The story of a Jewish immigrant under AustroFascism

By Jasmine Sakpoba

Following the collapse of the Habsburg empire in 1918 and the end of the First World War, the Republic of Austria was established. The new state was shaped by political and economic unrest, as well as the effects of the Treaty of St Germain in a world ravaged by war. At the same time, the Bolshevist Revolution from 1917 to 1923 had left thousands displaced and fleeing the Russian Empire, forced to become refugees.

During this period, the province of Vienna was dominated by the Sozialdemokratische Arbeiterpartei (Austria’s Social Democratic party) and had only just emerged from the economic turmoil of the 1921 hyperinflation crisis. Despite international loans of 650 million gold crowns through the Geneva Protocols of 1922 and the Treaty of Lana in 1921, the Austrian Republic was in a state of total disrepute, subject to high unemployment, stringent budget cuts and unstable government. Vienna, known colloquially as ‘Red Vienna’, was dominated by the anti-clerical Social Democrats seeking to create a new, socialist alternative form of society. Tensions naturally arose with the conservative political right, the Christlichsoziale Partei (the Christian Social Party), which sought a return to a Catholic and conservative Austria, and with the political right in wider Europe, consisting of figures such as Benito Mussolini in Italy, Miklos Horthy in Hungary and Adolf Hitler in Germany.

Amongst the many political refugees fleeing to Austria was Jura Soyfer. Born on 8th December 1912, he and his family were forced to flee their home in Kharkiv in Ukraine to Baden in Germany, eventually settling in Vienna in 1923.

Son to Lyubov Soyfer and the Jewish industrialist Vladimir Soyfer, Soyfer grew up immersed in the political turbulence of Austria in the 1920s and 30s, becoming one of the most consistently political Austrian writers of his day.

In 1927 and against the backdrop of political civil war in Vienna, Soyfer, aged 15, discovered socialist literature through his friend Mitja Rapoport. Fascinated and inspired by socialist ideas of ambitious plans for infrastructure and diplomacy, he soon became politically active. Soyfer joined the Verband Sozialistischer Mittelschüler (the socialist youth organisation of the Social Democrats), through which he could further explore social democracy in Austria and begin writing deeply political poems and critical texts. Socialism essentially became the catalyst for Soyfer’s introduction and integration into Viennese society With the disadvantage of being a Ukrainian-Jewish immigrant moving in almost exclusively Jewish circles, political activism and socialist interests prevented him from developing narrowly Jewish concerns in political, cultural or literary matters at the time.

The civil war of 1927 left 89 demonstrators and 5 police officers dead, an ultimate defeat for the Social Democrats, who became characterised as a ‘red menace’ within the political sphere. Throughout this period, Soyfer focused on his poems and writing. In 1929, he began his work for the Politisches Kabarett der Sozialistischen Veranstaltungsgruppe, aged 17. The Wall Street Crash, instigating yet more political chaos and throwing Austria into a new state of economic crisis, fuelled Soyfer’s inspiration for his political publications.

his crisis, however, also highlighted the failure of the ChristianSocials to revive Austria’s economy and increased demand for a more ---radical socialist government. From 1930, Soyfer began regularly publishing poems and articles in the Arbeiter-Zeitung The publication was the central organ of the Austrian Social Democrats, criticising the failures of the Christian Socials and highlighting the necessity for a shift towards the political left. At the time, Soyfer’s poems and commentaries on daily and weekly political events were being read by 85,000 people every week.

With the turn of the decade came a steady rise in support for fascism in Austria, spurred on by questions surrounding the annexation of Austria by Germany, economic failure under the republic, and the rise of fascist chancellor, Engelbert Dollfuss, in government. Austria’s ability to sustain itself as an independent economic unit was called into question and many Austrians turned to more radical politics, having lost faith in their own. This provided Soyfer with the opportunity to promote his own growing belief in socialism by ridiculing the gradual collapse of capitalism. Drawing “revolutionary conclusions from his satiric exposure of the enemy, [he] incited his readers to fight fascism in Austria, and he clearly foresaw that Hitler’s politics, if not stopped, would inevitably lead to war” (Jarka, 1987).

However, the rise of fascism in Austria and the growing popularity of the NSDAP in Germany under Adolf Hitler led to an increase in anti-Semitism. The growing class-specific anti-Semitism of the Social Democratic party went hand in hand with the image of the ‘rich Jew’ as the class enemy, primarily associated with Fascism in the 1930s. This image rejected people like Soyfer and decisively influenced the reception of his work.

