Germans must confront the hatred of asylum seekers in their midst

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/aug/03/germany-asylum-seekers-rightwing-attacks

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Every night when I turn on the news these days, I feel ashamed to be German. Almost every day there is an attack on asylum seekers’ homes somewhere in my country, and in many places the opening of such buildings is accompanied by racists taking to the streets and shouting hateful slogans. The German interior ministry registered 173 instances of criminal rightwing offences against accommodation for asylum seekers during the first six months of this year, almost three times as many as during the same period last year.

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While the attacks take place all over Germany, many of the incidents happened in Saxony, which is becoming the centre of rightwing activity. Last winter thousands of supporters of the so-called Patriotic Europeans against the Islamisation of the West movement (Pegida) marched against Muslims and refugees in Dresden.

Watching these developments on the news, I am reminded of an encounter I had a while ago in Dresden, the capital of Saxony, where I was researching a book about the aftermath of the war. Before arriving in the city, I got in touch with some old school friends; one of them, Kristine, had married an engineer and now worked in Dresden as a primary school teacher. She lived in a pristine terraced house in the suburbs, echinacea and phlox blossomed in the garden, two cars were parked on the drive. We sat in Kristine’s living room, I admired the pictures of her two sons and marvelled at her holiday memories of Australia, Kenya and Thailand. She wasn’t rich, but her life was comfortable, free of bigger worries – so I thought.

In the past people might have harboured the same thoughts in secret, but now they feel entitled to show their hatred

In the 1990s Kristine and I had shared a boarding room in Eisenhüttenstadt in the former GDR. This was during the dark time after the fall of the wall, after the main employer, the steel factory, had laid off thousands of people. Racism was growing, not just in Eisenhüttenstadt, but in the whole of Germany, and soon everywhere asylum seekers’ homes went up in flames.

I quickly regretting bringing up this subject in front of Kristine. The word “Ausländer“ (foreigner) made the mild-mannered primary teacher who had never shown any interest in politics before turn angry and severe. More and more of them are coming over here! They get everything for free: computers, food, clothing! Meanwhile I have to get up and work hard every day, she complained. They’re ruining this country, Kristine concluded. I finished my cake quickly and left. Her aggression had embarrassed me, but also left me strangely helpless.

My trip to Dresden was before the recent surge in racist violence, but it seems that everything that underlies the problems that have flared up in Saxony was already there then: the irrational anger, the helplessness. The meeting with my Dresden friend still haunts me.

When I now switch the TV on and see the reports on anti-refugee, anti-Muslim demonstrations in and around Dresden, I think about the conversation with Kristine. I would not be surprised to discover her in the crowd. In fact, I worry that her face may flash up on my TV screen one day. I recognise the same anger in the faces of old pensioners, of young fathers who shout “Ausländer raus” into the camera. It’s their self-confidence that shocks me – in the past people might have harboured the same thoughts in secret, but now they somehow feel entitled to show their hatred. Like it’s something to be proud of.

At first sight, Germans seem to love other cultures. They are world champions when it comes to travelling: you can find German tourists in the furthest corners of the globe. But when those foreigners come to their land, they can turn intolerant.

Forward-thinking politicians could have anticipated that an influx in the number of refugees arriving in their regions would trigger social tensions, but they too seem equally helpless or surprised. Some even gave the demonstrators credibility by addressing them as “worried citizens” – as if shouting hateful slogans is now part of political discourse. Horst Seehofer, chairman of the Bavarian Christian Social party, sister party to Angela Merkel’s CDU, even warned of the “misuse of asylum”, adding fuel to the rightwing fiery rhetoric.

Are Germans once again a bunch of racists, xenophobia running in our genes? I don’t think so. The majority of people don’t really care about refugees, we are so used to looking away from their poverty and their suffering. Occasionally, when the Mediterranean washes up hundreds of corpses, we’re shocked for a day or two, and then we get on with our own lives. For too long, the majority of people have been too quiet, ignoring the hate and the coldness, treating the rightwing movement like a petulant child, hoping it would just go away. Just like me with my friend Kristine.

In 1945, a young girl came as a refugee from Poland to a village near Berlin. Some people called her “thief” or “criminal” because of her background, but one farmer gave her food and shelter. Without the help of the farmer she would probably not have survived. That girl was my grandmother. Germans should remember that many of them came originally from different places, fleeing war, dictatorship and poverty, just like the refugees of today. They deserve our help, just as the farmer helped once my granny. In retrospect, that’s what I should have told Kristine.