A commentary by Philipp Peyman Engel, Editor-in-Chief of the Jüdische Allgemeine
They came in the early morning and had only one goal: to kill as many Jews as possible. More than 1,200 Israelis were murdered by the Palestinian group Hamas on October 7, 2023, in southern Israel. Among the dead were babies, teenagers, women, parents, people with disabilities, the elderly, and Holocaust survivors. It is the darkest moment in the history of Israel and the darkest day in the history of the Jewish people since 1945. On no other day since the Shoah have more Jews been murdered than on October 7.
But not only in Israel, but also in Germany, the Jewish community is in grave danger. The threat has probably never been as acute as it is now since the founding of the Federal Republic. Since the Jewish state began defending itself against Hamas terror, we too have been experiencing an unprecedented wave of anti-Semitic threats and attacks here in Germany.
The 7th of October hadn't even passed when German security authorities felt compelled to further intensify the already very close protection of Jewish institutions. These measures were by no means excessive. Following October 7th, Hamas called for a worldwide "Day of Rage" on three consecutive Fridays, which was nothing less than a call to murder Jews.
On that day, fear won. On the first of those Fridays, my children – like so many other Jewish children – stayed home and did not attend their Jewish daycare. Despite all our courage and determination not to be tyrannized by an anti-Semitic mob – on that day, fear won.
Anyone who wants to understand what it means to be Jewish in Germany in 2025, exactly 80 years after the Holocaust, need only look at the news of the past few months: A Jewish student is beaten so badly he requires hospitalization and suffers three facial fractures. Because he is Jewish and pro-Israel. A Libyan asylum seeker commits an arson attack on the synagogue in Erfurt, in Berlin a snack bar owner assaults an Israeli filmmaker, three young Arab men beat and kick an Israeli man simply because he speaks Hebrew, and in Frankfurt a rabbi is subjected to antisemitic insults in front of his hotel – the list of these incidents grows longer every day.
At rallies in Berlin, Essen, Duisburg, and Frankfurt, so-called pro-Palestinian demonstrators celebrated the deaths of Jews, chanted antisemitic slogans en masse, and demanded a Jew-free Palestine "from the river to the sea." The police, while well-intentioned, are hopelessly overwhelmed by the sheer number of agitated and often violent demonstrators, predominantly of Arab and Turkish origin. This represents a loss of control by the state, a temporary suspension of its monopoly on the use of force.
The truth is that Jews in Germany are once again wondering where they would live if the worst happened. Things have started to unravel. The attacks are increasing, and they're coming from all sides. Many Jews no longer dare to be identifiable as Jewish in public. They're fed up with the constant verbal and physical attacks. Some suitcases are already packed. Mine too? No. Not yet. But honestly, I've checked on them more than once since October 7th. Always within easy reach.
But then there's a supposed detail that won't let me go: I'm German. This is where I belong! I was born here, this is where I'm meant to be. And anyone who doesn't want that is to blame themselves. They, not me, should be the ones packing their bags.
I will fight. I will not and will not be tyrannized by an antisemitic mob. Germany is a good country, despite everything. With many wonderful people. But a society that gives antisemitism space to flourish is teetering on the brink of disaster. Germany has a choice.
This article first appeared in our newspaper "Israelaktuell," issue 141. You can order the newspaper here . We would also be happy to send you several copies for distribution.
