Month: October 2026 (Page 5 of 7)

While many of this week’s readings focus on the AfD’s hostility toward migrants in general, I kept coming back to the group the party treats differently. CNN reports that the AfD’s Saxony-Anhalt manifesto aims “remigration” at Ukrainian refugees, while also calling for an end to sanctions on Russia and for free Russian-language instruction. Meanwhile, the party has made no comparable push for benefit cuts or deportations aimed at Russian nationals or the Russlanddeutsche, the ethnic German returnees from the former Soviet Union.

One might expect that a party focused on opposing immigration would sort migrants by how culturally or ethnically different it considers them, which would put Ukrainians among the more “acceptable” groups. Instead, the line seems to follow the party’s foreign policy. I’m not sure whether that reflects sympathy for (or influence from) Russia, the importance of Russian-German voters in the east, or something else. I’d like to know how Ukrainian refugees in places like Saxony-Anhalt read the AfD’s position, and whether Russian-Germans there see themselves as part of the party’s base.

The German government’s record is harder to read. Berlin has been one of Ukraine’s strongest supporters, yet Ukrainians who arrived after April 1, 2025 were downgraded from Bürgergeld to the asylum seekers’ rate, and this summer’s “Grundsicherung” reform added stricter sanctions on top of that. The Interior Ministry frames these changes as a push towards employment, which could seem reasonable on its own. But Ukrainians were the one group never required to take German classes, so tying benefits more closely to finding work seems to penalize them for a gap the government’s policies helped create. My interview with Anastasiia for the news piece also raised questions for me about how individual German employers may be raising their typical standards for Ukrainian applicants. I wondered whether anyone in the ministry made that connection, or whether the cuts were mostly a response to political pressure to cut Ukraine assistance.

Given the frequent comparisons with MAGA, I’m also curious whether the AfD’s position overlaps with skepticism toward Ukraine aid on the American right, and whether the two movements influence each other on this.

For me, the Ukraine case shows that a refugee’s status can depend on politics far removed from their own situation. Ukrainians arrived in Germany under more generous terms than any other group. If German support for Ukraine weakens, or the AfD gains more power, their position could change regardless of anything they have done. That seems like an interesting question to explore in Berlin, especially in conversations with Ukrainians who have had different experiences with German government assistance and private employment opportunities.

CNN describes the AfD’s campaign, Vision 2026, as clearly aimed at challenging long-held European values. I was struck by Vision 2026’s parallels to the American far-right’s Project 2025, an extreme outline for an America-first reinvention being widely implemented through a slew of executive orders by President Trump. This same rhetoric can be found throughout the AfD’s campaign, with a Germany first mentality throughout its messaging. The populist messaging of the MAGA-right within America and the AfD in America are able to capitalize off of economic concerns. 

The AfD’s goal of “shutting down the asylum paradise” for instance, in order to prioritize resources to native-born Germans, may be an increasingly popular option for Germans as they remain in an economic slump mostly driven by rising energy costs and a declining eligible skilled workforce. By minimizing asylum, the AfD argues it can instead offer greater incentives for skilled immigrant laborers. Those rising energy costs, though, for instance, can be directly traced to Russia’s invasion of the Ukraine; still, the AfD aligns itself with the asks of the Kremlin as its talking points relating to the on-going war.

The party’s interest in expanding the list of countries that Germany considers safe for migrants to return to does not take into account the destroyed infrastructure many of those countries continue to suffer from, such as Syria after the fall of Assad. This, the AfD hopes, could make housing more affordable for native-born Germans and free up resources to put towards Germans instead of towards supporting refugee migrants from countries like Afghanistan, Syria, and the Ukraine. 

Still, the AfD’s demonstrating of wanting to protect its culture, the German language, and reimagine the priorities of its history curriculum away from Holocaust-remembrance and towards German war legends such as Otto van Bismarck highlights how economic prosperity is not at the heart of all of their initiatives. Economic struggles have historically led to scapegoating, including in and famously in Germany (the rise of Hitler and Nazism as a response to the Great Depression). Still, this correlation creates zero convincing causation of scapegoating tactics and nationalist extremism as improving the economic condition of a nation. Brexit, for instance, resulted in British economic collapse as opposed to solving it. That same German isolationist policy summarized by a “Europe of Fatherlands” and a “sovereign Germany” cultivates hatred for refugees that are stuck between an unsafe homeland and a lack of upward mobility opportunities, such as those that the Ukrainian refugees, who have been encouraged to not work, are experiencing. 