Parallel to political dynamics, Soyfer’s works turned aggressively activist, contributing more to the verbal revolutionism of Austro-Marxism than that of social democracy and leading him to join the Communist Party after the February Uprising in Austria in 1934. This four-day conflict between the Austrian government and socialist forces increased the population’s drive towards radical politics and split political dynamics ever further.

Working as an active Communist in the underground scene and heavily monitored by Austrian police, Soyfer began one of his most famous works, his novel ‘So starb eine Partei’ (It’s Up To Us!). It is now regarded as one of the most perceptive political novels of all time, despite never having been completed. Soyfer tried with great effort to capture the political events of the period in this novel. He analysed problems such as bureaucratisation in Austria, the government’s incapability to reconcile the younger and older generations in a new post-war republic, and the loss of the vision that the Social Democrats, and Soyfer himself, once held. Moreover, he analyses the fatal dilemma of Austro-Marxism within Austria, condemning the Social Democrats for not being radical enough in the face of the catastrophe brought on by fascism. Up until 1937, Soyfer was supported by the left whilst writing works as a Jew under fascist threat. However, the more he sought to ask ‘the Jewish Question’ in his poems, plays and writing, the more he also found it invariably led to an anti-Semitic answer.

M------------------istaken for Franz Marek, the Austrian ------------------communist politician and editor of -------------------the-party journal Weg und Ziel, -----------------------Soyfer-was arrested by Austrian police and found guilty of writing incriminatory pieces for the communist party in 1937. After 26 days of freedom following 3-months of imprisonment for his-crimes, Soyfer was arrested again in an attempt to cross the border into Switzerland in 1938 and was transported to Dachau concentration camp It was here that Soyfer met Herbert Zipper, an internationally renowned composer. Together they wrote and composed the famous Dachaulied, a song acting as a cynical and ironic response to the Nazi phrase Arbeit macht frei (work will set you free). The song could neither be written down nor recorded, so was passed on by word of mouth to other prisoners, as well as by Zipper upon his release from the camp in 1939. In the autumn of the same year, Soyfer was transported to Buchenwald concentration camp, where he died of typhoid fever on 16th February 1939. He was 26 years old.

Throughout his life, Jura Soyfer’s vision was not to present solutions or conclusions to his readers, but rather to rally a desire for protest in real life. The plays he wrote for small theatres in later life break down political illusions and call upon society to create change in its present form, not just theoretically or hypothetically. His works were a form of propaganda, directly connected to the time he lived in and to ideas of what it meant to be a Jewish writer under Austro-Fascism in the republic. To this day, he calls on us through his published works to be critical of the world around us and to always question our present society.

At the time of writing, I have spent the past two months working at the DDR Museum in Berlin. Throughout Germany, but especially in a city like Berlin, it is nearly impossible to escape the pervasive presence of the country’s past, out of which has grown its so-called Erinnerungskultur or culture of remembrance. Every day at the museum is defined by curiosity – new facts to be learned, new objects to be discovered and new discussions to be had. Arguably, the most fascinating of these discussions is the one I have been having in my head ever since I arrived here: how exactly should we remember the GDR?

In the first two weeks of my internship, I spent some time working in the DDR Museum’s gift shop. My days consisted of restocking fridge magnets, dusting the Trabant toy cars on display, and selling pieces of the Wall to both German and international tourists in little paper bags. As I completed my hourly checks around the shop, I noticed T-shirts with the words Held der Arbeit (Hero of Labour) printed on the front, pink miniature rubbers of Karl Marx’s ‘Capital: Critique of Political Economy’, and infinite rows of the famous GDR egg cup, fittingly designed in the shape of a chicken and available in a variety of colours. Nevertheless, there is another side to the gift shop that aims to establish greater historical depth and understanding for the museum’s visitors. For example, we sell comprehensive information guides in six different languages, as well as a selection of historical books, accounts and biographies written by academics on the subject – directly underneath the egg cups, to be precise.

During the first four weeks of my internship, I helped out at one of the museum’s regularly held Veranstaltungen.

