s cultural sector. And at Weißensee Art Academy, the *foundationClass — founded in 2016 for artists affected by racism, exile, or displacement — became one of the clearest expressions of that moment: a counterspace where creative practices could continue despite the barriers of bureaucracy and belonging.

Room to make it happen

What allowed these movements to take root wasn’t just Germany’s supposed awakening to the language of inclusion, but the material conditions that made it possible: space. Berlin’s reputation as a cultural haven rested on an older foundation of subsidised studios and public grants that kept artists secure in the city. Berufsverband Bildender Künstler (BBK), is one such association whose network of subsidised studios quietly made it possible for its tenants to keep working as the city grew less affordable.

For decades, the BBK’s studio programme has been one of Berlin’s quiet pillars of cultural life. The association rents buildings across the city and offers them to artists at affordable, income-adjusted rates. In 2021, the system was restructured into two funding tiers — 4.09 and 6.50 euros per square metre, bruttowarm (heating included) — with the BBK covering the difference between those set rates and the market price. The model allows hundreds of artists to maintain stable studios in a city where commercial rent has become unmanageable, effectively bridging the gap between public funding and private property.

Atelierhaus Fichtestr. 3

On Fichtestraße, six artists — Salwa Aleryani, Anaïs Héraud-Louisadat, Verónica Lehner, Isabell Spengler, Antje Taubert, and Ladislav Zajac — share one of these BBK studio houses. The space holds a mix of practices: installation, moving image, participatory art, and art therapy. It’s less a collection of rooms than a small ecosystem, where studio work spills into workshops, neighbourhood collaborations, and classrooms. 

For Salwa Aleryani, who arrived in Berlin a decade ago, the studio represents what once drew so many artists to the city, the chance to sustain a practice without constant precarity. “On a daily basis, it gives me a framework to structure my work around” she says. “If I don’t have that studio, I would lose not just a physical space to build my work, but also the structure for preparing classes, organizing my thoughts, bringing people in. That’s not something you can really do from your kitchen table.”

Across the corridor, others describe it the same way: a working space, but also as a small community that still carries something of Kreuzberg’s collective spirit, even as the pressures of rent and redevelopment close in. “Our studio house is a diverse community of artists from different backgrounds, generations, and disciplines,” says Héraud-Louisadat, who has shared the building since 2018. “Because of the long-standing connections and shared energy, this place is unique, not anonymous like so many others. It’s what people mean when they talk about Berlin’s creative synergy.”

The cuts

Then in May, the artists at Fichtestraße received an email. As part of Berlin’s much-publicised cultural budget cuts — which stripped €130 million from the 2025 culture budget, around 12 to 13 percent — their studio was among those at risk of losing support by year’s end.

The BBK called the move “a severe threat to the atelier program, with no studio truly secure”. Without these workspaces, the entire system begins to unravel. Artists already working at the edge can’t simply relocate; the private market offers no affordable alternatives, and a studio isn’t something you can easily replace.

“I depend financially on my studio,” says Héraud-Louisadat. “Losing it would mean I might not be able to continue my profession at all. It wouldn’t just affect me, but also my family, my collaborators, and the people I teach or work with through art education and therapy.”

Verónica Lehner feels the same uncertainty. Her practice relies on large, time-intensive installations and paintings — the kind of work impossible to make in an apartment shared with family. “Without this studio,” she says, “I simply couldn’t continue.”

Artists from endangered studios across Berlin haven’t been waiting quietly. They’ve written open letters, met with local representatives, and joined demonstrations. For months, they’ve petitioned the Senate to reconsider, coordinating with the BBK to push for temporary extensions and public visibility.

According to BBK estimates, Fichtestraße is one of seven subsidised studio houses set to lose support in 2025. Thirty more are expected to follow in 2026, and another fifty-eight by 2027 — nearly a hundred buildings in total. Most are tied to leases the Senate has chosen not to renew, and once those expire, the spaces don’t come back; they’re converted, privatised, or simply folded into the commercial market.

The city is effectively cutting away the very infrastructure that drew visitors, residents, and artists alike, and the fallout is anything but equal.

Who gets left behind?

Aside from the studios at risk, when it comes to funding cuts for spaces, institutions with PR departments, long-standing ‘prestige’, or the right philanthropic ties are better equipped to weather the storm and grab all the headlines. Meanwhile, initiatives that aren’t — like *foundationClass — have already disappeared.

The Senate has scrapped Diversity Arts Culture and drastically reduced support for Berlin Mondiale, which connected underrepresented communities with the city’s cultural institutions. Oyoun, a cultural space in Neukölln committed to decolonial, queer, feminist and migrant perspectives, lost public funding after refusing to disinvite a Jewish Voice for a Just Peace in the Middle East speaker (a decision that exposed how conditional Berlin’s support for diversity really is). Sinema Transtopia, known for its intersectional programming and social discourse, also had 100% of its support pulled. 

The list goes on and the pattern is impossible to ignore. The same communities once held up as proof of “Berlin’s cultural diversity” are now the first to lose support. “You start to see that those who have much bigger cuts,” Salwa points out, “it’s connected to institutions that are more grassroots, are more connected to certain communities, and have a certain kind of programming. It’s affecting people, but not equally and there’s a reason for that. It’s not coincidental.”