Memo on potential topics for Berlin Reporting– In Syria, coffee is not just a drink, its a connection to the culture, language, and land. Strong Arabic coffee brewed with cardamom is offered to guests as a sign of welcome, poured at weddings and funerals, and shared over conversations that stretch late into the night. It is a deeply rooted social ritual that is centered on hospitality and conversation. Over the past decade, this culture of Ahweh, traditional brew, has taken root in Berlin. Along Sonnenallee in Neukölln, often called the city’s “Arab Street,” Syrian cafés, bakeries, and sweet shops opened and staffed by refugees have transformed the neighborhood into a lively hub, rich in Middle Eastern identity and Arabic signage. For many Syrians, these cafés serve as living rooms, or third spaces, away from home and work: places to speak Arabic, follow news from Damascus or Aleppo, find work, and feel a sense of belonging.

I want to report on what these cafés mean to the Syrian community now, at a moment of profound uncertainty. When Assad fell in December 2024, Sonnenallee was filled with celebrations, but Germany’s response has made the future far less clear with a rise in anti-migration rhetoric and the AfD has called for Syrians to return home. For café owners who built businesses from nothing, the question of whether to stay, return, or try to live between two countries is no longer hypothetical. With food and drink often being a bridge between identities and diverse communities, I am interested in studying how these cafes have become a third space providing refugees employment and relevant information for support networks in the surrounding area.

I would structure my reporting around this particular third space, which has been a defining feature of the Syrian community in Berlin. I hope to conduct my research in a traditional coffee house, where elders gather and where owners may import cardamom and coffee blends that recreate the taste of home. The second is a family-run sweet shop or bakery, where Syrian pastries and coffee have become popular with Germans and other Berliners, showing how Syrian culture has become part of the city itself. My guiding questions are: Since Assad’s fall, are café owners and regulars thinking about returning to Syria? How has the political debate in Germany changed the atmosphere in these spaces, or how others see them? And what would Berlin lose if these businesses and the people who run them left?

These cafés also exist in a charged political context. I want to better understand whether Syrian café owners feel welcomed as part of the city or viewed with suspicion, and how that shapes their decisions about the future. Before the trip, I plan to identify cafés along Sonnenallee and in other Berlin neighborhoods with large Syrian communities, and reach out to owners through social media and community organizations. I will also contact Syrian community groups and Arabic-speaking Princeton connections who may have contacts in Berlin to gain translation assistance for my interviews. Since many older owners and regulars may speak primarily Arabic, I will arrange for a translator or bilingual guide where needed. 

The larger story may be about how a community that arrived seeking refuge has made itself part of a city, one cup of coffee at a time, and what happens when the country around it begins to question whether it belongs. Once in Berlin, I will remain open to stronger stories that emerge from conversations on the ground.

I have a few ideas that I’d like to pursue in Berlin. One topic I’m drawn to is LGBTQ Afghan refugees. There is a Berlin-based organization called Rainbow Afghanistan that was founded by exiled Afghan LGBTQ activists, and I plan to reach out to ask whether any members will talk with me. This seems like a complex story – fleeing to Berlin may offer LGBTQ Afghans freedoms and opportunities that were not available in Afghanistan, but this would also alienate them from their own diaspora. Especially with changing German government policies towards Afghan refugees and asylum seekers, I’m curious whether they feel they can stay and how they interact with both the Afghan diaspora and the local German LGBTQ community. This may be challenging to pursue, as I imagine that many sources may be unwilling to speak on the record, and I’m not sure how much of a language barrier there will be.