By Katie McCarthy

My job for the evening was to welcome and sell drinks to the attendees, some of whom lived in the GDR and utilise these events as a form of reminiscence – depending on the subject matter, of course. The Germans have a perfect word for this: Ostalgie The term is a rather catchy combination of the words Ost (East) and Nostalgie (nostalgia). These attendees will gladly talk to me for hours about their experiences growing up in the East. However, they also acknowledge the aspects of their childhood that are perhaps best kept in the past. I am standing on the other side of the table, Sprudelwasser in hand, listening intently and trying to decipher their thick East German accents.

In the sixth week of my internship, I began writing posts for the museum’s Facebook page. Every month, we collate articles that are related to the GDR and share them with our followers. They can find out which galleries are housing the paintings of East German artists, what the best walking routes are for tracing the remnants of the Berlin Wall, or even how a new Berlin start-up is modernising old GDR mopeds and making them more environmentally friendly. All you have to do is click on one of these posts and scroll down to the comments to see that the GDR remains both a divisive and controversial topic.

ne person reminisces about their yearly holidays to the Baltic coast with their parents, whilst another writes that “WE NEED TO STOP LIVING IN THE PAST AND UNITE AS ONE GERMANY!!!!!” (exclamation marks and all). Interestingly, one follower even complains that the museum is ruining its reputation by gendering, whereas another follower supports it.

The eighth week of my internship saw me write a blog post about the Green Party in the GDR – a topic that, despite fascinating me deeply, I knew nearly nothing about prior to writing. Even though the German Green Party today is called Bündnis 90/Die Grünen (a combination of both its Eastern and Western progenitor), focus mainly seems to be placed on the founding history of the latter. The story of the East German Green Party is one of perseverance, risk, failure and, ultimately, triumph. The party emerged from a large network of oppositional environmental groups and sought to uncover the GDR’s dangerous reliance on brown coal and its motives behind keeping environmental data private. Writing the blog post left me wondering: why has the eastern side of this story been brushed under the carpet and the western part pushed to the foreground?

The easiest place to identify the difficulties involved in remembering the GDR is on the internet, where visitors from across the world leave their reviews of the museum. Some describe the museum as educational and informative, praising its interactive elements and broad coverage of themes such as free time, politics, fashion and daily life. The recreation of a typical Plattenbau flat is always a favourite among tourists, as well as the blue Trabant car that stands proudly in the museum’s display window. Others would say that the museum’s approach is offensive and mocks the very real struggles that defined this period. These visitors argue that, instead of selling ice cream and fridge magnets, the museum should be focusing on the content and quality of its exhibition.

My time in Berlin so far has allowed me to consider how the GDR can and should fit into German society, politics and culture today. The bygone state I have been studying at university for the past two years has now taken on a new form in my head, as I observe how the DDR Museum attempts to find its place and purpose in a country that is still very much shaped by its socialist past.

The question I posed at the beginning of this article is one that I still do not have an answer to and perhaps never will. However, if I have learned anything during my time at the museum so far, it is that the way the GDR is remembered inevitably varies from person to person. The older East Germans I speak to at the museum’s events bring a very different perspective to the school pupils who run around the gift shop with their friends, as well as to the British intern who is writing this article right now.

The reviews I discussed above make clear that, whilst the museum is doing many things right for its visitors, it also seems to be doing many things wrong. This will always be the case when recounting a part of history that continues to have a considerable impact on the present. Regardless of its successes and failures, the most important thing is that the museum exists at all. With its neon blue sign lighting up the Spree river and beckoning Berlin’s tourists to its entrance, the DDR Museum acts as a constant reminder of the defunct state that shaped – and continues to shape – multiple generations. It is an ideal starting point for those who know nothing about the GDR and a suitable form of remembrance for those who perhaps know it too well.

Regardless of their approach and reception, institutions like the DDR Museum play an integral role in carrying the historical legacy of the GDR – even if it does come in the form of a chicken-shaped egg cup.

By Naomi Hattam

Despite Germany’s linguistic pragmatism, Germans seem to have a knack for inventing words that we wish we had made up first in English: Sehnsucht, Schadenfreude and Schnapsidee are a few personal favourites. But a more politically charged and, arguably, more ‘German’ example is Vergangenheitsbewältigung – the process of coming to terms with the past. What this looks like in practice varies, but it generally involves the acknowledgement of and atonement for culpable national history.