What’s happening isn’t just a question of budgets or priorities, but of power and of who gets to define culture in the first place. Funding cuts are being used not just to save money, but to silence institutions that challenge Germany’s self-image, whether through decolonial, queer, or pro-Palestinian perspectives. And while artists and cultural workers fight to hold onto their voices, the state is quietly investing in more police, more surveillance, and more rules about who can gather and what can be said.

Policing the void

In 2023, just around the corner from Orania.Berlin, on the edge of Kottbusser Tor — a neighbourhood with a largely migrant community — a new police station opened its doors. Officially framed as a response to “safety concerns” in the area, the move marked a shift in tone, with politicians speaking of danger zones and disorder. Fast forward to today and knife-crime posters line Görlitzer Park and Kotti, casting a sense of threat over public space. The message is clear: be afraid.

Because while artists lose studios and community spaces disappear under the guise of austerity, Berlin’s police budget has magically climbed to €2.9 billion. The city that once prided itself on artistic freedom now dismantles cultural infrastructure with one hand while expanding its machinery of surveillance and control with the other.

And the fearmongering doesn’t stop at knife posters. Over the past two years, Berlin has become a testing ground for the criminalisation of protest — just look at every Palestine demo. They’re often banned pre-emptively, and people are prosecuted for flags, slogans, or even gestures. When demonstrations do go ahead, it’s always the police who escalate violence first, using disproportionate force and provoking confrontation before pointing to the resulting chaos as justification.

At the same time, there must have been hundreds of thousands of euros poured into court cases against pro-Palestine activists caught in that chaos. The cases are so weak they’re routinely thrown out, yet they still drain public funds and attention.

The cycle is self-perpetuating: police violence produces unrest, the media report the police are the victims of disorder (yes, really), and authorities cite that disorder to spend more on the very system causing it. Meanwhile, those protesting genocide are criminalised and art reflecting an increasingly authoritarian reality quietly disappears ‘from the walls’.

Resistance, solidarity, and the future

Even as “austerity” tightens its grip, cultural workers across Berlin are refusing to accept silence as the new normal. On July 8th, dozens of social and youth organisations shut their doors in protest. ‘Tag der geschlossenen Tür’ was a citywide action warning that the coming cuts wouldn’t just mute culture, but dismantle youth development, cultural education, inclusion, and anti-discrimination work.

As well as the march, a petition to preserve the BBK’s subsidised studios continues to gain support (sign it here), while collectives organise open letters and open studios. “I think resistance looks like collectivity,” Salwa says. “Trying to come together and mobilise, have more presence in the public to show how this affects not just us on a personal level, but entire communities, and the wider city too.”

Artists are using what platforms they have to make visible what’s being quietly erased and to remind those in power that what’s disappearing isn’t abstract. Some are listening. “There are a couple of political representatives who are really supportive,” she adds. “They’re sharing information, trying to mobilise, mostly from the opposition. At least when it comes to these kinds of cuts, they’re really trying to push back for now.”

And sometimes, persistence pays off, if only temporarily. After months of uncertainty, the artists at Fichtestraße received new contracts with a one-year extension. On paper, the building’s lease runs until 2027, though the Senate says funding may only last until 2026. It’s a reprieve, not a resolution, but for now it buys a bit more time.

So what’s left to lose?

Back in 2017, when people muttered “Berlin is over” into lukewarm bottles of Sterni, it was mostly a cliché — shorthand for tourists, tech money, or another wave of gentrification. None of it seemed good, but now that prophecy sounds different. What’s fading isn’t only affordable studios or community spaces, but also the fragile progress made toward inclusion and access, not just in the arts but across Berlin’s broader cultural, ethnic, and public life.

The cuts follow a familiar pattern; one where spaces led by migrants, queer artists, and people of colour are the first to lose support, and where the language of diversity that once signalled progress now rings hollow, masking the same exclusions it once claimed to address. Behind the talk of austerity sits a quieter kind of gatekeeping, deciding which stories get told and which are made to disappear. 

Across the city, dozens of collectives and cultural spaces are trying to hold things together: places like Oyoun, Sinema Transtopia, and Berlin Mondiale, continue to make space for dialogue, collaboration, and care despite shrinking resources. Showing up still matters — at protests, in petitions, and in the rooms where culture is made and shared — because what remains of Berlin depends on people keeping those spaces alive before the only version left is the one seen from the top of the Amazon Tower.

Artificial intelligence: A tool for capital or liberation?

Can AI serve the working class and how can we gain collective control over digital production?


Reproducing class domination through more advanced means

As Karl Marx noted in many of his works, every technological leap within the capitalist system does not lead to human liberation but to the reproduction of class domination by more advanced means. Therefore, current technological developments are not neutral, they take shape within prevailing relations of production. Artificial intelligence, despite its enormous potential to serve humanity, has become a tool used by the bourgeoisie to strengthen its control over labor, dominate resources, and reshape mass consciousness in ways that serve the capitalist system. 

Just as machines were used during the industrial revolution to intensify exploitation instead of reducing working hours, artificial intelligence today is employed in automation to lower production costs and reduce the need for human labor in most cases, imposing more precarious and less secure working conditions. 

This also deepens alienation, as manual and intellectual workers are turned into human tools in their workplaces and replaced by algorithms, which leads to increased unemployment or forces them to seek alternative work. At the same time, new production relations are imposed in which the bourgeoisie tightens its grip on the means of digital production. In this context, artificial intelligence becomes a tool for reproducing exploitation in its most advanced form.