I’m also interested in Syrian refugees, who have been under increasing pressure to leave Germany since Assad’s fall. Syrians who travel back to their home country can lose their German protected status, and I’m curious how this is affecting Syrians who have been building lives in Berlin for years. The LGBTQ refugee angle could also be interesting in the Syrian refugee population. I couldn’t locate a Syrian equivalent to Rainbow Afghanistan, but I did find Mahmoud Hassino, a journalist and activist who founded Mawaleh, Syria’s first LGBT magazine, before he was forced to leave the country. He now works in Berlin on projects supporting LGBT refugees, including Berlin’s first major refugee center exclusively for LGBT people. This could potentially be a way in for a story about LGBTQ refugees in Berlin across both the Afghan and Syrian communities.

My third idea is continuing reporting on Ukrainians, since my first news piece focused on Anastasiia, a Ukrainian refugee weighing whether to stay in Germany after the far right’s recent election wins. Berlin is home to the Unity Hub, which provides services to Ukrainian refugees in Germany but also seems partly meant to encourage Ukrainians to return home. Anastasiia described Germany as working “in both directions,” helping Ukrainians settle while also actively preparing for their return, and this would be an interesting tension to explore.

Once we’re in Berlin, I expect that the conversations I have (or don’t have) will narrow down my topics and point me towards a sharper story. Until then, I’ll keep doing background research and reach out to potential contacts.

I have been doing outreach and research into two different ideas. I’ve been very interested in humanitarian accountability for wartime atrocities for years, but especially since reporting from Jerusalem on the Gaza genocide this past summer. Deb told me about a trial taking place in Koblenz, Germany for the 2012-2018 starvation of Yarmouk, a Palestinian refugee district in Syria. Five men with links to the Assad regime have been charged, but only one allegedly ordered the use of starvation as a weapon of war. The trial will have significant reverberations for war crimes prosecutions, as it is the first time that starvation of civilians has been prosecuted as a war crime. I have reached out to a couple of experts on famine to learn more about the trial’s legal implications. I’ve also read some of the court transcripts, which are widely available, and I’m wondering about talking to a few witnesses, if that’s at all possible. The “Drummer of Yarmouk,” a witness who helped lead a peaceful demonstration in 2012 before militias opened fire on the camp and inflicted a massacre, was a key witness. I’d be really interested in interrogating that event as a microcosm for the destruction that followed. 

My second idea is to write about pro-Palestinian activism in Berlin, state repression of such activism, and its impact on the Palestinian migrant community. In recent days, I’ve seen a lot of videos on social media of police harassing, beating, and violently detaining pro-Palestinian activists, and knocking down or forcibly seizing their Palestinian flags. I also follow a few journalists and activists who strategically confront police officers to expose this repression, although they are often prevented from filming. I’m curious as to how the activist community has adapted to this hostile environment, and how it affects the safety of recent Palestinian migrants. I’ve made connections with a couple of activists and plan to meet with one in person while in Berlin: something I’ve consistently heard from them is that they are skeptical of traditional political parties, even Die Linke, because they don’t believe electoral politics will substantively change conditions for Palestinians in Berlin. I’ve also heard testimonies of police assault. Berlin’s second borough has a large Arab diaspora, and activists described increased police scrutiny and harassment in this area. People sometimes struggled to cross the street or get into their house due to the excessive police presence. I’m hoping to talk to people who live in predominantly Arab areas about the surveillance they’ve experienced, and learn about who the police have singled out.

These ideas aren’t well-defined, and I anticipate that they’ll evolve once I talk to people on the ground. I’ve also encountered a lot of reluctance from activists to divulge too much detail over the phone, so I’m looking forward to in-person interviews and developing a more specific, tailored direction for my reporting.

3 pitches:

• Holocaust Memory and the Rise of the AfD

The relationship between German memory culture and anti-migrant sentiment has been the focus of sociologists for some time, and I now turn journalistic attention to the subject as the AfD and strands of its racist ideology become more popular. White, right-wing Germans, who commit the majority of antisemitic offenses in the country, primarily take two main approaches to memory culture: 1) they reject it or 2) they proclaim that sufficient atonement for the Nazi atrocities has already occurred, and any antisemitism lingering in the country has actually been “imported” by migrants. Migrants have become scapegoats for anti-semitism, just as Jews became the Nazis’ scapegoats for the ills of the day. I aim to investigate this symmetry. I am primarily interested in investigating how those who have accepted German guilt for the Holocaust can still support the AfD or espouse Nazi-adjacent beliefs about migrants. There is a sort of moral blindspot here.

