They Need Us. But Hate Us.
As Political Hate Rises — Germany’s Future Depends on Inclusion
“Will this society ever truly see me as German?” I found myself wondering this on a chilly Berlin evening, scrolling through news about Alternative für Deutschland (AfD). As a dark-skinned German citizen — born and raised in East Germany by a Nigerian father supported by the GDR’s socialist student program and a white German mother — I’ve long hoped to belong in this country. While I spent part of my childhood in Nigeria, I’ve lived most of my life here. I cheer for the national basketball team, grill vegan Bratwurst in a Berlin Kleingarten, and belt out every word when Seeed’s “Dickes B” comes on at a party. I’ve participated as a researcher, an artist, a politically engaged citizen, and a neighbor. I’ve done my part — yet I’m still treated like an outsider. And lately, with the AfD surging to 26% in national polls — making them the most popular party in Germany — and being officially classified by the Verfassungsschutz as “proven right-wing extremist,” I’m left wondering if the country I’ve always called home is slipping away from me.
Vindication came with fear. Vindication, because the domestic intelligence service confirmed what many of us already knew: that the AfD’s vision is steeped in hate, exclusion, and xenophobia. Fear, because that same party is no longer fringe. It is vying to shape Germany’s future. And for people like me, that future feels increasingly uncertain.
From Fringe to Force: The AfD’s Rise
It wasn’t long ago that the AfD was dismissed as a noisy protest party. Today, they are mainstream in much of the country — even topping the polls in regions like Saxony and Thuringia. The Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution (BfV) has concluded that the AfD’s platform promotes a concept of the German people rooted in ethnicity and ancestry — a worldview incompatible with the democratic order. In clear terms: this party sees people like me, born and raised here, as not truly German. They target those with roots in Muslim-majority countries, Black Germans, and anyone who doesn’t fit their image of “normal.”
Their rhetoric defames entire populations and sows hostility. They speak of “remigration” — a euphemism for forced or encouraged expulsion of people with immigrant backgrounds — and peddle fears that our presence is an existential threat. For those of us with darker skin, wearing a headscarf, or bearing names deemed “foreign,” the result is chilling.
AfD leaders don’t hide their contempt. They champion policies to ban mosque construction, track “ethnic German” bloodlines, and gut programs that promote diversity. At their rallies, the chant “Germany for Germans” echoes — a slogan lifted straight from fascist ideology. They are no longer whispering. They are shouting. And too many are listening.
Yet, the more disturbing dynamic is how the AfD has learned to twist accountability into advantage. This formal classification as an extremist threat by the Verfassungsschutz? For some, it’s a wake-up call. But for the AfD, it’s political fuel. They claim persecution. They paint themselves as victims of a deep state trying to silence them. Their message becomes: “They fear us because we speak the truth.” In today’s fragmented media landscape, that narrative works. It rallies their base, wins sympathy from skeptics, and cements their outsider mystique. The very tools designed to protect democracy are now being flipped against it.
A Society Under Pressure
I live in Berlin, a multicultural city that should be a sanctuary for inclusion. But even here, I feel the air growing tense. At a U-Bahn station, a man once muttered that “people like me” should be grateful we’re allowed to stay. Online, I receive comments telling me to “go back where I came from” — though this is where I’m from.
In recent years, hate crimes have risen. Teachers report increased bullying of immigrant-background children. Veiled women avoid certain neighborhoods. The far right has infiltrated fire departments, police precincts, and the Bundeswehr, sometimes with tacit approval or insufficient accountability. What was once marginal is now normalized. The fringe has become the center.
And then came Lorenz.
The Death of Lorenz: A Horrible Beacon
On Easter Sunday 2025, in the city of Oldenburg, 21-year-old Lorenz — a young Black German man — was fatally shot by police. According to official reports, three bullets struck him from behind. One in the head. Initial police claims that he posed a threat were quickly dismantled: Lorenz was unarmed. The officer involved is under investigation for manslaughter, but the trauma inflicted is deeper than one case.
Lorenz’s death sparked protests across the country. More than 10,000 people took to the streets in Oldenburg alone, demanding justice and answers. Vigils in Berlin, Frankfurt, Hamburg, and Munich followed. Signs read: “Justice for Lorenz,” “Don’t Shoot Me — I’m German Too,” and “Stop Killing Us.”
The resonance was immediate and powerful. This was not just about one young man. It was about the pattern — the growing fear Black Germans live with every day. It was about the slow but constant erosion of trust in institutions meant to protect us.
A speaker at the demonstration, Suraj Mailitafi of the Initiative “Gerechtigkeit für Lorenz,” said it plainly: “Deadly violence against Black people is not an isolated incident. It is systemic.” Germany, in this regard, is becoming a horrible beacon — a mirror of problems we see in places like the United States, where racialized policing has claimed too many lives. That’s not the example we should follow. And yet, here we are.
Despite this, voices are rising. Activists like Tupoka Ogette, groups like Eltern gegen Rechts, Campact, and Correctiv, and artists like Daveman with his song “Blaue Wolken” or Adisa von Eisdorf with his poignant comics, are all sounding the alarm. They call out injustice, educate the public, and reach across generational lines. But the question remains: who listens?
Capacity Recession — and a Crisis of Vision
The demographic argument is clear: Germany is running out of workers. But what we’re facing is deeper — not just a labor shortage, but a capacity recession. Our industrial backbone — once the envy of the world — is aging, stagnant, and increasingly outcompeted. Other nations are overtaking us in core industries. We’re producing fewer startups worthy of international mention. The digital economy barely thrives. And the AI revolution? It’s passing us by.
Germany doesn’t just need hands. It needs ideas. It needs vision. It needs a new generation of thinkers, builders, dreamers. But how can we expect the people with those dreams — the children of immigrants, the international students, the multiracial creatives, the queer coders — to commit to this country if they don’t feel welcome?
We are not just the labor force. We are the future of German innovation. Push us out, and you dim the country’s potential.
What Kind of Nation Do We Want to Be?
At the end of the day, it comes down to a fundamental question for Germany: What kind of nation do we want to be? This isn’t a question I can answer on my own, nor is it up to the marginalized communities alone to resolve. It’s a question for the majority, for those who currently feel secure and “normal” in their German identity. Will they choose a Germany that lives up to the ideals of its Grundgesetz — human dignity, equality, and justice for all — or will they choose a path that narrows the definition of who gets to be German until people like me are pushed out entirely?
I know what I want Germany to be. But increasingly, the choice won’t be made by extremists shouting hate — or by people like me, pleading for a much needed inclusion. It will be made by the vast, quiet middle — deciding what it will tolerate.
Mein Deutschland, what will you choose?
The world — and your own children — are watching.
— — —
For more on why Germany’s economy urgently needs fresh ideas and new voices, see my related article: Old Tech, New Crisis — Why Germany’s Economy Needs a Platform Reboot.
— — —
© Dr. Davis Adedayo Eisape
If you enjoyed this piece, consider subscribing for more stories connecting platform thinking, politics, philosophy, technology, society, and human values.
Disclaimer: This story was written by myself, Dr. Davis Adedayọ Eisape. While AI tools assisted with preliminary research and drafting, all insights, analysis, and final content reflect solely my own experience, perspective, and expertise.