A tool for control, repression, and mass consciousness washing

Capitalist control over artificial intelligence no longer stops at reproducing relations of production, it has also become a direct tool of control and political repression. Today, artificial intelligence is used in mass surveillance systems, facial recognition, analysis of political behavior of individuals and groups, and more. This allows repressive regimes, even in so-called democratic countries, to preemptively intervene to weaken or thwart any potential radical leftist resistance that crosses the pre-established “red lines,” i.e., poses a serious threat to the structure of the capitalist system.

Digital surveillance today goes beyond merely deleting content or blocking accounts. It takes the form of “voluntary self-censorship,” where individuals begin adjusting their speech and opinions out of fear of censorship or digital penalties. This reduces the ability of leftist and progressive organizations to mobilize the masses and helps turn the internet, to a large extent, into a space governed by capitalist market logic and state dominance.

In addition to its role in reshaping labor relations and enhancing control and repression, most applications of artificial intelligence, just like media in all its past and present forms, are used as tools for manipulating mass awareness and instilling capitalist values. This is done through algorithms that control information flow, steer public discourse, and attempt to impose a singular cultural reality that reinforces market dominance and individual consumption as natural and inevitable values.

Today, artificial intelligence is among the most effective tools for entrenching this ideological hegemony. Algorithms are configured to guide the masses toward accepting capitalism as the best, even eternal, system. This is done gradually, softly, and imperceptibly, giving users a false impression that the system is entirely neutral. 

Over time, the public may be transformed into a “docile herd easily led,” weakening class consciousness by flattening progressive and critical thought and reducing political discourse to trivial side issues, instead of analyzing the existing political, economic, and social structure based on exploitation.

The leftist alternative: confronting digital slavery and liberating technology

Redirecting artificial intelligence to serve the people rather than capital requires developing open-source, transparent systems with neutral orientations, democratically managed and subject to community oversight, as a currently feasible solution. It also requires passing international legislation to regulate its operation to ensure it serves society as a whole, until progressive, leftist alternatives based on community ownership are proposed as a necessary solution, far from the monopoly of major corporations.

We must struggle to ensure artificial intelligence is used to reduce working hours without lowering wages, achieve fair distribution of resources, and promote justice and equality, etc., enabling humanity to benefit from technology in its broadest forms and to build a better world.

The struggle over artificial intelligence cannot be separated from the broader class struggle. Therefore, the fight against the exploitation of artificial intelligence and technology in general is a vital part of the broader struggle for human liberation from capitalist exploitation. 

Liberating technology from the grip of capital and redirecting it to serve the masses and achieve social justice and a socialist alternative is not merely a choice, it is a historical necessity imposed by the growing contradictions within the capitalist system itself. 

This must be one of the main tasks of leftist, progressive, and rights-based forces around the world; otherwise, we will face a new era of digital slavery, if we are not already living in it, where capitalist elites control every aspect of life, from labor to thought, consciousness, and daily existence.

Building digital leftist internationals

Humanity today faces unprecedented global control by major tech corporations, capitalist states, and authoritarian regimes over artificial intelligence and technology in general. This makes the formation of global leftist alliances and internationals an inevitable necessity to confront this hegemony.

These alliances must go beyond ideological differences among various leftist and progressive organizations, aiming to unify efforts broadly, and especially in this field, to develop alternative open-source or leftist technologies that serve social justice and equality. 

This confrontation requires adopting effective policies and programs, such as securing independent funding through cooperative financing and popular support campaigns, away from conditional funding from capitalist governments. It is also necessary to struggle for the imposition of progressive tax policies on major tech corporations and redirecting part of their massive profits to support social and cooperative projects.

The expected capitalist reaction cannot be ignored, dominant corporations and states will impose legal and technical obstacles to thwart any progressive leftist technological alternatives, even suppressing and sabotaging them in various ways. Therefore, it is crucial to adopt proactive strategies to develop systems resistant to technological repression that ensure digital independence and the ability to compete technologically.

Attracting youth, developing skills, and eliminating digital illiteracy within leftist organizations

Artificial intelligence and digital technology represent a new and important arena of class struggle. Capitalism continues to invest intensively and constantly in digital tools to strengthen its hegemony, while most leftist organizations suffer from a clear digital gap. Digital presence is no longer limited to managing social media pages or publishing statements online, it has become a strategic necessity requiring the development of independent technological infrastructure, owned and managed by leftist and progressive organizations. To ensure the survival of the left in this era, it is essential to focus on eliminating digital illiteracy through training programs that enable leaders and members to understand and effectively use digital tools, and even contribute to their development.

Youth play a pivotal role in this transformation, as they have the ability to quickly absorb technological developments and apply them effectively in leftist activism. Through their skills in areas such as social networks, YouTube, artificial intelligence, digital security, data analysis, and more, they can not only bridge the digital gap within leftist organizations but also lead them toward building independent digital policies. This also requires attracting technical talents to leftist thought and creating flexible organizational environments that allow engineers, programmers, and all those interested in technology to work on independent progressive projects away from monopolistic corporations.

These efforts should include the establishment of digital schools and open local and global workshops that offer advanced technical training in areas such as optimal and effective use of technology, digital security, data analysis, collaborative software development, and more. Leftist influence should also be strengthened across professional networks and technical platforms to expand the reach of progressive ideas within technological circles and draw them into the ranks of the left.