It is perhaps unsurprising that the Germans coined a word for a process that has dominated public life since reunification. With twelve years of National Socialism to look back on, no other country has confronted its past like Germany. In September 2022, Chancellor Olaf Scholz pledged 1.2 billion euros for the care of elderly Holocaust survivors and further Holocaust education. At a time when purse strings are tightening, this promise demonstrates the government’s ongoing commitment to Vergangenheitsbewältigung ood relations with Britain and France are influential and some German ---------------officials fear the frosty reception of raising colonial culpability. More so, however, politicians and scholars are concerned that they would be treading dangerous territory by discussing ‘another genocide’ that could be perceived as comparative to, even reductive of, the Holocaust. The subject no doubt requires sensitivity and their trepidation is understandable. But this argument assumes that Vergangenheitsbewältigung is a zero-sum game, that acknowledging one atrocity will come at the cost of the other. Investing in Holocaust Vergangenheitsbewältigung is important and should continue. But it also feels wrong to neglect aspects of history which have devastated and traumatised other populations, based on the perception that it could devalue another barbarity. Should memory be so insecure? It doesn’t need to be. Atonement for both doesn’t equate to their comparison or equalisation. Far from a zero-sum game, processing the past appeals to all of history’s lessons.

Germany leads by example in its atonement for the Holocaust, which in its depravity led to the coining of the word genocide – the crime of crimes. But it seems that German Vergangenheitsbewältigung begins and ends with Nazi atrocities, even though the Holocaust was not the first genocide to be committed by the Germans in the twentieth century.

Comparatively short-lived to those of France and Great Britain, the German Empire (18711918) was nevertheless brutal in its oppression of native populations.

Their violent suppression of the Ovaherero and Nama uprisings in German Southwest Africa (1904-1908) escalated into the first genocide of the 1900s, with the death of around eighty percent of the total Ovaherero population and significant losses to the Nama. Likewise, the use of famine as a weapon in German East Africa killed hundreds of thousands of natives during the Maji Maji Uprising (1905-1907).

Though debate continues, many scholars agree on a connection between these colonial tactics of subjugation and annihilation and the Nazis’ methods to exclude and eliminate groups on racial grounds. In 1985, the UN classified the Herero massacre as a genocide, but it was not until 2015 that the Bundesregierung informally acknowledged it. This fostered some reconciliation between Germany and the Herero population, but, frankly, the first genocide of the twentieth century still receives little attention outside of Namibia.

The explanation for this is complex but two overarching factors have influenced successive governments. Firstly, there is the significance of the Holocaust. The sheer horror of the Nazis’ systemic murder on racist and eugenicist grounds created a new barometer for human evil and caused seismic changes around the world. It is, therefore, neither wrong nor unexpected that it carries such weight in public memory discourse. Rather, it raises the question of why Vergangenheitsbewältigung, for all the good it has done, is absent in other cases of state-inflicted barbarity.

Practicality is the Bundesregierung’s second and more predictable prerequisite for colonial Vergangenheitsbewältigung. Specifically: money. Legal advisors to the government have admitted that German-Namibian settlements regarding the Herero genocide have intentionally avoided the word ‘reparations’, preferring ‘investment’ instead. This is because the legal and financial onus on reparations is greater, and the Bundesregierung fears that conceding to Namibia would embolden others to make claims against Germany, as Greece and Italy have already attempted. The reparative payments towards Holocaust survivors are admirable in their enormity and instrumental in the education of millions worldwide. But because of its magnitude, conservative politicians, especially those in the far-right Alternative für Deutschland party, worry this would have to be replicated, which they argue is financially unviable.

For all the politics, it must be acknowledged that Germany is still streets ahead of its allies by even pursuing Vergangenheitsbewältigung. Like in Great Britain and France, the past decade has witnessed increased public and scholarly engagement in postcolonial debates, particularly over the restitution of stolen artefacts. The controversy of Berlin’s Humboldt Forum, which celebrates the Prussian Empire by displaying looted art and objects, perfectly exhibits growing tensions in postcolonial Germany through its opening in 2021 and the disapproval that followed.

In 2021, the Bundesregierung formally recognised the genocide as part of an agreement with Namibia, which committed Germany to annual funds over a period of thirty years for construction and development within former Herero territory. This was contentious amongst Namibians, but it was nonetheless unprecedented for a former imperial power. In many ways, however, this highlights the absence of colonial crimes on the European agenda, indicating that racism continues to rear its ugly head.

