A crackdown on political dissent is well under way in Germany. Over the past two years, institutions and authorities have canceled events, exhibitions and awards over statements about Palestine or Israel.
The Frankfurt Book Fair indefinitely postponed an award ceremony for Adania Shibli, the Heinrich Boll Foundation withdrew the Hannah Arendt Prize from Masha Gessen and the University of Cologne rescinded a professorship for Nancy Fraser.
German ministers defamed the directors of the documentary No Other Land, Basel Adra and Yuval Abraham, and more recently, the philosopher Omri Boehm was disinvited from speaking at this month’s anniversary of the liberation of the Buchenwald concentration camp.
In nearly all of the cases, accusations of anti-Semitism loomed large — even though Jews are often among those being targeted. More often than not, liberals are driving or tacitly accepting the cancelations, while conservatives and the far right lean back and cheer them on. While vigilance against rising anti-Semitism is no doubt warranted — especially in Germany — that concern is increasingly weaponized as a political tool to silence the left.
Germany has taken a chilling new step, signaling its willingness to use political views as grounds to curb migration. Authorities are moving to deport foreign nationals for participating in pro-Palestine actions.
Four people in Berlin — three EU citizens and one US citizen — are set to be deported over their involvement in demonstrations against Israel’s war on Gaza. None of the four have been convicted of a crime, and yet the authorities are seeking to throw them out of the country.
The accusations against them include aggravated breach of the peace and obstruction of a police arrest.
Reports from last year suggested that one of the actions they were alleged to have been involved in included breaking into a university building and threatening people with objects that could have been used as potential weapons.
The deportation orders go further. They cite a broader list of alleged behaviors: chanting slogans such as “Free Gaza” and “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” joining road blockades (a tactic frequently used by climate activists) and calling a police officer a “fascist.”
Read closely, the real charge appears to be something more basic: protest itself.
All four are also accused — without evidence — of supporting Hamas and of chanting anti-Semitic or anti-Israel slogans. Three of the deportation orders explicitly cite Germany’s national commitment to defend Israel, its so-called Staatsrason, or reasons of state, as justification.
Legal experts told me that invoking Staatsrason in deportation proceedings is legally dubious. A parliamentary review reached a similar conclusion, stating that Staatsrason — often cited to justify Germany’s foreign policy toward Israel, including the plan of the incoming chancellor, Friedrich Merz, to invite Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu despite an international criminal court arrest warrant — carries no legally enforceable weight.
That kind of repression is not new in Germany. The lawyer Alexander Gorski said he has handled similar cases where migration law was used against people of Arab or Palestinian descent — often triggered by a social media post, comment or even a “like.”
Today, politicians across Germany’s political spectrum routinely invoke the country’s history to silence criticism of Israeli policy — backing a state accused of enforcing apartheid in the West Bank and, as a growing consensus among human rights experts argues, committing genocide in Gaza.
Using immigration law to police political protest sends a clear message to noncitizens in Germany: Speak out and you risk losing your status — or being deported.
The extent to which this plays into the hands of the far-right Alternative fur Deutschland (AfD) party seems lost on much of Germany’s so-called political center.
For the AfD, Staatsrason has become a convenient shield — a way to stoke resentment against migrants allegedly “importing” anti-Semitism and push back against a broader, more inclusive culture of remembrance, often reductively dismissed as “postcolonialism.”
All of it is cloaked in the language of unwavering support for Israel.
The AfD in February secured about 20 percent of the vote in Germany’s federal elections.
Just weeks before the election, Tesla CEO Elon Musk expressed his support for the party during a live discussion with its leader, Alice Weidel. At one point, Weidel absurdly called Adolf Hitler “a communist” and claimed that “leftish Palestinians” in Germany are anti-Semitic.
As outrageous as the remarks were, they reflect a broader trend that the liberal center unwillingly helped to normalize — a drift that exploits anti-Palestinian sentiment to fuel far-right revisionism.
While Germany’s established parties formally reject cooperation with the AfD, their growing accommodation of AfD-style rhetoric — especially on migration — tells a different story.
In the run-up to the election, parties across the spectrum, from the Greens to the Christian Democratic Union (CDU), spoke about migration as a security threat, and promised deportations and tighter controls.
In such a climate, Palestine has turned into somewhat of a litmus test for asylum policy.
Last year, Merz declared that Germany would not accept refugees from Gaza.
“We already have enough anti-Semitic young men in the country,” he said.
After the newly elected lawmaker Cansin Kokturk of the Die Linke party appeared in the Bundestag wearing a scarf resembling a keffiyeh, members of the conservative CDU pushed to ban such symbols in parliament.
No such objection was raised when the AfD lawmaker Torben Braga wore a blue cornflower — a symbol used by Austrian Nazis in the 1930s — in the same chamber. Braga said it was not a cornflower and called the accusation “absurd.”
With a new conservative government in power, the crackdown on Palestinians and migrants — already well under way with the so-called traffic-light coalition — is set to further escalate. Germany is at a crossroads: It can choose to uphold the principles it claims to stand for, or continue down a path of authoritarianism. For now, the direction seems unmistakably clear.
Hanno Hauenstein is a Berlin-based journalist and author. He worked as a senior editor in Berliner Zeitung’s culture department, specializing in contemporary art and politics.
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