The position on current applications of artificial intelligence

The important question here is: can leftist forces benefit from current artificial intelligence, despite it being a capitalist, non-neutral product?

The answer is not a simple yes or no. Until progressive leftist alternatives are developed, leftist and progressive movements can carefully and critically utilize existing artificial intelligence to expand their influence in confronting capitalist hegemony and authoritarian systems. This technology can be employed to analyze political and social data, understand patterns of economic change, and identify the most pressing issues for working-class communities. 

Artificial intelligence can also be used to study public opinion trends, which could help leftist movements develop more scientific, realistic, and effective programs and policies, based not only on what is desired but on what is possible, grounded in real needs that lead toward various leftist theories, not the other way around. It can enhance their capacity for political and mass influence.

Additionally, artificial intelligence can be an effective tool for exposing the misinformation practiced by capitalist institutions and authoritarian regimes, analyzing dominant media discourse to dismantle manipulation and ideological control, and countering it with a progressive leftist narrative that is advanced and oppositional, contributing to raising mass awareness.

These tools can enhance leftist media that reflects the interests of working classes and marginalized groups, making it possible to reach broader audiences and present anti-capitalist and anti-authoritarian content in more impactful and cost-effective ways.

Organizationally, artificial intelligence can improve coordination and interaction mechanisms within leftist organizations by analyzing organizational dynamics, identifying strengths and weaknesses, and enhancing cohesion among members and groups.

It also aids in information management within organizations, assessing the effectiveness of current policies, identifying successful working patterns, and thus improving collective organizational performance, reducing bureaucracy, and fostering smoother, more effective internal communication.

However, it is crucial to approach this technology with caution and critical awareness, ensuring it remains a supportive tool rather than a dominant force. It must be used to reinforce political and mass organization and field struggle, without becoming a substitute for them. Strict human oversight and auditing must always be applied. It is essential to avoid falling into the trap of over-reliance on technology or allowing it to reshape the priorities of struggle according to its technical logic rooted in a capitalist environment.

Conclusion

Liberating artificial intelligence and digital technology from the grip of capital and transforming them into tools that serve the people is an urgent struggle in the face of a capitalist system that harnesses these technologies to reinforce class domination and deepen social inequalities. The struggle to liberate technology is inseparable from the class struggle against capitalism, and true liberation cannot be achieved without collective control over the tools of digital production. Ultimately, the issue is not just about technology, it is about the struggle over the future of human society itself.

Some thoughts on the New York mayoral election results

We should welcome Mamdani’s victory. But implementing his promises will require pressure from below


09/11/2025

New York has elected its first socialist mayor in decades. This opens the field of possibility for the left on both sides of the Atlantic but requires serious analytical attention to context and potential difficulties.

1) Although Zohran Mamdani is not a traditional “Democrat.” One peculiarity of the American political system is that it allows smaller parties and even independent candidates to run on existing party lists. Mamdani, a member of the Democratic Socialists of America, did just that: he won the Democratic Party primaries, managing—against the will of the party apparatus—to become the Democratic candidate for mayor of New York.

This is no small victory. It proves that left-wing programs based on the classic precepts of social democracy still have a strong base of popular support.

2) The Mamdani campaign mobilized thousands of volunteers. There were no million-dollar donations, nor was the campaign built in the upper-middle-class centers of New York.

Already a member of the municipal assembly for Queens, Mamdani managed to mobilize and be present in the city’s poorest and most excluded areas. Notably, Brooklyn and Queens saw the highest turnout, including neighborhoods that only a year ago had voted strongly for Donald Trump.

This is no accident. The campaign’s message was clear: tax great wealth; improve and make the city’s bus network free; freeze rents for apartments under the “stabilised income” act (a measure covering more than two million residents); create a network of public supermarkets providing essential goods at controlled prices; and establish public, free nurseries for all children.

This was a campaign that spoke about essentials—expanding rights, fighting inflationary pressure, and restoring access to the basics: bread, housing, education, and mobility. The campaign’s spirit of mass participation and its enormous grassroots energy were not mere details or tactics; they tapped into a deep desire for participatory, democratic politics. It gave people a chance to act collectively and believe again in the possibility of changing the world.

Mamdani’s campaign invited people to fight and organize together in a way the ruling Democratic Party cannot—and will not—do. Yet as the weight of the militarized federal government bears down on a city built by immigrant labor, far more organization and strategy will be required.

3) Organizational strength is no minor issue. New York has suffered from low, declining federal funding since the financial crisis of the 1970s—a situation that has never been reversed. The city is financed partly through municipal taxation, partly through the state budget (New York City is distinct from New York State, whose capital is Albany), and partly through the market, issuing public debt bonds.

One of the biggest challenges for Mamdani’s program is how to manage a deeply indebted city while implementing social measures. Even within a social-democratic framework, it will be necessary to control capital flight, secure investment, and negotiate with Albany—all under a proto-fascist federal government.

The difficulties will be immense. Only organized class struggle can sustain such an ambitious program in this context. This will also be the measure by which we assess its successes and failures.

4) Many politicians and commentators, including progressives, remain trapped in a mental model that places voters on a linear left-to-right spectrum. According to this model, if voters move right—as they appeared to do in 2024—then parties and programmes must also shift right.