There is still a long way to go for imperial Vergangenheitsbewältigung to be both accepted and fully implemented in Germany. In part, the Bundesregierung’s caution is understandable and its sensitivity to the Holocaust is not misplaced. At the same time, Germany exemplifies the advantages of Vergangenheitsbewältigung and the potential that championing justice can have in healing relations and rebuilding for the better. Humility in governance is power: Germany is widely considered to be a trusting pair of hands internationally, seen as the de facto leader of Europe and even of the “Free World”, according to the New York Times (2015).

It is debated whether this is because of Vergangenheitsbewältigung, but Germany’s position as Europe’s “moral compass” during the so-called refugee crisis in 2015 and Merkel’s use of the past to justify her generous asylum policy allude to its significance.

By beginning to process its imperial history, Germany has already achieved levels of progress in former colonial relations that are unseen elsewhere. Taking up the mantel of moral authority, the Bundesregierung should not shy away from further colonial Vergangenheitsbewältigung, but should rather press others to follow the precedent it has established.

Despite committing one of the worst evils in history, coming to terms with its Nazi past has strengthened Germany, painful and slow though it has been. When will governments understand that it is not weak to confront their own injustice? Maybe money makes the world go round, but the pursuit of justice and integrity pays off eventually. There’s only so long that former colonial powers can ignore the colossal elephant in the room.

By Otti Michelson

The Ampel-Koalition, formed following Germany’s 2021 federal election, has set out to legalise the recreational consumption of cannabis or Freizeitskonsum. Whilst currently not top of the agenda, with events in Eastern Europe and the possibility of a global economic recession requiring a little more urgency, it nevertheless appears that the Ampel-Koalition is keen to deliver on their Koalitionsvertrag (coalition agreement). It would make Germany the second EU country after Malta to legalise the recreational use of cannabis.

“Only second?!”, or perhaps “Malta?!”, you may say to yourself, thoughts leaping to the coffee shops of Amsterdam which draw in thousands of tourists each year. Many European nations, the Netherlands being the foremost example, have decriminalised or shown a certain level of tolerance to possession of the drug. Nevertheless, they are yet to legalise cannabis.

Germany has relaxed its attitude towards personal cannabis consumption in recent decades; a 1992 reform means that those possessing a ‘small amount’ are not prosecuted. Each of the 16 Bundersländer exercises its own judgement on what is considered a ‘small amount’, with most permitting possession of up to six grams. Berlin, perhaps unsurprisingly, stands out. The city-state, often viewed by young people as a bastion of European party culture and social liberalism, does not prosecute those possessing up to 15 grams of the drug.

Given such a liberal attitude towards personal use, the need for complete legalisation may seem unclear. However, the decriminalisation model, which an increasing number of European states have implemented (Switzerland in 2013 and Austria in 2016, for example), has serious flaws. Decriminalising only the end stage of the cannabis supply chain does little to protect consumers and nothing to regulate quality or strength. This has the potential to fuel the black market, strengthening organised crime gangs that bring the drug into the country.

In 2018, the Greens and FDP, belonging to the government’s three-way coalition, announced their plan to legalise Freizeitskonsum if elected. Their reasoning appeared to lie primarily in the weaknesses of the decriminalisation model; a bill drafted by the Greens in 2018 proposed regulation of the entire supply chain from the plant’s cultivation to the consumer. It is a move which would safeguard the growing number of young users whose brains are particularly vulnerable to the adverse neurological effects of the strongest strains of cannabis. Tax revenue also plays a role. The University of Düsseldorf estimates that the economic benefits of legalisation equate to up to 4.71 billion euros, calculated using the saved costs in policing and healthcare combined with expected tax revenue.

Despite the logical reasoning and public support behind the plans, legal obstacles threaten to stall the AmpelKoalition’s progress on the issue.

oncerns are focused on the cccccccccccccompatibility of Germany’s lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllproposed legalisation and lllllllllllllllllllll regulation of the market with EU law and UN drug control conventions. As a member of the Schengen Area, it remains Germany’s responsibility, according to an agreement signed in 1985, “to prevent and punish by administrative and penal measures the illegal export of narcotic drugs and psychotropic substances, including cannabis.” Although Malta, also an EU member and signatory of the Schengen Agreement, successfully legalised the personal use of up to seven grams of cannabis and cultivation of up to four plants in 2021, it faced fewer barriers as it did not legalise the entire distribution network as Germany is attempting to.

