Tim Kurockin, a 21-year-old Jewish student from Bavaria, says he moved to Berlin shortly before October 7, 2023 — the day of Hamas' terrorist attack on Israel. Since then, he tells DW, some of his Jewish friends have been "physically assaulted simply because it was clear they were Jewish."

As for his own habits, however, Kurockin, describes himself as "not visibly Jewish," since he wears neither a kippah, the traditional head covering for Jewish males, nor a star of David.

Kurockin studies at the Berlin School of Economics and Law. Beyond his academic work, he is active in several Jewish organizations, including the Hillel movement, which fosters connections among Jewish students worldwide, and the Jewish Student Union of Germany (JSUD).When in Berlin, he is "very cautious when out and about," Kurockin says, and avoids telling "many people" that he is Jewish. Still, he emphasizes, it is not as though he walks through the city "in constant fear." What he does avoid are certain demonstrations whose slogans he disagrees with. 

Increased police presence

Jewish institutions in Berlin have been under police protection for decades. Since the autumn of 2023, however, the atmosphere in the German capital has become markedly more tense. In December, for example, major security measures were implemented at the public candle-lighting ceremony for the Hanukkah holiday, held at Berlin's landmark Brandenburg Gate, while just a few years ago, passersby could watch the celebration up close. 

The heightened security is not limited to public celebrations. Another sign of the broader securitization measures can be seen in the heavy bollards now installed in front of Jewish cultural centers in various Berlin districts. 

That kind of police protection already existed in Berlin before the October 7 Hamas-led attacks in which more than 1,200 people were killed and around 250 hostages taken. But in the wake of the ensuing Gaza war — during which, according to the territory's Health Ministry, regarded as reliable by the United Nations and many human rights organizations, at least 70,000 Palestinians have been killed by the Israeli military — threats in Berlin grew, prompting authorities to further intensify security measures.

Some Jewish people, like Kurockin, speak openly about their lives in the city, while others remain silent. There are also some young Jews who say they have not personally encountered hatred and discrimination.

Kurockin regards January 27, the day of remembrance for the victims of Nazism, as a "day of genuine mourning." Yet he finds little meaning in some of the ways Holocaust commemoration is practiced in Germany. Too often, he says, it amounts to "the same social media post, where people either write 'Never again' or share a black and white photo of Auschwitz." 

For him, "that is not enough. Do something real against antisemitism! In parts of Germany, we now have a far-right party polling in second place, sometimes even first. We also see left-wing extremism growing; antisemitism linked to Israel increasing; and a constant rise in antisemitism overall. Political leaders are not doing enough."

He adds that from within "right conservative circles," the longtime "firewall" against political collaboration with right-wing extremists is "crumbling more and more." The rise of the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) deeply worries him.

It is hard to know exactly how many Jews live in Berlin. The city's official Jewish community counts around 10,000 members, but the real number is considerably higher — and has grown further with the arrival of Ukrainian Jews fleeing Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine and the ensuing war. Estimates suggest that between 15,000 and 30,000 Israelis alone also live in Berlin.

Avoiding social media

Lilach Sofer is 20 years old, studies in Potsdam, and lives in Berlin. Asked whether she has encountered hatred or threats personally, she explains that, on social media, she has for some time avoided posting political comments.

"The reactions very quickly turned offensive and lacked substance," she tells DW.

Sofer, whose mother is Israeli and father is German, stresses that life in Berlin can generally be lived "quite normally." She does not fear going to university: "That's still fine." She is cautious — for instance, she avoids speaking Hebrew loudly in public. She recalls how friends of hers were once threatened with a knife on the street for doing just that, though they managed to de-escalate the situation.

"In the past, I sometimes wore a Star of David necklace. At the moment, I don't," Sofer says. "Right now, anywhere in Berlin, you'd have to be crazy to wear one," in her view.

For David Gorelik, the risk of being targeted is something he "thinks about every day." His life, he says, has "changed very, very much" since October 7, 2023. "The security considerations we must take into account are much more rigorous than before," says the 21-year-old, who is active in "Meet a Jew" — a project that organizes personal encounters between Jewish and non-Jewish people, which is run by Germany's Central Council of Jews.

The Berlin native, a member of the Chabad Jewish community, is currently pursuing studies in social work. He is also completing part of his program in Erfurt, and another part at the university for Jewish studies in Heidelberg. "Perhaps I chose the university because there I am in a bubble, a protective sphere," he said, reflecting on his choice to attend programs in other areas of Germany, where he feels that wearing a kippah does not present a problem.

'We want to stand together'

After October 2023, some Jewish people began to wonder whether it still made sense to stay in Germany, Gorelik says. But he takes a different view: "It does make sense. You can drive out darkness with light. That is what we stand for. And we want to stand together."

He emphasizes that Jewish life in Germany has "grown enormously" over the past five years, now benefiting from "a really good infrastructure." Every state capital in Germany now has a synagogue; the German armed forces have established a Jewish military chaplaincy; and in Berlin, the Chabad community has launched a Jewish campus designed to be open and accessible to the wider society.

Although Gorelik acknowledges being more cautious in certain conversations about Israel or the Middle East, he provides a clear example of how he asserts his presence. In the aftermath of October 7, he chose to wear his tzitzit — the ritual fringes attached to the four corners of a garment worn by religious Jewish men — "openly, quite openly. Because the antisemites want to pressure us into hiding."

He also struggles with the official remembrance slogan "Never again," finding it to be insufficient and unhelpful for the present. What he wishes for is simply more dialogue, so that those who know nothing of Judaism can encounter Jews directly, their everyday realities and concerns, "against all prejudices."

The 21-year-old points to one factor that could compel him to leave Germany for Israel: "Not because of antisemitism, but for a political reason," he said. Namely, if the AfD were ever to take the office of chancellor.

This article was originally written in German.

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