In the United States, Democrats have long embraced this logic: to defeat Trump, they argue, it’s too risky to try anything new. Mamdani’s victory proves that this model doesn’t work.

When a candidate and program genuinely engage people in political debate, voters don’t flock to the “center”—whatever that means. They aren’t looking for watered-down, “common-sense” alternatives to progressive politics. New Yorkers were tired of a status quo that no longer works and were searching for something genuinely new.

5) The Palestinian question was also crucial in this campaign. Both the DSA and Mamdani himself have organized pro-Palestine protests since 7 October. During the campaign, Mamdani resisted pressure to compromise and continued to describe the Israeli government’s actions as genocide. He still won roughly a third of the Jewish vote.

6) Every victory of the left also brings new challenges: the greater the responsibility, the higher the risks, and the more powerful the enemies. Much will depend on whether this electoral mobilization can grow roots, expand, and organize. Mamdani’s victory offers, at the very least, a renewed opportunity to fight together—and to rethink and rebuild the left’s base in the United States.

A real Left party must stand with BDS and PACBI

Die Linke and Zionism


On Saturday, November 15, the Berlin regional conference of Die Linke will host a decisive vote on whether the party will support two crucial international movements: BDS (Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions), and PACBI (Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel).

As the name suggests, the BDS movement is a Palestinian-led nonviolent boycott and divestment campaign that seeks to apply international pressure on Israel to comply with “Israel’s obligations under international law,” including withdrawal from occupied territories, equality for Arab-Palestinian citizens, and the right of Palestinian refugees to return.

The PACBI is a part of this broader BDS movement, launched in 2004 by Palestinian academics and intellectuals. PACBI specifically calls for a boycott of Israeli academic and cultural institutions––not individuals––which it holds complicit in perpetuating Israeli occupation and oppression of Palestinians, in order to isolate Israel internationally and pressure it to change its policies.

Support for BDS and PACBI would mark a historic turning point for Die Linke, long plagued by internal contradictions and a legacy of alliances with Zionist figures, going as low as defending “Israel‘s right to exist” via the German infamous “Staatsräson” (“reason of state”). This moment could help redefine the party’s identity as a credible, anti-imperialist force committed to Palestinian self-determination and international solidarity—a much-needed shift that could reverberate across Germany’s broader social and political landscape.

The Party’s Fading Revolutionary Roots

Founded as a merger of the East German socialist tradition and the Western anti-capitalist left, Die Linke once represented a revolutionary alternative to establishment politics. Over time, however, it has undergone a profound ideological transformation. Once an anti-imperialist force against oppression worldwide, the party’s politics have aligned ever more with reformist, social-democratic tendencies—most troublingly with a pronounced pro-Zionist current that undermines its foundational principles.

This oxymoron manifests through the “Anti-Deutsch” faction: steadfast antinationalists who are progressive on most issues, except for their deep loyalty to the ethnonationalist state of Israel—a clear cherry-picking of their principles. Being a “Zionist leftist” is as self-contradictory as claiming to be a “leftist racist.”

This contradiction finds expression in old, key figures such as Bodo Ramelow and Dietmar Bartsch, who routinely affirm “Israel’s right to exist” and condemn Palestinian resistance in conciliatory or dismissive terms. Petra Pau, likewise, has adopted a western Eurocentric narrative that labels Palestinian resistance as terrorism—a glaring betrayal of the socialist principles once professed in her upbringing in the GDR. Perhaps most emblematic is Klaus Lederer, whose aggressive defense of Israeli policies, reliance on whataboutism, pinkwashing rhetoric, and repetition of historical revisionism about Palestine have deeply harmed the party’s credibility.

The influential Silberlocken (“silver curls,” suggestive of their advanced age)—Ramelow, Bartsch, and Gregor Gysi—have consistently defended Israel’s position while discrediting Palestinian voices. Ramelow’s proud display of the Israeli flag after October 7, 2023, and Bartsch’s circulation of fabricated atrocity stories illustrate an ingrained pro-Zionist bias. Gysi’s racial insensitivity (including his infamous use of the N-word on live television) and his support for cross-party alliances—from the hard-right CDU to the also militaristic neoliberal Greens—demonstrate a willingness to sideline anti-imperialist positions for opportunistic coalition politics.

For a politician who often invokes Rosa Luxemburg, such posturing represents a complete betrayal of the revolutionary legacy he claims to embody.

The situation has deteriorated to the point that figures with openly reactionary backgrounds are tolerated within a supposedly leftist party. Andreas Büttner, formerly of the CDU and FDP (of all parties), exemplifies the fanatic Zionist wing, publicly backing Israeli territorial claims and military aid—a stance so damaging that members have demanded his expulsion. Similarly, a Leipzig member once known for wearing Israel Defense Forces attire reportedly harassed and intimidated pro-Palestine activists within the party. These aberrations expose Die Linke’s alarming tolerance for elements that clash with the most basic principles of socialist and anti-imperialist solidarity.

Whether they are committed Zionists or opportunists afraid of the misused “antisemite” label, such figures reflect a broader institutional shift: an alignment with German state and NATO narratives masquerading as progressive politics. The fear of losing coalition opportunities with neoliberal and militaristic counterparts—the SPD and the Greens—has often been invoked to justify censorship, disciplinary measures, and the silencing of pro-Palestinian voices.