Last month, the German government published an Eckpunktepapier (key issues paper), in which it outlined its plans to legalise and regulate the recreational cannabis market. The German government has established that the most straightforward way to ensure that German legalisation complies with EU law is through what it calls an Interpretationslösung (interpretative solution), a declaration that the government’s plans fulfil Germany’s international legal obligations. Such interpretive solutions have previously only been used to justify tolerance and decriminalisation rather than the legalisation proposed, making this a bold and unprecedented move. If the Interpretationslösung is rejected by the European Commission, the Eckpunktepapier acknowledges that amendments to EU and international law would be necessary for the government’s plans to be realised. This further hurdle would push back any potential legalisation far beyond the government’s current 2024 target and likely beyond their term of office entirely.

Though evidently not the most pressing concern the German government currently faces, success in overcoming the hurdles of cannabis legalisation would have significant domestic and international impact. Domestically, it is believed that the nation would become the world’s largest legal cannabis market, stimulating economic growth and job creation. If taxed appropriately, the black market could be quashed and the 4 million Germans who regularly use cannabis assured of the quality and safety of their chosen products. Internationally, Germany would set a precedent for other governments within and beyond the EU, likely finding themselves under increasing public pressure to follow suit.

The 26th September 2021 marked the end of an era in Germany. For the first time since 2005, Angela Merkel did not lead the Conservatives into a federal election. For the first time since the establishment of the Federal Republic in 1949, no incumbent Chancellor was running in an election – excluding the first election, of course. And for the first time since 2002, the Social Democrats were the strongest party in a federal election, which had seemed impossible only three months before. The election brought about a type of change that can barely be considered disruptive. Germans love continuity, and it seemed very ‘continuous’ when Merkel’s deputy Olaf Scholz became Federal Chancellor in December. Since then, however, Germany has changed considerably since September 2021. What exactly happened during this period?

When Scholz’s government – the first coalition consisting of Social Democrats, Greens and Liberals – began its work, it aimed to pass some reforms which had previously been blocked by the Conservatives: a higher minimum wage, a lower minimum age for suffrage, fewer restrictions on abortion, and more publicly financed flats. The first challenge began when tension in Eastern Ukraine began rising and German politicians debated about whether to deliver weapons or not. Putin’s attack on Ukraine on 24th February showed that the Schonfrist (grace period) for the new coalition was suddenly over and that the government had to start making difficult decisions independent of ideological premises. The Greens, formerly aligned with radical pacifism, had to agree to military support for Ukraine, and some of them have even become the loudest advocates for weapons.

By Robin Fugmann

The cleavage between the parties in the political centre and those on its peripheries today is striking. Whilst the SPD, CDU/CSU, Greens and FDP mostly agree on military support for Ukraine and imposing sanctions on Russia, the nationalist Alternative for Germany (AfD) and the Left Party refuse to support these policies.

And what about the moderate opposition party? The CDU – led by Merkel’s former rival Friedrich Merz – has found its role in harshly criticising the government. Perhaps it was Merz’s fate to be an opposition leader, having gained experience in this role as chairman of the party’s parliamentary group between 2000 and 2002.

And now, as the Western World tries to do as much as possible to isolate Putin’s regime, it is obvious that Germany’s dependence on Russia is the result of cardinal errors made in the last 20 years. Putin does not even need to explicitly blackmail Germany when it comes to gas –we know that ourselves. This is why Germany’s foreign policy towards Russia often appears discouraged. Heating bills are currently the number one issue among the population, and the more Russian gas you use, the more you help Putin finance his horrific war. Many people are now promising to use their heaters less, even calling it Frieren für den Frieden (freezing for peace).

ealistically speaking, I predict many ----------- people will give up on this attitude in -the coldest weeks of winter. The elderly especially are less willing to abstain from heating, but nobody can predict what would happen if imports of Russian gas stopped immediately. This scenario is far from straightforward and its outcome would depend solely on the population’s behaviour. I have strong concerns that a significant and emotional cleavage between supporters and opponents of the government’s policies may once again arise. In a broader context, it seems to be that a new political milieu has emerged during the last few years: apolitical, dissatisfied people who always complain about the government no matter what course of action it takes. It will be the task of the moderate, democratic parties to integrate these voices into the policy-making process. Otherwise, the share of protest parties in German parliaments will rise.