For a scholarly perspective, I’d be delighted to interview Susan Neiman, who studies evil, German self-consciousness, and the Holocaust (and was previously interviewed for a memory culture piece in this class). Tracking down sources to speak on their support for AfD, coupled with their views on memory culture, will be the primary challenge in researching this piece.

• The “District Mothers”  

Somewhat distinct yet connected to the memory culture idea, I am interested in pursuing a project on the Stadtteilmütter (“district mothers”), an organization of migrant women who act as mentors to newer arrivals in their neighborhoods. Memory scholar Michael Rothberg has written about these women hosting seminars and directing documentaries about the Holocaust and Nazism. It has led me to be interested in how and why newcomers invest in memory culture, and the relationship between memory culture and citizenship.

• The migrant comedy scene in Berlin

“Humor is just truth, only faster!” declared comedian Gilda Radner. There is perhaps no better window into the zeitgeist than comedy: it reflects the fears and absurdities of the cultural/ political moment. I am interested in locating migrant comics in Berlin and evaluating the function/evolving value of humor in an era of increasing racism, uncertainty, and violence. 

I’ve come across several prominent migrant comics whose work is particularly socio-politically engaged. Enissa Amani, a refugee from Tehran, is a comedian and activist based in Frankfurt. She was the first European woman to have an international Netflix special in 2018, and she uses her platform to criticize racism and intolerance in Germany. Kinan Al is a Syrian-born stand-up whose work tackles Arab identity. Serdar Somuncu, from Turkey, is a provocative and controversial comic whose upcoming show in Berlin reportedly “dismantles everything that considers itself sacrosanct: political correctness, outrage culture, moral arrogance – and you.” Then there’s RebelComedy, a German stand-up troupe composed completely of comedians from migrant backgrounds. Their routines poke fun and respond to current events. 

These are all relatively big names in Berlin– so I’m not certain I’ll be able to interview them. I’m in the process of reaching out now. Otherwise, there are weekly (English-language) shows at Cosmic Comedy Club Berlin, Comedy Café Berlin, and other venues, where I can find sources and discern the problems of the day via satire.

What struck me from this week’s readings were the parallels between Nazism and AfD ideology. The language employed by the parties is strikingly similar. Both considered the concept of “remigration”/plans for mass deportation; both have a dangerously nationalistic approach to policy, evident in the AfD’s wish to protect the Leitkultur (leading culture); and both parties have succeeded democratically (that is, voted in) by way of scapegoating vulnerable populations (Jews or migrants mainly). The secret meeting described in the Correctiv investigation proves the hypotheses about this ideological symmetry true. The AfD convention, perhaps by mere coincidence, took place only 8 kilometres away from the site of the Wannsee Conference, the meeting where the Nazis devised the Final Solution. And the AfD’s “masterplan” for migrants echoes the Nazis’ “solution” to “the Jewish Question.” I am left to wonder how neo-Nazism survived the decades-long, state-championed campaign to instill the Holocaust in the conscience of every German, and thereby root out the bigotry that fueled it. Has memory culture failed? Or is this backlash to it? Do supporters of AfD not see the connection between anti-migrant xenophobia and anti-semitism? Or is this kind of moral doublethink simply an unavoidable habit of the human conscience?  

There is also, of course, the parallel with MAGA. The AfD’s “Vision 2026” is reminiscent of the Heritage Foundation’s “Project 2025.” And the populist support for the AfD, born out of discontent with the cost of living, mirrors Trump’s appeal to working class Americans. This has led me to be curious about the relationship between German and American political leadership. How does Merz feel about Trump? And how does the AfD feel about him?   