The Rise of Pro-Zionist Factionalism

In this context, grassroots activists and younger members have repeatedly challenged the dominant pro-Zionist consensus. One of the most egregious examples was the expulsion of Palestinian-German Ramsis Kilani, ordered by Berlin state party leader Katina Schubert and then-co-leader Martin Schirdewan in December 2024. Schirdewan, still co-chair of The Left in the EU Parliament (so far largely silent about Palestine and absolutely silent regarding Israel critique, in contrast to his fellow fraction collegues from other countries or non-white fellow member from the same party), justified the move by citing alleged “glorification of terrorism” under pressure from hard right-wing mainstream media—a familiar tactic used to delegitimize Palestinian solidarity.

A public rally demanding Kilani’s reinstatement, held on October 11, 2025, outside the Karl Liebknecht House—Die Linke’s headquarters—illustrated the depth of internal unrest. Despite strong grassroots support, the party’s disciplinary apparatus has repeatedly delayed any meaningful resolution, a symptom of how unsettled the internal debate over Palestine solidarity remains.

The leadership’s ambivalence—reflected in its hesitations and repeated delays of the BDS and PACBI support vote—reveals the extent of these contradictions. Notably, Die Linke’s lethargic and equivocal response during nearly two years of Israeli mass violence in Gaza has drawn heavy condemnation. While international left movements mobilized in solidarity, Die Linke initially voiced unconditional support for Israel and remained silent or evasive for months. Only under sustained grassroots and public pressure did the leadership finally acknowledge the catastrophic humanitarian crisis unfolding in Gaza.

At the “United for Gaza” demonstration in September 2025, co-chair Ines Schwerdtner faced intense criticism for the leadership’s earlier silence and ultimately issued a public apology. Her counterpart, Jan van Aken, worsened tensions days earlier by refusing to describe Israeli actions as genocide and instead denounced parts of the pro-Palestine movement, even suggesting potential expulsions for members displaying “extremist” solidarity.

Such remarks highlighted not only internal disunity but also a profound ideological estrangement from anti-colonial principles.

Grassroots Resistance and Renewal

Over recent months, the party’s grassroots—especially in migrant-majority districts like Neukölln and Wedding—have carried forward the banner of solidarity. Local associations have organized protests, teach-ins, and community events centered on ending German and Die Linke complicity in Israeli crimes.

A noteworthy example came at the neighborhood festival in Berlin-Neukölln, held at bUm and organized by the district branch of Die Linke, where discussions about Palestine solidarity took center stage. These forums, open to the public, signaled a growing determination to reclaim the party’s direction from above.

Well-known figures such as Ferat Koçak and Özlem Demirel embody this generational and ideological shift. Koçak, elected to the Bundestag in February 2025, stems from activist roots among Berlin’s Kurdish and migrant communities, focusing on climate justice, refugee rights, anti-fascism and anti-racism. Demirel, serving in the European Parliament, has consistently condemned Israeli apartheid and German complicity, drawing vital connections between anti-racism, feminism, and anti-imperialism.

Other standout new and younger voices include Cansin Köktürk, who wore Palestinian solidarity symbols in the Bundestag despite censorship threats and disciplinary proceedings; Nicole Gohlke, one of the few white German MPs demanding an immediate ceasefire and accountability for German arms deliveries; and observers Cem Ince and Lea Reisner, who joined Palestine solidarity demonstrations in Berlin in October 2025 and faced police violence for their participation.

These members and their networks represent the remnants of a genuinely internationalist and principled left within Die Linke.

Their efforts underscore a growing chasm between the old guard—deeply invested in pro-Zionist legitimacy—and a younger, more radical generation that recognizes Palestine solidarity as inseparable from all other liberation struggles. The November 15 conference vote, set against escalating repression of Palestine activism by German authorities, intensifies the need for Die Linke to make an unambiguous choice.

The Broader Significance

Should Die Linke vote to support BDS and PACBI, the decision would resonate far beyond Berlin. It could signal a fundamental course correction—challenging Germany’s stifling consensus that condemns criticism of Israel as antisemitism and exposing the political manipulation inherent in that accusation. It would demonstrate that genuine left politics cannot coexist with colonial apologism and that universalist ethics demand support for Palestinian liberation, not silence before power.

Such a vote could also reshape Germany’s political discourse by reclaiming anti-imperialist language from liberal hypocrisy. It would show that solidarity with Palestine is not an “issue” but a moral and political foundation of any credible left project. The German state‘s historical responsibility, born from the Holocaust, does not excuse contemporary colonialism and ethnic cleansing; it obliges unwavering opposition to all forms of racism and apartheid—including that perpetrated by the Israeli state.

By contrast, continued hesitation or rejection would mark Die Linke’s final descent into centrist liberalism, at best. It would confirm the party’s abandonment of revolutionary internationalism in favor of parliamentary respectability and moral cowardice. Already eroded by electoral decline, leadership crises, and the departure of figures unable to reconcile their positions with the party’s direction, Die Linke would risk becoming politically irrelevant—a vessel for moral compromise rather than conviction.

The upcoming Berlin vote thus holds enormous significance. Whether or not the resolution passes, it will clarify where the party stands: with the oppressed or with the oppressors; with liberation movements worldwide or with imperial narratives disguised as social-democratic rhetoric.

