Eighty-five years have passed since the Nazis launched their first comprehensive pogroms against Jewish life in Germany. This year, the Hamas massacre in Israel - and the lack of support many Jews across the country feel they have received - has revived old fears.
1. For Stefanie Szczupak, who is intent on rebuilding a synagogue in Hamburg, a world has collapsed
Archeologists are currently in the process of excavating the site of the old Bornplatz Synagogue, where they are finding evidence of past horrors. They have discovered ornaments, broken windowpanes and, on some objects, traces of the fire from the 1938 attack. The work is overseen by armed security guards, and the school next door is under protection as well. "Unfortunately, there is no other way," says Szczupak.
She is a member of the board of trustees for the Bornplatz Synagogue and also ran the Jewish school for many years. She is vocal about her view that the reconstruction of the synagogue is a "statement against anti-Semitism," adding that "we want Jewish life to return to this place." It is a project that appears to have become more urgent in recent weeks.
The 56-year-old says that since October 7, several worlds have collapsed for her. First is the Jewish world, the idea of Israel as a safe haven and possible refuge. She says she has never really considered moving to Israel, but its existence as a potential sanctuary has always been important to her, particularly as a mother. "If worse comes to worst, there is a country where there are a lot of other Jews and where my family and I can live in safety," she says, describing her former approach to Israel. But that feeling is now gone for her.
Her faith in the solidarity of society around her has also crumbled. In Germany, she says, the idea of "Never Again" is frequently cultivated, particularly in the days surrounding the November 9 anniversary of the 1938 pogrom. "Now, though, instead of 'Never Again,' voices are saying 'Yes, But.'" Or nothing at all. Szczupak was shocked by the deafening silence of the masses following October 7.
Since then, she has also come to think of her involvement in recent years as "useless." "I always thought: We'll start a dialogue, and then the others will understand that we are people too." But what, she now wonders, did all of those projects actually achieve. She is baffled by the public displays of delight at the killing of Jews and by the apparent understanding for the actions of Hamas.
Szczupak grew up as the daughter of a Shoa survivor and is steeped in stories from concentration camps and of the mass slaughter of the Jews. Her father managed to survive both the Warsaw Ghetto and the Auschwitz death camp. She still has the pants of her father's concentration camp uniform - the ones he was wearing when he managed to escape from a death march. She remembers sitting under the dining room table and listening to the stories told by her parents' guests, some of whom were also Holocaust survivors.
They were stories from a world that she was ultimately unable to understand. Only now, after seeing videos of the horrific atrocities committed by the Hamas terrorists on October 7, does she think she has a better comprehension of what happened back then. "You don't just see the deeds themselves, but also those who celebrate or justify them." She can guess just how helpless her father must have felt back then. The feeling of being alone with all the injustice as murderers are being applauded in the streets. It is a feeling that is now part of Stefanie Szczupak's present.