The Correctiv piece is a great example of what investigative journalism can do at its best: catalyze a movement. I think of the more famous investigative pieces– Upton Sinclair’s “The Jungle,” which helped bring about federal food safety laws, The Boston Globe’s report on the Catholic Church sexual abuse scandal, which engendered accountability for the victims, and Jodi Kantor and Meghan Twohey’s story on Harvey Weinstein, which essentially launched #MeToo. The Correctiv’s story is perhaps less flashy than those – it’s about the exchange of ideas at a secret conference – but it made a splash nonetheless. I’m curious if there’s some commonality between these pieces, ones which have the ability to transform public outrage into action, or whether this kind of impact is simply a mix of good reporting and luck. Regardless, it is gratifying to know that journalism has this power, to illuminate wrongdoing and rouse backlash forceful enough to culminate in accountability. 

Reading this week’s passages provided a glimpse into how a party that has never governed at the national level can still reshape a country’s migration policy. What struck me most was Correctiv’s investigation into the secret meeting outside Potsdam, where Martin Sellner presented a “remigration” plan that targeted not only asylum seekers and foreign residents, but also “non-assimilated” German citizens. The idea that citizenship itself could be conditional, granted to some and withdrawn from others, was the most unsettling part of the story. Although the meeting was to remain secret, copies of letters were leaked revealing how this masterplan was an attack on the German constitution. This article made me question how secure citizenship is when its protections depend on who holds political power, and how democracy can protect itself against these extremes? 

What complicated the story for me was what came after. The Brussels Signal framed a Berlin court ruling as proof the story was “completely fabricated,” yet the dispute centered on specific statements rather than the meeting itself. This connected to last week’s readings on accountability, such as how Azmat Khan’s reporting revealed what military investigations had overlooked, Correctiv exposed what was meant to stay hidden. Both cases show that investigative journalism often becomes the only form of accountability available to expose the underbelly of this political battle.

The Courthouse News Service piece on the Brandmauer, the informal pact for mainstream parties never to govern with the AfD, showed how the firewall can hold formally whilst also eroding in practice. When Friedrich Merz’s CDU passed a migration motion with AfD votes, it demonstrated that the AfD does not need to hold power to set the agenda. Also, the Economist added that the AfD’s support is concentrated in struggling regions like the Ruhr, where economic decline and distrust of established parties have made its message more heard. From these readings, I gathered that the political ground in Germany actively shifting with the AfD strengthening in western Germany and reaching unseen levels of growth in the east.

Perhaps the most revealing pattern was how differently each refugee group has been treated as policy hardened. Ukrainians arriving after April 2025 were moved onto a lower benefit rate, while those who came earlier kept the higher one, creating a two-tier system within the same community. For Syrians, the protection rate collapsed from 44.4% in 2024 to 2.1% in 2025 after Assad’s fall, and family reunification was suspended until 2027. Afghans saw their resettlement program suspended, even though a court ruled that one family’s 2023 commitment was legally binding. The contrast suggests that migration policy in Germany is being shaped not only by numbers, but by which groups are seen as belonging.

I hope to pay closer attention to how these policies are experienced on the ground in Berlin, particularly among groups whose status has shifted the most, like Syrians awaiting family reunification. I have begun to wonder whether the firewall’s greatest weakness is not a formal coalition with the AfD, but the gradual adoption of its ideas by the parties meant to keep it out?

No Name, No Accountability

Mila was only fourteen years old when she was raped. After enjoying a cigarette with her classmates in Berlin, she left her friends early to return home. “I assume that’s when he spotted me,” she says. Mila was walking through the neighborhood when an adult man approached, restrained, and then assaulted her. The man was never caught. When a refugee is identified as a suspect or offender, German authorities can prosecute them under the same criminal law that applies to German citizens and other people within the country. However, a conviction does not always mean an offender can be deported after serving their sentence. A few notable challenges are missing travel documents and difficulties confirming a person’s nationality with their country of origin. Germany also cannot return a refugee to a country where they face a verifiable risk of torture or inhuman treatment, even if that refugee has committed a serious crime like sexual assault. As a result, an offender could potentially remain in Germany after being released.

Missing identity documents create another problem. Some refugees arrive without passports, leaving authorities to establish their identities through other methods, including information from guest registers at hostels or hotels where they may have stayed. “I worked at two hostels while in Germany and both played fast and loose with the documentation rules,” says Jessica Tutor. “While there were no sexual assaults while I was there [hostel], there were regular reports of women feeling ‘creeped out’ by the men who did long-term stays.”