Beyond Symbolism: A Moral Imperative

The debate also exposes how Palestine has become Europe’s most consequential political mirror. In Germany especially, violent state repression of Palestinian activism—bans on protests, censorship of artists, and criminalization of speech—has reached authoritarian depths. Against this backdrop, a partisan alignment with Zionism is not neutral; it is complicity. When activists are detained for waving flags, signs or chanting for liberation, and journalists face defamation for covering Israeli crimes, the insistence that “we cannot intervene” becomes indistinguishable from support for apartheid.

For a left that once invoked anti-colonial solidarity as a moral compass, neutrality today is impossible. Rosa Luxemburg, Frantz Fanon, and Amílcar Cabral taught us that liberation is indivisible. The same capitalist and imperial networks fueling wars from Gaza to the Sahel are upheld by governments that Germany allies itself with—through arms exports and normalized diplomatic cover. If Die Linke cannot oppose this unambiguously, then it forfeits the right to define itself as a leftist party at all.

At a time when Germany’s ruling parties deploy militarism abroad and austerity at home, the left’s silence on Palestine mirrors its broader capitulation. From NATO weapons deliveries to Israel and Ukraine to unconditional support for United States foreign policy, the German establishment has merged moral rhetoric with war economics. Breaking that consensus requires courage—not bureaucratic caution.

As the November 15 conference approaches, the choice before the delegates is stark. Either Die Linke rediscovers its purpose as a movement rooted in emancipatory politics and solidarity—or it becomes just another party defending the status quo.

History will remember which side it chose.

The Gen Z of the Global South strikes again!

Madagascar’s army sides with the protesting youth and seizes the power


The wave of vast uprisings throughout Africa and Asia has also reached Madagascar, the Southeast African island state and former French colony. Once again, the protests were led by the country’s youth and young adults – known as the Gen Z . They are fed up with the lack of proper education and job opportunities, failing infrastructure, high living costs and inequality, corrupt politicians, police violence and non-existing democracy; and anger has been building up for years. After days of unsuccessful attempts of breaking the uprising with police and military brutality, the army unit CAPSAT eventually mutinied and turned its weapons against the state oppression. The president Rajoelina was impeached by the National Assembly and flew to exile with help of Emmanuel Macron.

This is nothing new, Madagascar – like many countries of the Global South – has seen military coups before. There were military takeovers in five other former French colonies, Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, Gabon and Guinea since 2020. Now the army in Madagascar announced their take-over of the state institutions and is forming a transitional government on October 14th. The army will work together alongside a civilian parliament until new elections are held in up to two years, People’s Dispatch reported. The new president, colonel Randrianirina, underlined that power was handed him by the people. “This is not a coup,” he stated in the first press conference on October 16 highlighting that Madagascar’s seizure of power is taking place in support of a civilian protest movement, according to taz. Indeed, Bakary Sambe, from the Senegal-based Timbuktu Institute for Peace Studies explains that there is a visible trend of civil society backed coups in Africa that are considered as a democratization process from below. Yet, many examples have shown – like the developments after the Arab spring in Egypt – that the military cannot be trusted to work for the people but rather tends to turn against them.

Moreover, Randrianirina has now appointed Herintsalama Rajaonarivelo as a new civilian prime minister. He is a businessman, former chairman of the National Industrial Bank as well as a former consultant of the World Bank and the EU. Randrianirina justified his choice stating Rajaonarivelo has “the skills, the experience but also relations with international organisations in other countries that will collaborate with Madagascar,” according to Radio France Internationale. This hardly is good news taking into account the demands of the Gen Z and the historical developments that have led to the status quo. That is a small elite fills their pockets with millions, while 80% of the population relies on agriculture as their primary source of income; and almost 70% live “under the poverty line” with US$2.15 per person per day (according to the World Bank 2024/25).

The “Mad Queen” of Madagascar and other (neo) colonial clichés

“You cannot imagine, some years ago . . .  the journey from Tamatave to Mahavelona took only 40 minutes. Now it takes about four hours if the car doesn’t break down,” a Swiss friend explains, who has lived in Madagascar for 12 years. He is talking about one of the country’s main roads that stretches along the eastern coast, built by the Chinese but failed to be maintained by the government. Now the road is filled with huge, dangerous pot holes and the sand, mud and sea salt break the vehicles quickly. The country lacks the basic infrastructure throughout that would help to pull people out of poverty. As another example, a 17km drive in the country side took a whole two hours one way in an SUV. We passed tiny villages and plantations without seeing any other electric vehicle on the narrow bumpy and muddy road. Not even the scooters that fill the streets in Antananarivo and other cities. People walk for hours to work at their farm and back to the village – young and old, many carrying large sacks of crop on their backs. “What happens if there is an emergency, like a heart attack?” I asked the driver. “Well then there is nothing you can do: people just die,” he shrugged his shoulders.

The unacceptable living conditions in large parts of rural areas have encouraged rural exodus and the formation of a “slum proletariat” –  lumpenproletariat with the high revolutionary potential as Frantz Fanon put it. They have no prospects in the cities, a fertile breeding ground for popular uprisings, as taz describes (October 18). The vast majority end up working in informal sectors of buying and selling goods, like Hashimi from an El Pais report 2022. He belongs to the stateless Karana minority who usually even have no civil rights, rights to vote or even to own land. There have been pogroms in the minority neighbourhoods and kidnappings of Karana. Indeed, my Swiss friend explained that the Malagasy society is highly divided with intense racism against people from outside the central plateau around Antananarivo. The power in the country is highly concentrated in the capital and its Merina people consider themselves as the ruling “caste”.