The public’s focus is obviously on these crises, but what about other political events? In February, Frank-Walter Steinmeier was reelected as Federal President with a large majority. In April, Anne Spiegel became the first minister from the new federal government to resign because of mistakes she had previously made as a minister in Rhineland-Palatinate. One of the most undignified processes in German politics I have ever seen also happened in April when the Bundestag voted on whether to make Covid vaccinations compulsory for all citizens. It was not clear how a majority of members of the Bundestag (MdBs) would be organised for this, so the result was very chaotic. Whilst a vast majority of MdBs from the SPD and the Greens voted in favour of compulsory vaccination, the majority within the other parliamentary groups did not. Health Minister Karl Lauterbach knew that nearly everyone from the FDP was strictly against it, but he hoped that the Conservatives – generally in favour of compulsory vaccination – would support him.

Instead, the Conservatives made the Bundestag decide on their own bill that would introduce a vaccination register first and make compulsory vaccination possible later. The order in which the Bundestag decided over the bill was relevant to the parties’ tactics of blaming one another for not consenting to a productive proposal. No matter what you think about compulsory vaccination, the whole process was the result of parties trying to trick each other instead of cooperating and finding a solution.

Additionally, a ticket which can be used for local public transport all over Germany was temporarily introduced between June and August due to rising inflation. Costing only 9 euros per month, the ticket was very popular and, thus, led to crowded trains This case shows how much more is possible once you invest in infrastructure. At the moment, the government is working on the introduction of a similar ticket for the future. This could be a starting point for a new era in Germany where public transportation is finally recognised as an essential part of an environmentally friendly lifestyle.

I conclude that uncertainty and worries about Germany’s political future are on the rise. The government is facing complicated tasks and often lacks a clear position due to the parties’ varying ideologies. What we call the ‘collective action problem’ in political science – the difficulty to make the population cooperate for a general aim like saving gas – becomes apparent. Nevertheless, I assume that most people will recognise the impact of their individual behaviour and respect that it is indeed harder to govern in times of crisis than in ‘normal times’. The current situation is worse than it was one year ago but it will surely improve after the winter. Deutschland, keep calm, save gas and carry on!

Angela Merkel, the ‘Crisis Chancellor’ and ‘Mutti’ of Germany, has left behind a legacy which has been both praised and criticised across the globe. There were numerous successes during her chancellorship, demonstrating her unwavering morals and ability to handle tense situations with vigilance and practicality. Examples include her response to the so-called refugee crisis in 2015 and her political strategies during the 2008 financial crisis. Her legacy in the area of foreign policy, however, may be questioned in light of recent political events. Following the end of her chancellorship in 2021 and the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February of 2022, some may wish to analyse Merkel's legacy on a closer level.

It is first important to acknowledge the positive aspects of Merkel’s leadership, particularly her controversial yet largely successful handling of the 2015 refugee crisis, which saw more than one million refugees flee to Germany. Although a controversial act at the time, Merkel stood by her steadfast morals and defended the right of refugees to enter Germany through its borders, welcoming those who desperately sought safety and shelter. One of Merkel’s priorities was to look beyond the mere arrival of the refugee population, also ensuring their integration into and understanding of German culture and society. Her promotion of work programmes and language and cultural integration courses is an important example, as it highlighted her understanding that the crisis was far from being a short-term political issue.

Merkel's integration initiative and her insistence on keeping borders open were somewhat successful, with many refugees now having attained an impressive level of German language proficiency and having successfully integrated themselves into society through work and education.

By Sophie Watkins-Tidley

Despite opposition from the far-right party Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) and some members of her own party, such as the CDU's Wolfgang Bosbach who blamed Merkel for the increase in AfD popularity, Merkel insisted on helping others whilst risking her own reputation. That is not to say, however, that she simply dismissed the opinions of others in her party; in one of her final interviews as Chancellor, she acknowledged and accepted that not all politicians agreed with her agenda and course of action. Nonetheless, Merkel remained steadfast in her humanitarian convictions.

Thus, one of Merkel’s greatest markers of success was her embrace of controversial politics in the face of these political events, understanding that great actions inevitably come with criticism. This can also be seen through her leadership during the 2008 financial crisis. Although Merkel was criticised by foreign leaders for her harsh economic policies on European nations such as Greece, she continued to act with patience and the intent of finding a sustainable solution to the recession. It was her independence and ability to remain calm under international criticism which adds to the validity of her legacy.