A police inspection of a hostel on Wundtstraße on April 20, 2021 documented a case where officers visited and investigated the hotel after receiving an anonymous tip from the public. According to Berlin police, the owner had not documented his guests’ identities and could not provide specific information about them. Among the guests were individuals who police suspected had left their assigned refugee accommodation to flee a potential deportation. Officers also found a 26-year-old man who was staying in Germany unlawfully. Authorities closed the hotel and investigated the operator for violating the Residence Act. Although the police statement reported no sexual assault, the case provides an example of what can happen when guest records are incomplete: authorities may not know who is staying at a particular address.

Mila left her friends that evening with the normal expectation of making it home safely. At fourteen, she should not have been expected to remember every detail of her attacker’s face, especially after experiencing a violent assault. His identity remains unknown, and neither his appearance nor the neighborhood where the assault occurred can establish where he came from. For Mila, accountability would mean knowing the identity of the man who assaulted her. Years later, she still does not.

Berlin is home to one of the finest, and most renowned orchestras in the world: the Berliner Philharmoniker (Berlin Philharmonic). This orchestra is comprised of members from thirty nations, including from nations at war with each other. The Berliner Philharmoniker and its conductor Kirill Petrenko have been ambassadors for UN refugee aid since 2021, the first organisation to earn such a status. The Philharmoniker has publicly supported UNO-Flüchtlingshilfe, the German partner of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) since 2021.

Petrenko, a Russian-Austrian Jewish conductor, has publicly condemned the Russian invasion of the Ukraine as a violation of international law and as an attack on the arts. The Philharmoniker has been an official patron of the Kyiv Symphony Orchestra and the Youth Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine since 2023. 

In November of 2026, the Philharmoniker will host a family concert in aid of the UN Refugee Agency, as they have consistently since 2021. At the end of the season during the summers, the orchestra also performs an outdoor concert as a fundraiser for the UNO-Flüchtlingshilfe, with the musicians wearing blue ribbons in solidarity with refugees. 

The orchestra, as an orchestra of musicians from dozens of countries, represents an interesting microcosm within Berlin of hope amidst the rise of the AfD: through the arts, musicians from across borders at war with each others can create art together and advocate for refugees across the world. 

With the rise of the AfD, the Philharmoniker’s public messaging in support of refugees appears to have grown smaller. The artist bios of the musicians, which may have previously stated their country of origin are now revised. In Berlin, I hope to profile the symphony’s work in the refugee advocacy space, write an update on their work in support of the Kyiv orchestras (which has not been done since 2023), and interview musicians and arts administrators on their relationship with the UNHCR, UNO-Flüchtlingshilfe, and the relationships between musicians in the orchestra from nations at war with each other. 

While we will be in Berlin, the Philharmoniker will be on their South American tour. However, next week, they will be in New York City performing at Carnegie Hall. I am currently working to see if I can set up interviews with members of the orchestra will they will be here, and also with members and administrators who are not on tour with the orchestra currently to meet with them in Berlin. I also want to speak with affiliates at the UNHCR and with Ukrainian refugee musicians in Berlin. 

Being a musician is a skilled trade, and also one that often doesn’t require a shared spoken language at the highest levels. The Berliner Philharmoniker, like most premiere orchestras, conducts blind auditions to fill open chairs, or vacancies in the symphony, and does not require German proficiency, unlike many jobs within Berlin. This can result in an orchestra of the finest musicians, and also musicians who may, should they not have earned a permanent position in the orchestra, would be unable to work in Berlin. 

In contrast to the Berliner Philharmoniker, as they will be in South America while we are in Berlin, I hope to interview local musicians, especially migrant or refugee musicians. These are often musicians who “busk” on streets, perform in refugee cafés, nightclubs, lounges, or other smaller musical venues within the city. Therefore, a secondary question guiding my reporting is: does the Berliner Philharmoniker, as an organization that explicitly aims to combat refugee crises, do enough to support refugees within its own city?