The kingdom of Merina has a rich royal history. It managed to effectively resist the British and French imperialism during the reign of Queen Ranavalona I mid-19th century but at a high cost. Pursuing the policy of self-sufficiency and ancestral practices, the queen successfully fought French invasions, withdrew the trade agreements with the Brits (signed by her late husband), and outlawed and persecuted Christianity and the European missionaries. Yet, she also launched attacks to other provinces executing and enslaving masses. Especially people from other ethnic groups – in the name of “national unity” and progress of the Merina reign. However, there are horrific stories about her terror which estimates  one half of the population perished. These are mainly written by the colonialists – not least to argue how a woman cannot be an emancipated head of state and to downgrade the atrocities committed by Queen Victoria. But  research by Alison Kamhi in 2002 shows more diverse perceptions about Queen Ranavalona I by locals. Her legacy  still fascinates many and impacts the political discourse. The queen saw that dependency on imported basic goods would lead to the takeover by the Europeans. During her rule, Madagascar started a rapid industrialization: Various factories were built by the state as well as private investors. The highly controversial Queen managed to increase the prosperity in the country, survived an assassination attempt, orchestrated by her son and a French slave trader, and died peacefully 1861.

After her rule, the Merina monarchs turned back towards Christianity to collaborate with Europeans. Despite fierce resistance, finally losing independence in French invasion 1896. Monarchy was abolished, the last Queen Ranavalona III was sent to exile to Algeria and history of Malagasy kingdoms swiped out from the school curriculum. The French exercised particularly exploitative and cruel colonialism with the principle of “assimilation” to shift the island’s economy to export oriented crop production like coffee. Moreover, uprisings were brutally smashed like the revolt of 1947 to which the French troops reacted with tremendous violence: “[…] killing an estimated 30,000 to 90,000 Malagasy people over the course of 18 months. French troops engaged in widespread massacres, forced labor, and torture to quell the rebellion, leaving deep scars on the Malagasy population.” Yet, even after independence in 1960, the state was characterized by French settler power and tight relations to the former colonizer, and neo liberal Structural Adjustment Programs (SAP) of the IMF and the World Bank.

Back to the future

The rather anarchistic protests begun September 25 with growing rage about frequent power and water supply cuts as well as police violence. The Gen Z of the country demanded the basic rights of access to clean water and sufficient electricity – but also changes to the whole political system, according to L’Express. Taz reports corruption and mismanagement in the national water and electricity supplier Jirama. In addition, the island is facing the worst drought for 40 years, and international NGOs warn about a famine threatening the poor eastern and southern regions with many being displaced. Since a large part of the country’s electricity production comes from hydropower, the drought impacts the power supply.  The freedom of association, assembly and speech are highly restricted in Madagascar, as Amnesty International reports. Hence, president Andy Rajoelina reacted first with harsh repressions and violence against the protests. But the fierce Gen Z kept taking the streets until the army unit CAPSAT decided to support the uprising. It had already done this in 2009 helping Rajoelina into power. The army now ousted the same president 16 years later. “Let us join forces, military, gendarmes and police, and refuse to be paid to shoot our friends, our brothers and our sisters,” the soldiers at the base in the Soanierana district said in a video posted on social media, according to Al Jazeera on October 11.

So, history repeats itself but the spark grows. The Indian Times reports on October 27, that many of the Gen Z are ready to protest further if there is no change and their demands aren’t met. “Here, people of my age, they almost all don’t work. They are standing here with their hands in their pockets – they have no income,” tells one young person to the journalist. Moreover, Socialist Worker points out, that this time there were Union attempts to back the protest, especially in the health care sector. Camilla Royle underlines that cooperation between the workers of the continent’s huge informal sector and the organized working class is crucial to push through the demands, instead of flattening the protest movement into small reforms.

Daniel T. Makokera, explains: “Across the continent, a new phenomenon is emerging — the so-called “good coups.” In an era where leaders in their 80s and 90s cling to power through sham elections and constitutional manipulation, some Africans, especially the youth, see military takeovers as a desperate form of justice. When a 91-year-old in Cameroon can “win” an election after four decades of corruption and repression, one cannot entirely blame a generation that begins to equate stability with stagnation and revolt with renewal.” Pointing out the resent regime changes in Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, Gabon and Guinea, Makokera calls the developments a continental symptom. Where the young generation has lost their hope and trust in the “democratic” institutions – with the old imperialist powers as the puppet masters.

As one Kenyan comrade put it, for decades Africans have looked up to Europe and the US and accepted their hegemony. The younger generation is different. Armed with social media networks, they see the linkages between the poverty in their countries, neo colonialism and the international instruments of the IMF and the World Bank. They are not ready to take the exploitation anymore. During my travels in various African countries, I kept asking the same question: “You managed to chase the powerful European colonizers away some decades earlier but where is the outrage and the resistance now?” And I kept getting the same answer: “We are tired and people just disappear easily if they try to organize protests. During the colonial time it was easy to point out who the enemy is but now we are exploited and oppressed by our own people.” Charismatic military leaders like Traoré in Burkina Faso are hardly the long-term solution for the true liberation of the people of the Global South, but perhaps are the means to the right direction. Yet, the most important lesson learned here remains, that the people are finding their power and agency to unite, resist and to liberate themselves.